Until the End of the World (Book 2): And After Read Online Free PDF Page B

with Whitefield. The black are those that are known to be gone. There aren’t many to begin with, but it looks as though there are more green pins than a few weeks ago.
    Adrian goes still, eyes locked on the wall. The pin in Idaho, where his mom and sister are, is green. No contact. Three weeks ago it was red. I take his hand and in my most hopeful tone, say, “It’s still green.”
    Will comes up behind us with a sigh. Adrian pulls his eyes away from that lonely green pin.
    “I was hoping to have better news for you today,” Will says. “We haven’t heard anything in two weeks. But all that could mean is they lost power. Maybe a generator died, or they ran out of gas. They don’t need fuel to live. I know they had supplies laid in for the winter. I’m not worried.”
    There’s no doubt in his voice. Will has a wife and two kids in Boston. He fought his way home, but they weren’t there. He still talks about them in the present tense. Adrian nods. There’s nothing more to say, and everyone looks away to give him a private moment.
    “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
    Adrian squeezes my hand twice, our code for I love you . I do the same. He blinks—a long, slow blink—and then takes a deep breath. “So, what else is going on, Will?”
    There’s nothing to do except move on. To file it under Fear or Grief or Overwhelming Sadness. To only let it out when you absolutely need to, and then, only in small doses. You laugh and joke about the terrible things, even when those jokes are in awful taste. At least that’s what we try to do, but it’s not always that easy.
    I sit at the glossy brown table between Adrian and Nelly. I wish there was a big box of donuts, like my old boss Julio would bring in. Right now I’d take one with rainbow sprinkles and a Boston cream. My stomach growls at thought of all that processed sugar.
    Nelly hears it and shakes his head. “Didn’t you just eat?”
    I rub my stomach. “Baby’s hungry.” His eyes widen until he catches Adrian’s grin, and then he shoves me.
    “This reminds me of work,” I say.
    “Mm, Julio’s donuts,” Nelly says. “I’d kill for a glazed.”
    “Rainbow sprinkles,” Adrian says. This is why we’re perfect for each other.
    “So,” Will says, and points at the maps, “we’ve lost contact with some other Safe Zones, too.”
    We were so busy looking at Idaho that I didn’t think about the green pins in the bottom of the map.
    “All south of us,” he says. “Southern Louisiana and San Jose de Morilitos in Mexico. Morilitos had lost contact with two Zones south of them before they went dark.”
    “Could be they’ve run out of fuel to power the generators,” John says. He steeples his fingers on the table and glances at Adrian. “If people have a choice between vehicles and radios, they’ll choose vehicles every time.”
    “True,” Will says. “I just want you all to know where we stand. Which is to say we don’t know a goddamned thing, as usual. Sometimes trying to keep all of this together is like pissing in the wind.”
    Will rubs the back of his neck with a meaty hand and stares at the map. “Approximately twenty thousand people. That’s all we know are left. Out of what, three hundred million? There could be thousands we don’t know about, but we can’t afford to lose a single one.”
    “If something’s moving north, we’ll know soon enough,” John says. “One of the Zones is bound to contact us, if that’s the case.”
    I’ve never seen Will so discouraged. None of us has, and we watch as he pulls himself together with a shake of his head. Adrian slides him a paper. “Here’s a list of the starts we brought you today. I’m working on plans so you’ll know where and when to plant.”
    Will glances at the paper and hands it to Ian, his right-hand man. “You’re getting the short end of the stick here, A. Like I said, you don’t need fuel to live, but we damn sure need food. Whatever you need, man, say the