The Lucky Ones (Evergreen Book 3) Read online

  I shouldn’t dwell on crap I can’t change.

  Harper pulled out of her depressive dive, sitting up and forcing her tears to retreat back into her eyes. Where sorrow receded, anger bloomed, fury at whoever started the war. What possible reason could anyone have had to use weapons like nukes? Brainless, heartless, or insane…

  With a sigh, she forced herself to her feet and resumed patrolling her assigned area, trying to cling to good memories. She pictured the moment Madison finally put her dead phone down, or her reaction when her friend Becca arrived in town. Even gloomy Mila Cline had eased off on the morbidity. With the threat of the Shadow Man (men) removed entirely, the girl had stopped trying to deliberately alienate herself from other kids by saying dark things. Acting super creepy had been her way to protect them from the men she expected would show up to kidnap or kill her. Surprisingly, the girl admitted to the rest of the class why she’d been so weird. However, she retained a precocious dark humor more befitting an adult than a girl of nine.

  Harper spent a few minutes trying to remember when that girl’s birthday fell, wanting to say July, but not entirely sure. Maybe they should still celebrate birthdays. Only, it had a totally different meaning now. Congrats on surviving for another year. Will you see another one?

  “Dammit. Now I sound like Mila.”

  She proceeded down the road, muttering, “Rainbows and bunnies” to herself for a few minutes.

  The strong fragrance of grilled fish hung in the air around the house.

  Harper sat on her front porch step, Logan on the porch behind her. She reclined against his chest, content to trust the .45 handgun in a belt holster and leave the shotgun inside. Her friend Renee sat beside her on the step with Grace cross-legged on the ground facing them.

  Cliff and Carrie cooked on the backyard grill, which made her feel all too much like a kid in a functional family with parents again. Madison, Jonathan, Lorelei, Becca, and Mila ran around kicking a ball, though whether or not they attempted any sort of organized scoring remained a mystery. Other than a little extra dirt and frump to their clothes, they didn’t appear to be survivors of a nuclear war… not unless Harper looked them in the eye and saw the hollowness where joy and innocence once dwelled.

  Except for Lorelei. She still brimmed with both, laughing and giggling enough for everyone.

  Harper watched her zooming around after the big red ball, no doubt ‘borrowed’ from the school gym. Her mother was so horrible to her. Except for nearly starving to death, nuclear war improved her life. Though far less energetic and giggly, even Mila appeared to be enjoying herself. What did that crazy wanna-be ninja do to her? The girl hadn’t spoken much of what those men put her through other than keeping her locked up and trying to train her into some kind of assassin. At one point, they tried to make her shoot a man in the head, but she refused.

  Both of them lived in their own personal hells. I got nerve feeling sorry for myself.

  “What’s on your mind, Harp?” asked Renee. “You look like you wanna kill someone.”

  Grace winced. “That’s not funny anymore.”

  Logan reached around and took her hand. “You okay?”

  “Just being moody. Spent most of the day thinking about my parents. But we really had a great life up until the war. I was just thinking about Lore and the bullshit she had to deal with at only six. Or Mila. Who seriously tries to brainwash a little kid into being a killer?”

  “Bad things happen to a lot of people,” said Logan. “Awful stuff happening to them doesn’t make your pain any less real. You and Maddie saw crap no kids should ever see. I lost my parents, too. And Luisa.”

  “You didn’t watch them die. They didn’t die because you hesitated…” Harper filled her lungs through her nose, held the breath for a few seconds, and let it out. Everyone in town had suffered loss. Maybe he had a point. “I guess you’re right.”

  “It’s okay to be sad.” Grace fidgeted at the grass by her foot. “How twisted do you think I feel that my first reaction to learning my parents died was relief? Not like they were awful parents, just super strict and demanding. Making every decision for me, telling me exactly how my life would go. I feel like I escaped a cage.”

  Renee wiped tears. “Great. Now you guys got me thinking about my mom. I have no idea what happened to her or where she is.”

  “We’re all a little broken.” Logan squeezed her hand.

