Cami hid the smile on her face with the back of her hand. "Okay, Mitch—why don't you take a shot and we’ll give Amber a minute to recover."
Mitch stepped up to the plate, considerably less confident than with the bolt-action rifle. He took the shotgun, examined it a brief moment, then racked it to eject the spent shell.
Cami approached, picked up the shell and dropped it into a pouch on her hip. "We’re not leaving any evidence we were here guys," she replied when Mitch arched an eyebrow. Cami stepped back and raised a hand in her defense. "I know, I know—it's the end of the world…but I make my living—or I made my living—in the woods. I'm not gonna start trashing the place over the apocalypse." She shooed Mitch away. "Go on, get."
Mitch nodded, settled himself behind the shotgun and took aim. This time, Cami smiled in approval. He leaned toward the target just slightly, relaxed his muscles more than he had during the long rifle practice, and maintained firm control over the weapon. He tried to mimic Amber's breathing technique, and when the shotgun went off, it even surprised Cami.
Mitch’s body took the kick much better than Amber’s, and as a result, when he turned and lowered the shotgun, a broad smile split his face, his teeth white through his bushy beard. "That. Was. Awesome!" he called out. He racked the shotgun, ejected the second shell, and stooped to pick it up. "Can I go again?" he asked Amber as he handed the shell to Cami.
Amber sullenly rubbed her shoulder and nodded. "Be my guest. "I've never liked how much those things kicked. Why did dad have to go and sell that little .410 I used to have?"
"Because it was only good for shooting snakes," Cami replied, "and the occasional house sparrow." She shrugged. "He needed the space to get that toy Mitch has got right now," Cami added. "Takes it with him every time we go sailing."
Cami smiled at the memory of Reese behind the wheel of their sailboat, as he reminded her of the threat of real pirates to blue water cruisers. In all the times they’d been sailing, he’d never needed it, thankfully.
Cami shook herself free of the memory and watched as Mitch took position to fire at the stump from the hip. The recoil threatened to twist him sideways, but he managed to keep control and once more turned away from the battered target with a wide grin on his face. "Can I keep it?"
Cami laughed. "No," she said as she took the weapon from his hands and handed it back to Amber. "But I think when push comes to shove, I want Amber behind the long gun, and you'll handle this."
"Done," Amber said and threw her hands up. "I don’t want that demon thing in my hands again," she said with a laugh.
Mitch smiled. “Sounds good to me!"
Cami put her hands on her hips. "Well, we've used up most of the morning. Let's get something to drink, and we’ll finish the morning with handguns." She looked up at the patch of blue sky overhead. "I want to make sure we get back while we still have good weather."
“Looks fine to me,” Mitch commented, with a glance at the sky.
“Problem is, we’ve all grown accustomed to being able to just pull out a phone and check the weather for the next few hours or days. Now? I have no idea what’s coming. There could be a hurricane out there in the Atlantic for all we know.”
“Dude, not funny—the tsunami was plenty, thank you very much,” Mitch said.
"Hey mom,” Amber said after she brought a bottle of water to her lips. “Even though the power’s out, do you think we can still access satellites?"
“I don’t know…” Cami replied. She took a drink from her own bottle.
Amber shifted the holster on her hip slightly and settled the pistol she wore in a more comfortable position. She examined the bottle in her hand and watched the water move. “I mean, it's not like anything affected the satellites, right? So, they should still be up there watching the weather."
Cami nodded. "You might be right…but without the Internet and cell towers, I don't know how our phones would connect to the satellites?"
"You guys have a satellite phone?" asked Mitch. "Those things don't need cell networks.”
"No, I don't," Cami said. "Well, I mean I do…I used to take one with me as an emergency backup when I was out on trips into the Brooks Range," Cami mused. "But it was just a bare-bones tool, no Internet, no nothing. Just a phone—it was fine for Alaska, mostly because I never needed it.”
"I bet Marty has one," Amber said.
Cami nodded. "I bet you're right.” She clapped her hands. “Okay, let's get the pistol range set up, then we’ll run through everything a few more times. After that, we can go home and find out if Marty has a sat phone.”
Chapter 16
Boston Convention Center
Boston, Massachusetts
Reese followed Semmi through the southeast entrance and entered a post-apocalyptic nightmare. As bad as things were on the outside, the convention center looked a hundred times worse on the inside.
The massive structure had the potential to house thousands upon thousands of people—if someone took the time to set it up right. Reese gawked at the sheer randomness of what the Scavengers had done.
Semmi frowned at Reese. “No time for lookie-loos, come on, man—the clocks’ running!”
“But I thought I was supposed to be the distraction,” Reese argued as they stumbled over piles of stolen goods stacked haphazardly in every square inch of open space. His head spun on a
