Hidden (Final Dawn) Read Online Free PDF

what he could. Seven two liter bottles of soda. Frozen, but drinkable once thawed. And more importantly, the bottles would come in handy for storing sterilized water.
         He left the canned goods behind. They were frozen and swollen now. Once thawed, the food inside would be tainted. He gathered up several boxes of Hamburger Helper, some macaroni and cheese, and dry stock:  rice and beans. And a full case of Ramen Noodles. A relative gold mine.
         Eva saw him trudging up the walk, dragging the trash cans behind him. She knew. She opened the door for him and saw the look of misery on his face.
         “They’re in a better place now, Frank. Stay strong. I need you to stay strong.”
         Frank said, “I’ll take the first watch. You get some sleep. Come and relieve me after you’ve rested.”
         She kissed him and shuffled off to bed. Frank went upstairs and turned off all the lights, then opened the blinds in the front bedroom. Then he did the same for the rear bedroom.
         For the rest of the night, he’d wear a path in the upstairs carpet, checking the street in front of the house for people who weren’t supposed to be there. Then he’d move to the back bedroom and check the back yard, and the empty field behind his house. Then back to the front again.
         Over his shoulder, locked and loaded, was his AR-15 assault rifle. He planned to give no warning shots. Ammunition was too valuable. Once he was out, there was no way to get more. No, the plywood sign they’d leaned up against the barricade of cars was all the warning anyone would get.
         Anyone climbing over the cars would be shot. And Frank was an excellent shot. One bullet to the torso was all it would take. If the intruder didn’t die instantly, he’d soon succumb to the bitter cold.
         And he’d leave the body there, for others to see. He wanted word to get around the neighborhood that the residents of Buena Vista Drive were in it for the long haul. And that they didn’t play.
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 6
     
         Marty Hankins was much more than just a truck driver. He was a planner, a plotter, and a natural born leader. He grew up that way, knowing that when he walked into a room, some people would just gravitate to him. To ask his opinion of certain things. His positions on the political and societal issues of the day.
         And they wouldn’t just ask him the questions. They’d listen intently for his answers. And many times, his positions would become theirs.
         Marty had given up long before asking why this was. He just learned to accept it.
         So it was just a given that Marty became the leader of the group of truck drivers who’d said to hell with Saris 7. They wouldn’t give up like most of the rest of the world. They wouldn’t blow their brains out or lock themselves in a  garage with a running car to gas themselves to death. No. They would find a way to survive.
         Marty had been planning for many weeks. And here he was, a full week after Saris 7 had collided with the earth outside of Shenyang, China. A week after the sky had become the color of chocolate milk, obscuring the sun for what scientists said would be the next seven years. Here he was, at the Trucker’s Paradise truck stop, with three other men and a woman, all looking to him for answers.
         And Marty had them. He had all the answers. He had his plan laid out long before Saris was due to arrive. And in choosing him as their leader they’d made a smart move. He’d make sure they survived.
         The day Saris 7 hit was surreal. Most of the truckers on Interstate 10 outside of Junction, Texas had dropped their trailers on the side of the highway or at the truck stop. Then they’d taken their trucks, filled them with diesel, and bobtailed it to wherever home was. They decided it would be better to die with their families than all alone on a desolate highway somewhere.
         The