  “Some more than others,” whispered Harper.

  “Maddie still talking to her phone?” asked Renee in a hushed tone.

  Harper shook her head. “No. And I meant me. What am I doing running around with a gun? How twisted is it that I’ve shot people and no one seems to mind?”

  “You’ve always been good at it.” Renee picked up her water glass. “Now you’re helping keep us all safe. I couldn’t do that. I screamed every time the stupid thing went off that time your dad took me to the range with you guys.”

  Harper laughed at the memory. “Yeah. You threw his Beretta over your head when the guy in the next lane fired that hand cannon.”

  “Loud noises get me every time.” Renee blushed. “Oh, hey… next Sunday.”

  The better mood brewing inside Harper crashed into her lap, along with her stare. “I’d rather just forget it.”

  “Aww, why?” asked Renee.

  “Forget what?” asked Grace and Logan at the same time.

  Harper shot Renee a ‘don’t you dare’ look.

  Her friend bowed her head, seeming about to cry.

  That made her feel like she’d kicked a puppy. “Ugh. Sorry. My birthday’s on the second.”

  Renee lifted her gaze off the ground, managing a weak smile.

  “Oh, nice.” Grace reached for a high-five.

  “Happy birthday,” whispered Logan.

  Harper begrudgingly mashed hands with Grace. “Thanks. It’s just… my friends and I had all these glorious ideas for the ‘big one-eight,’ but they’re all gone except for Renee. And… parents.”

  “They’re not dead. They can’t all be dead.” Renee covered her face with both hands. “We all lived fairly close. Our area wasn’t hit that hard. They would’ve survived the bombs. I gotta believe they’re okay, somewhere. ”

  “I’m trying to believe that, too.” Harper leaned her head back against Logan’s shoulder, gazing up at the clouds. If the war hadn’t happened, by the end of this summer, her friends would have all gone in different directions anyway for college. Not like they would’ve been hanging out constantly anymore. At least, not all of them would be. Mom said she hadn’t seen her high school friends in years. “All we can do right? Try to stay positive.”

  “Pretty much. Keep smiling and save the random fits of intense crying for when no one’s watching.” Renee made a face like she only half joked.

  “Better not lose it too bad.” Harper poked her in the side. “All the therapists have been vaporized.”

  Her friends chuckled.

  Jonathan shouted, “Look—”

  The giant red kickball walloped Renee in the head, knocking her over backward off the porch steps.

  “—Out.”

  Mila and Lorelei erupted in laughter. Madison waited for Renee to sit up in good spirits before she, too, laughed.

  “Sorry.” Becca jogged over. “My fault.”

  “Ow.” Renee rubbed her nose. “I hate taking balls to the face.”

  Logan and Grace snickered. Harper bit her lip, fighting not to laugh.

  “Oh, funny.” Renee rolled her eyes. “I meant I hate the big red balls like from grade school dodgeball.”

  Harper cackled. “That’s even worse! So you don’t mind the other kind hitting you in the face?”

  Grace and Logan continued laughing, while the kids stared in confusion.

  “No. Argh!” Renee tried to growl, but wound up laughing, too. “You’re impossible. I hated dodgeball. This kid Ricky Myers always threw it at my face, trying to knock me off my feet.”

  “Oh, I reme
mber that. He was such a douchebag.” Harper sighed at grade school memories.

  “Kids?” called Carrie. “C’mon inside. Food’s ready.”

  “I should get back to the house. Anne-Marie’s going to want me to help cook.” Grace scrambled to her feet. “See you guys later.”

  Renee got up and hurried inside. Technically, Carrie had adopted her. Having her best friend living next door would have been awesome if not for such a situation requiring the end of civilization. Logan stood to leave and hugged Harper, respecting her not being ready for kissing yet. He shared a house with three other farm workers: two other boys from the Colorado Springs hockey team and a slightly older twentysomething guy, Juan. Though, the guys all slept under the same roof, they didn’t have organized meals like a family.

