The Last Tribe Read Online Free PDF Page B

there even any survivors? 
For the last month he followed his father’s advice, hid from people, moved
around at night.  He was more or less playing a game rather than living in
fear.  Now he did not know how to feel.
    Greg looked around.  He had a creepy
feeling that he was being watched.  He did not hear or see anyone.  He shook
off his fear and continued towards his destination.  After twenty minutes he
stood in front of Ms. Berry’s.  The house was dark and quiet.  He tried the
front door.  It was locked.  He walked around the house to find a backdoor he remembered
from the cookout.  That door was also locked.
    “Darn it.”  Greg muttered.  He noticed
a window was open a crack.  He reached over and pushed it up.  The window was
at chest level, and Greg struggled to pull himself up from the ground.  He
looked around in the moonlight and noticed a lawn chair.  He pulled it under
the window, and a moment later he was inside Ms. Berry’s house.
    It was cold and dark inside.  Greg
timed his journey with a rising half moon.  He had two weeks of half to full
and then back to half moon again.  It provided light for his hike.  Inside the
house his only source of light was gone.  Greg stood in the kitchen just inside
the window, as if he were a burglar, keeping quiet and still.  He considered
using a flashlight, but he did not want to draw attention to the house.
    The home was empty.  It was a
perfect place for him to spend his first night, but Greg was wide awake.  The short
trip had taken more time than he expected, but there was plenty of night left
for him to walk. 
    He considered his options.  He
could go back to campus, and settle into The Founder’s Library at Hightower. 
It was a small brick building with comfortable furniture and a giant fire
place.  He could live there through the winter.  He thought the cold might mask
the smell of the rotting corpses.
    Hightower was the safe and easy
choice, except there was no food.  Greg scoured the dining hall kitchen for
non-perishable food, but it was all gone, eaten by healthcare workers and
government officials during their occupation of the school.  He scavenged a few
cans of franks and beans, and one large can of green beans, but his food
options were reduced to sifting through dorm rooms for candy bars and snack
foods.  Yesterday he ate his last bowl of beans.
    Greg had not spoken to anyone for a
month, and he desperately wanted to see another person.  Hightower was
deserted.  If making the trip to Hanover gave him the opportunity to find his
father and brothers or one of his uncles, and he could talk to someone?  That
reward alone was worth the journey.  Greg needed companionship.
    He made the decision to move
forward towards New Hampshire.  The practice run to Ms. Berry’s was over.
    Greg’s eyes adjusted to the
darkness as he felt around the kitchen cabinets.  He opened several in hopes of
finding food.  He was rewarded with a pantry of soup.  He pulled the top off a
can and used two fingers like a spoon to taste the contents.  He could not read
the label in the dark, but was so ravenous he did not care what flavor he
scooped.  He brought the can closer and continued to finger the thick, cold
split pea soup into his mouth.  Despite the temperature and unappealing
consistency, Greg devoured the can quickly.
    He washed his fingers in the
kitchen sink before cupping water into his mouth to drink.
    Greg placed the two additional cans
of soup from the cabinet into his backpack.  His former teacher was a single
woman who hated to cook.  The only other food he could find was a box of raisin
bran.  Greg pulled the plastic bag from the box and placed the cereal in his
pack before zipping the top compartment and slinging it.
    He unlocked the door to the
backyard, walked outside, and made his way to Highway 93 North. 
    His stride was longer and his pace
quicker as he began the journey to meet his family in Hanover, New