Afterburn (Next, #1)

by Scott Nicholson

DeVontay Jones chuckled behind her. “What were you going to do with that blade? Make us some chicken pot pie?” She replaced her machete and glowered at him. “Better than hoping you could shoot it down.” DeVontay touched his left eye and wiggled the glass prosthetic. “You got that

“That wasn’t funny even before Doomsday. Now it’s just sad.” “You didn’t marry me for my wit.” “We’re not married yet, remember. All the priests seem to be either dead or

walk side by side. He took her slim right hand with his left and gave it a squeeze. “Living in sin is okay with me.” Rachel squinted up at the hidden sun and whatever force, if any, lay

poked up through cracks in the highway, bent under the weight of yellow seeds. Waist-high weeds grew along the shoulders

Rachel nor DeVontay were inclined to stop and explore them. Experience suggested such places were more likely to harbor danger

thought you were done with that philosophical stuff,” DeVontay said. “I’m done

necessary. And it was often necessary, given what roamed the forests these days. “Maybe nobody’s left. People, I mean.” “I can’t believe that,” Rachel said. “If we’ve lasted this long, then others must have made it, too.” “Yeah, but we’ve got a bunker.” “Franklin’s surviving

compound of his. He’s probably getting cabin fever with no one to dismember but himself.” DeVontay shrugged his rifle strap down his arm and brought the weapon across his chest. They were coming up on a Honda sedan, which bore a thick coat of grime on its windows and blue paint. They had passed the same car plenty of times in the last five years, but it was wise to avoid complacency. You

opposite side of the road. The sedan had bottomed out in

been raided by scavengers. But at least they hadn’t been collected by the Zaps. DeVontay poked the barrel of his rifle through the open window. “Just like before. Never noticed this guy wore a wedding ring, though.”

voice fell.

they were old enough to take care of themselves. Even though the bunker was secure and defensible, she imagined plenty

I. But I’m stuck halfway and she’s not. “Kids are still there,” DeVontay said, turning away from the Honda.

like they’re resting in peace.” What a wonderful lie that was. As if all the horrors of the solar storms—the deaths

Zaps—were geared toward some great benevole...

was philosophy, and Rachel was done with it. Why couldn’t she jus...

from far away. They were

miles from Stonewall. They could likely make it before dusk if they pushed, but tracking the sun was difficult because of

daylight remained. The continuous auroras that sk...

like lace curtains were scarcely visible under full sunlight, but at night they cast their su...

pollution, the sky had once been far worse. In ...

smoke from burning cities required them to we...

was worth the risk. As they resumed their march, DeVontay fished a canteen from his pack. He gulped

clean, carefully filtered. She splashed some into her palm and rubbed the back of her neck.

grows up, and us. Not to mention a crotchety old hermit.” “Yeah, fine representatives of the human race. Except two of you are Zaps.” “I’m only half Zap, thank you very much. You of all people shouldn’t be such a racist.” “Depends on who we count as ‘people’ these days.” DeVontay’s skin was a rich, ebony shade, and his short curly hair revealed patches of gray above each temple. Although he was in his early thirties, he’d aged fast under the duress of the apocalypse.

dangers of the new world. They’d only encountered a few creatures today, and those had been rodent-sized and elusive, scurrying into the grass before they could glimpse any details. The animals gave the impression of disjointed menace, as if their bones were knitted together with barbed wire and their faces glinted like razors. “We have to think about it,” Rachel said. “They’re changing. Just like the Zaps.” “So you can sense them?”