  Harper stood. For a brief, but intense moment, she wanted to scream at Carrie for not being Mom. How dare she act like the world remained normal, like they had a family… but the resentment imploded into a dense nugget of guilt that broke apart into acceptance. Both she and Madison could’ve been killed in their home. They could’ve died on the way to Evergreen. Lorelei might have starved in the street if Tyler hadn’t found her. Renee might have suffered horrible abuse at the hands of the Lawless gang if not for one well-timed scavenging trip to a hospital. Had Harper not been on that trip, one of the Evergreen militia may well have even killed Renee, mistaking her for a member of the gang.

  But they’d all managed to end up here, together.

  Family didn’t care so much about genetics anymore.

  With a smirk, she snagged Logan’s arm before he could walk away. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Umm…” He pointed toward the house he slept in, a decent way across town from there.

  “C’mon. Time to eat.” She pulled him inside with the rest of the family.

  2

  Fate and Circumstance

  Two days later on Thursday night, Harper slipped away to meet Logan at Earl’s bar, formerly the Evergreen Brewery and Tap House.

  Having a date, naturally, caused the expected good-natured teasing from Madison and Lorelei. Fortunately, Cliff didn’t do the douchebag thing of making a joke about shooting Logan if something happened. Dad used to do that every time she introduced a new boyfriend. He’d usually be cleaning one of his rifles when the boy walked in and would invariably say something like the boy would get a good close look at it if Harper wasn’t home by nine. The first kid she brought home, Marc, barely said two words their whole movie date and never even looked at her again after that night, thinking her Dad a psycho.

  Having Madison tease her about a boyfriend sounded so damn normal that she teetered at the edge of crying the whole walk to Earl’s. The oddity of walking into a bar at seventeen let her keep her emotions on an even keel. The place didn’t appear much different from how it had been before the war, with the exception of light coming from several oil lamps instead of electricity.

  Logan met her by the door and they walked in together, taking a booth seat among tables mostly populated by the forty-plus crowd. She slipped into the bench, sitting nervously while gazing around.

  “What?” Logan sat opposite her. “Something wrong?”

  “Just feels strange being in a bar. Like we’re not old enough. I keep waiting for someone to scream at me and kick me out.” She glanced to her left at the actual bar, where six guys ranging in age from fifty to seventy all wore handguns on their belts out in the open. “Especially with everyone carrying a gun.”

  Logan eyed the men. “They have guns? But they’re not militia.”

  “Nah. Walter only asks people with rifles to turn them in or join. They have plenty of handguns from the old sheriff’s armory. We’re not trying to disarm everyone, just put military style rifles to more practical use defending the town.”

  “Ahh.” He nodded, then picked up the pepper shaker, turning it over and over in his fingers while watching the grains tumble.

  A twentyish woman with shoulder-length auburn hair, green eyes, and a warm smile approached. “Hi, you guys. I’m Andie. You two are adorable. Is this your first date?”

  Logan opened his mouth, but demurred to her, perhaps unsure if she considered it a date as opposed to merely hanging out with a friend.

  “Second actually.” Harper managed a weak smile. “But I’m not nervous because of the date. Feels weird being in a bar.”

  Andie grinned. “Yeah. Lot of things these days feel weird. Never thought I’d end up waiting tables at my dad’s place. Never thought my dad would wind up running a bar either, but he got a great deal on the property.”

  Logan chuckled.

  “So, how’s this work?” asked Harper.

  “You two are both old enough for the beer, but if you don’t wanna go there we, of course, have water. Food’s available, but it’s whatever we got’s ready. Tonight, grilled veggies and potato burgers.”

  “Umm.” Harper tilted her head. “What’s a potato burger?”

  Andie held her hands together, making a disc with her fingers. “It’s a hockey puck of potato on bread like a hamburger. Meat doesn’t exactly keep long enough to store without electricity.”

  “Right.” Logan shrugged. “Sounds interesting.”

  “Cool. So, water or beer?” asked Andie.

  “How high octane is it?” Logan smiled.

  “A bit stronger than big brand beer, but it shouldn’t knock you on your ass.”

