Warfare Season: An Apocalyptic Thriller Read Online Free PDF Page A

and he would have to wait it out in his room for hours at a
time; something that happened often. He used one of the disposable
plastic spoons he had brought with him.
    Even
though he had chugged water before he left, the three miles of
walking had already left him feeling dehydrated. He drank a 16oz
bottle of water in a matter of seconds.
    Already
exhausted, his shoulders were slumped. The empty bottle of water was
dangling in his hand as he stared straight ahead, still trying to
catch his breath. He was in good shape, but the anxiety made his
breathing more rapid than what it should have been.
    He
was tired, but not sleepy. The ground was his bed. Bringing a pillow
and sleeping bag along with all his other stuff would have been
simply too much. Thanks to a very unaccommodating childhood friend he
had growing up, this wouldn't be the first time he had to sleep
without a pillow or blanket.
    As he lied there staring up at the sky, he began to
doubt that sleep would ever come, but then he would just think about
those times when he would crash over at his friend's place; the
unaccommodating one. He had also done it before at camp; again, in
his childhood. If he could coax himself into a slumber back then
under those conditions, he could do it now.
    His
major concern was being spotted by the groundskeeper on night patrol.
It was possible that there was no one on duty that particular night,
especially with everything that had been happening. After all, not
even the grocery stores were open.
    He
brushed an ant off his arm and closed his eyes. He practiced deep
breathing exercises, trying to get his pulse to slow down.
    The
air still retained its smoky fragrance from the recently extinguished
fires throughout the town.
    The
thought of quitting and turning himself into the emergency camp was
continuously running through his mind, and if things got much worse,
he would probably have to resort to that. Or would he?
    For
a minute, he had begun to convince himself that he was suffocating,
but then he realized that he was suffering from an anxiety attack.
    Eventually,
he managed to ease his mind somewhat and drift into a sleepy state.
But the anxiety was still there.
    As
he began to doze off, an almost epiphany-like feeling swept over him;
a horrid epiphany. He started to process everything that had been
happening. Feeling way in over his head, he began to question his
choices and he started to doubt his decisions. What if he didn't make
it out of the whole mess alive? Even if he did, life would never be
the same.

Chapter 7

    It was daylight. He woke up
surprised that he had actually gotten some sleep. He looked at the
digital clock on his cell phone: 7:50.
    Another ant crawled on him,
passing over his shoe. Under normal conditions, he would shudder at
the thought of bugs crawling on him all night as he slept, but now,
it was the least of his concerns.
    He skeptically opened his
bag, anticipating a horde of ants to be crawling through all of his
stuff. They were not. He sighed in relief and pulled out a pack of
pop tarts for breakfast. He followed that with a few sips of water,
and then he headed out of the cemetery the same way he came in.
    He got about five steps out
before a voice from across the street shouted at him. It was Thomas.
“Hey!” he signaled Austin, trying to get him to wait.
    Austin kept walking, but
Thomas kept jogging until he caught up with him.
    “ Hey, could you help
me out?”
    Austin drew his
switchblade, drawing the attention of Thomas to it.
    “ Oh, I don't want any
trouble,” Thomas said. “Because I saw that you have the
big bag there, and I could just really use some food.”
    Austin looked hesitant.
    Thomas smiled. “I'm
not gonna rob you, man. I would have just sneaked up from behind you
if I was gonna do that.”
    Austin put his switchblade
away. “I really don't have that much.”
    “ Could you spare what
you can?” he asked.
    Austin reluctantly agreed.
    “ Okay, let's not do
it here, though,”