D C Little [Little - Grant Us Mercy

GRANT

US

MERCY

A Post-Apocalyptic Serial Novel:

I n s t a l l m e n t T W O

D C L I T T L E

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the authors imaginations or are used fictitiously.

Copyright 2019 DC Little, Little Publishing

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

DEDICATION

To my Mountain MacGyver who inspires me every day and my special boy who sees things others only wish they could.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Wow! What a journey this has been! I have to say my first thank you to the wonderful lady, talented author, fierce mama, and supportive friend, Heather Yates, for encouraging me to go forth with my dream of writing Post-Apocalyptic even though it is so different from the genre I found my success in.

Of course, I need to thank my writers group, Women Writers of the Well. Without all of your support and encouragement I still would be writing stories for my eyes only. Its been fun sharing this series with you every step along the way!

A heart-felt thank you to my fantastic editor, Dianne McCleery. Without your guidance and keen eye, my books wouldnt be near as clean and consistent! And my ARC readers whose encouragement feeds me during those dry spells.

Thanks to my mom for her unwavering support and encouragement. And a special thanks for my Sis, whose namesake will be making a special star appearance later on in the series.

And of course, where would I be without the two main men in my life! Thank you, My Love, for helping me with all the nuances of natural disasters and survival thinking. Your support in this project keeps me going strong. Thank you, My Little Love, for understanding how important Mommys writing time is and being excited whenever I receive one of my books in the mail.

~1~

D ATE: October 14 11:37

Silence filled the bunker, the type of silence Kris thought would exist in a tomb. Empty. Void of life. She looked up at the ceiling knowing yards of dirt separated her from the life that still forged on up there.

She couldnt hear the crickets chirping, nor wind singing through the trees. She didnt understand the absoluteness of silence until spending time in the bunker. Moving closer to her sons body wrapped around her, she took solace in hearing the slight whisper of his breath.

The urge to open a window and look out about drove her mad. Had the rain come with enough ferocity to douse the raging fire? Or were those flames right now devouring her land, her home, and her memories?

She untangled herself from Tucker who had refused to sleep alone in the hammock and quietly sat on the edge of the thin, springy mattress. Her son rustled in the bed, snuggling into the warm spot she had just vacated. The air tensed, and though she couldnt see her hand in front of her, she knew her movement had awoken Blake on the other side of the bed.

Kris froze. The last thing she wanted was a conversation with him. There was too much to say, too many emotions living behind those words to be useful. She needed space.

Her gaze roamed the pitch black, closed-in box holding her family. She couldnt see the restricting walls, but she could feel their cold metal presence. The only thing she didnt have right now was space.

The darkness enveloped her, and she hoped Blake would fall back asleep. Her breath came silently, long and deep. The air tasted stale and dense. What she wouldnt give to go outside and breathe the pine-scented breeze.

To her dismay the sheet rustled, and the unmistakable pure manly scent of her husband came on waves of air caused by his movement. Her body reacted, and an instant need to be in his arms and comforted washed over her.

Her mind though, reinforced the invisible wall between them, a wall as dark as the space surrounding them. She wanted to focus on anything besides him and settled on the throbbing of her injured hand.

His presence invaded her barriers, overwhelming her with the heat of his torso moving to rest on the squeaky mattress next to her. He turned on the dim, red light on the wall next to the bed. It illuminated his naked, sculpted chest in a soft glow. Why did he have to sleep in his underwear? Couldnt he at least have worn a shirt?

Her mind swirled. Here she was worried about her husband sitting inches away from her when outside the world was burning. People were probably dying or fleeing their homes with nowhere to go. The quandary almost caused her to let out a cynical laugh, but she caught herself just in time.

Cant sleep? Blakes gravely voice broke the eerie silence. He set the light on his lap and rubbed his face and short hair with large, thick hands.

Where had he been for the last year? She noticed a few new scars, still puckered pink on his arms and chest. Desire to know everything about his time away flooded her, but she dammed up the rush. So much time had passed. She had accustomed herself to the life of a single mom. It would take time readjusting to his constant presenceif he remained as he had promised.

Im worried about my parents, and my brother. The statement wasnt a lie. She had been thinking of them, among many other things.

Theyre prepared. Theyll make it. He yawned and stretched.

Maybe the CME didnt affect them? Hoped lined her voice, but with one look of Blakes resigned features glowing in the red light, she knew the hope was false.

Im not sure, but with auroras like that, I would surmise this to be a national event, if not global.

She hung her head. Her family still lived in the rurals of Idaho where she left them when she had gone off to college in California. Who knew she would meet a crazy, military survivalist and fall in love? She had always planned on returning.

Your brother knows what hes doing. Remember? Last Christmas they talked about their rendezvous plan so he could get your parents to his land.

You werent here last Christmas, she said. Her words held no bite, only exhaustion and acceptance.

She reminded herself that he had sent contact. Her eyes instinctively went to the tub in the dark corner. Its outline was barely visible in the soft red glow. The tub contained the secret coded messages Blake had sent over the last year, the messages her six year old boy decoded himself and didnt share with her, out of fear she was certain.