  Harper fidgeted. “Sure, why not? One won’t kill me.”

  “Sounds good.” Logan nodded.

  Aimee smiled at them and whisked off into the back room.

  Harper sat in silence for a moment, listening to the older people talking about various things from hunting to their theories on who started the war to wondering if anyone would try to resurrect the Pony Express. The response that there’d have to be enough other places to take crap to didn’t sound reassuring. One old guy thought the place needed a piano and whores. Harper went scarlet in the face.

  “Wow,” whispered Logan. “This feels like we’re halfway between the 1890s and a post-apoc video game… except no one’s using bottle caps for money.”

  “What?” She blinked at him. “Bottle caps?”

  “Something from a computer game I used to play. They use bottle caps like coins.”

  “Why not use actual coins?”

  “No idea.” He looked over at the bar. “I feel underdressed for the place.”

  “This isn’t exactly a fancy restaurant.” Harper tensed at motion coming up behind her, but relaxed upon realizing Andie approached.

  The woman set their beers in front of them, then pointed back over her shoulder with a thumb. “Food should be out in a minute. Doesn’t take too long to grill veggies.”

  They thanked her, and she headed off once again to the back room.

  “I mean… I’m the only one in the room except for Andie who isn’t carrying a weapon.”

  Harper became acutely aware of the weight of the .45 on her hip. She squirmed. “Yeah, well… some geniuses decided to light the sky on fire.”

  “Wonder how she’d react if I put a handful of bottle caps on the table when she brings the food.”

  “Probably think you’re littering.” Harper grinned. “No one’s using money at all anymore. It’s useless. Everyone lost it all anyway, except for the cash they had in their pockets. Money was all just numbers in computers that melted. People aren’t even really bartering. We’re just kinda helping out whoever needs it and everyone’s working together. I guess once we start feeling like death isn’t around every corner, we’ll probably start trading again… then someone will reinvent money.”

  Logan sipped his beer and his eyes nearly crossed. “Whoa. Okay, yeah. One of these is going to be plenty.”

  She leaned close to sniff her glass, a continuous spritz of cool foam at her cheeks. The high alcohol content made her eyes water. “Wow, you’re right. So, yeah. You know Lucas Garza?”

  “So
unds kinda familiar.”

  Harper took a sip of beer. Despite the strength of its aroma, it didn’t taste bad… well no worse than any other beer she’d ever tried, but it definitely had an after-burn in her mouth. “He used to be a celebrity. Had millions. Now he’s just like anyone else in town.”

  “Yeah.” He twisted his glass back and forth, peering at her past a flop of dark brown hair over his eyes.

  Laughter erupted from a man seated at the bar out of sight behind her, but an older man let out an enraged howl. A heavy thud preceded the clonks of several heavy glasses falling to the floor. Harper twisted around in her seat. A greying man in his early sixties she knew as Mr. Halliday repeatedly hammered the face of a younger Hispanic man into the bar top. The fortyish man—Bryson—got his legs under him the third time his head bounced off the wood. He shoved the older guy away and tried to back up from the bar, but tripped over the stool he’d been sitting on and landed flat on his back.

  Mr. Halliday stumbled from the shove, also falling over—due to being drunk.

  “Hey, knock it off!” yelled Harper. She leapt out of her seat and ran over, putting herself between them. “What the hell are you guys doing?”

  Bryson backed off, hands up. “Just a joke, Graham. Calm the hell down.”

  “I’ll show ya who’s old!” Graham Halliday pushed himself upright, but stumbled into the bar, knocking over an empty stool. He wobbled to his feet again and stared at her. “Get outta the way, missy.”

  Logan scrambled to his feet and started toward him, but stopped when Harper raised her hand.

  “Mr. Halliday. You’ve had too much beer. I think it’s time you should go on home for the night.” She tried to herd the old guy toward the door.

  “Bah. I don’t take orders from no potbellied plumber. I ain’t ’bout to take orders from no snot-nosed kid either.” Mr. Halliday lunged at Harper, trying to grab her.