EMP Catastrophe , Hamilton, Grace [phonics readers txt] 📗

that sounded—he was so over Lucky Charms). He wanted to get some fresh air. Stretch his legs. Spread his wings.

The sun peeked over the tops of the mountains, and Patton wished he could practice his dry-firing. For a moment, he considered sneaking one of the handguns from his grandma or father, but that idea went out the window. He knew he’d be in deep trouble for that one, and not even the rush of disobedience was enough to make it worthwhile. So it seemed lucky, like toy-in-the-cereal-box kind of lucky, that when he leapt off the front porch of the hotel and started to walk through the fields, he came upon a very special stick.

It was long like the shotgun and smooth like the polished barrel, and he could tuck one end into his armpit while aiming the tapered point toward the birds that fluttered across the sky. It was almost as good as the shotgun his dad carried around. He pretended to aim at the branches and gave the stick a jolt in mock-firing, pretending that he’d absorbed the recoil effortlessly. He practiced keeping both eyes open while he aimed, even tracking clouds across the sky before mock-pulling the trigger. He pretend-shot the leaves, a rabbit that hopped across his path, he even pretended to shoot the sky. His marksmanship was flawless. He began to win awards. Crowds of fans put him on their shoulders with a rah-rah-rah and told him he was one of the best gunmen history had ever known. Better than Jesse James.

“Patton! Patton, where do you think you’re going? Patton!”

His grandmother’s sharp voice cut through his daydream. Patton sighed and lowered his stick, turning to see Ruth power walking toward him with her arms wrapped tight around her torso. Her shawl fluttered behind her in the light breeze. Okay, he probably should have told someone where he was going. But couldn’t a guy get a little peace and quiet? Did he always have to leave a note? Did everyone have to know where he was at all hours?

“I’m just playing, Grandma,” he said, showing her the stick. “Wanted to go for a walk. I’m fine—”

A heavy weight landed on his shoulder. The dragon of fear inside of him jerked awake and blew flames of terror into Patton, making Patton’s heart stutter. A hot wave rushed through him. Ahead of him, Ruth came to an abrupt stop. Her face reflected the same kind of fear churning inside of Patton and it reminded him of how she looked when Samuel West ruled the roost: helpless, worried, and frustrated.

The hand on Patton’s shoulder tightened painfully. Patton’s breath eased out of him in a soft gasp and he wondered with dread if Samuel had come back and now had Patton in his clutches.

“Come here, ma’am,” the voice behind Patton beckoned. “I’d like to have a little chat.” The hand was blunt-fingered and tattooed. Definitely not Samuel’s. When Ruth faltered, the hand on Patton’s shoulder turned into a viselike grip, and he let out a small squeak of pain. He could feel the person’s fingers digging into his skin, probably leaving bruises.

Ruth took a couple reluctant steps closer. She looked grave. “Let him go, please. Please, I’m begging you.”

“Hush, ma’am. None of that. I’m not here to do him any harm.”

Ruth was close enough that Patton could see the stark dread on his grandmother’s face, and he felt helpless. Once again, he’d failed. He wasn’t a warrior. He was just a stupid kid who kept getting into messes. He was the person who got kidnapped, who had to be saved all the time. Some kind of warrior he turned out to be. He was the damsel in distress.

“What do you want?” Ruth asked and tightened the shawl around her as though it were her own armor.

“I’d like to introduce myself,” the man said. “My name is Colin, and it’s very nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m here looking for information.”

Patton felt the man behind him shift, like he was bending over. Then he felt the man’s other arm loosely encircle his shoulders and a cold flat sharpness cut into his neck. Instinctively, Patton’s chin tilted up as if to avoid what felt like a knife blade, but instead, it only exposed his neck that much more. Ruth’s face took on a horrified expression, and even though Patton’s limbs felt like jelly, he tried to make his face stoic and strong for her.

The dragon of fear in him had taken flight, but he couldn’t let that turn his resolve into mush even as he blinked back tears. He wanted to be brave for his grandmother, but even so, his knees shook.

“Don’t scream,” Colin said, and it seemed as though he was speaking directly to them both. Patton didn’t think he could scream if he tried. His voice had dried up like a raisin. The man’s voice slithered in Patton’s ears like something oily and evil. “You won’t like what I do if you scream. Like I said before, I’m only looking for some information.”

‘What do you want?” Ruth asked, her lips tight with fear and rage.

“I hope you can answer some questions for me,” Colin said, moving the knife just enough so that Patton now knew what people meant when they said a blade could bite.

“Fine.” Ruth glared at Colin.

“Has a Max Patterson showed up around here?”

The hairs on the back of Patton’s neck stood up. His grandma’s face twisted, as if the question tasted bitter. Don’t tell him, Patton begged her silently. He knew that if she said yes, that Uncle Max was home, this Colin would do all kinds of terrible things. He might even be worse than Samuel West.

“Yes,” Ruth said after only a moment’s hesitation, and it felt as though she’d released a guillotine blade.

“How do you know him?” Colin asked.

Grandma, don’t. Don’t sell Uncle Max out. Warriors don’t give up.

Ruth’s pause extended into drawn out silence. A bird chirped overhead. The knife bit further into Patton’s