After Days (The After Days Trilogy) Read Online Free PDF Page B

the infection, whether that was because of a genetic defect or because he had been exposed to a similar enough pathogen when he was younger, who can say? He kept on reporting to the last, alone in an empty studio, talking to the one camera that was focused on him. I was watching him at the end, as he spoke stoically over loud banging and the sound of breaking glass. It was distant but getting closer every second.
    “…and so America…children of America, time is running out for me but know this. America is still the home of the brave and it can again be the land of the free. Where you can, band together, find places to hide from the invaders. Live to fight another day. Avenge your parents any way that you can…look out for each other.”
    Th ere was an even louder crash and Dallard flinched, somehow looking noble and brave even with the uncharacteristic three day growth and rumpled, unwashed clothes he wore.
    “This is Tom Dallard signi…”
    I sat there with my heart beating hard in my chest as two Chinese soldiers tackled Dallard from his chair before he could finish his sign off. One hit him viciously over the head with his rifle butt and then they bent over and dragged his unconscious figure out of view. For the second time in a few days I heard a loud gunshot, this one seeming to signify the end of the America I had known. I sat staring at the screen for a long time, a sick feeling in my gut. It was January third. Tom Dallard, in my mind, was the last great American hero, and he deserves to be remembered with the rest of them.
     
    January third was also the day I realized that I was going to have to fight to survive, and to perhaps do things that no fifteen year old kid… no kid at all… should have to do. It was the day the first looters came to the neighborhood. It had been at least two days since I had seen anybody else in our street. This had not really surprised me because most of the people around the Fosters were older couples, their children already grown and gone.
    I was flicking through the channels on the television trying to find anything at all when I heard the rumble of a car engine. I ran to the window and peered through a crack in the blinds. I saw a red Toyota pickup truck cruisi ng slowly down the street. For a moment I thought about running out and waving them down, but something stopped me.I watched it through the blind s instead.
    They went around the block twice before stopping in front of Judge Petersen’s house; it was across the street and two houses down. The doors opened and three people got out, two looked to be adults. One was obviously sick, stopping just after getting out of the driver’s side to lean across the hood coughing. The third figure was a boy, my age or maybe a year or two younger. I was shocked to see that all three had long guns clutched in their hands. I didn’t know that much about guns then, everything I knew about them came from television and movies, so I couldn’t tell if the guns they held were rifles or shotguns.
    From where I crouched behind the blinds, I saw the sick man waving toward the Petersen house, prompting the other man and boy to walk up to the door. The boy tried the handle and when he found it locked, he stepped aside for the man who kicked it open with on e strong kick. They went inside. Maybe ten minutes later they came back out each carrying a large black garbage bag, filled with whatever they had looted from the Petersen’s. They trotted back to the pickup and dropped the bags in the bed. The sick man pointed at the house next door to the Petersen residence and the other two went off again. They were getting closer.
    A feeling of fear shot through me, what if they came to my house…? I didn’t know what they were looking for, money, jewelry, or just food and supplies, but given the fact that they were armed, I was worried about what they might do if they found me here. Just as worrying was the idea that if I somehow hid and they didn’t