Apocalypse Cowboy: Futuristic Romance with Zombies Read Online Free

would pretend he lay in bed with her, his mouth and hands pleasuring her.
    But his phantom actions would never give her the family she longed for.
    Part of her now wished she’d thrown responsibility to the wind and enjoyed a few more blissful months with him before tragedy stuck, but who would have taken care of her family?
    And why did gardening always make her thoughts turn to her memories of the past?
    She ripped at the weeds that had cropped up in more aggressive numbers than the vegetables, an ongoing battle she used to vent her frequent frustration.
    Why do I bother? We’ve got enough canned vegetables to last us a lifetime. Hannah shuddered at the thought of eating mushy peas for the next forty or fifty years. With renewed vigor, she hacked at the thick root of a dandelion.
    Intent on her task, it took her a moment to register the sound in the distance. Much like an audio mirage, her ears didn’t believe what they heard, and when she did clue in, her jaw dropped.
    That sounds like a motorcycle.
    Pulling off her gloves, and with a rapidly beating heart, she strode to the front of the house to see Uncle Fred peering at a cloud of dust fast approaching.
    “Get the gun,” Fred said, his eyes squinting in the sun. “And help me get into the house.”
    Hannah wanted to protest that they couldn’t be sure whoever approached meant them harm, but she only had to think of the movies she’d seen—to recall the madness she fought daily—to know prudence should come first.
    After wheeling her uncle’s wheelchair quickly into the house, Hannah bolted the door and called for her sister. “Beth! Get down here.”
    The long, tanned legs of her sister, followed by the rest of her, came skipping down the stairs. “What’s got your panties in a knot?” asked her blonde sibling. “I thought you wanted that bathroom clean.”
    “I still do, but someone’s coming. Quick, get into the cellar and take Uncle Fred with you,” Hannah ordered as she grabbed the shotgun from its spot in the corner by the front door.
    But Beth didn’t budge. With bright eyes, she asked, “Why are we hiding then? Maybe whoever it is has got news of other survivors. Maybe it’s a man.” She clasped her hands together and bounced a bit in excitement.
    Fred snorted. “You’ve got less brains than most blondes, Bethie. What if it’s a scout for some gang looking for gals to sell? What if—”
    Hannah cut off her uncle before he listed all the possibilities that could befall two girls in a lawless land—it tended to be lengthy. “Just get your ass downstairs now. I’m not taking any chances.”
    “That’s the problem,” Beth grumbled as she grabbed the handles to Fred’s wheelchair. “We finally find someone alive, and we’re going to hide like rabbits in a burrow instead of befriending him.” Even as she complained, Beth wheeled their uncle down to the cellar using the rickety ramp they’d built for emergencies.
    With the door shut behind them and the sounds of the motorcycle closer, Hannah cracked open the shotgun and made sure it held some casings before she snapped it shut. Sliding the pump forward, she chambered a shell and then stood behind the front door, resisting an urge to go on tiptoe and peer through the half-moon window.
    I hate to say Beth is right, but what if whoever is coming is friendly? It would be nice to see other people again.
    Or the person coming could be a psycho rapist who would hurt her and Beth before killing them all.
    Safety lay in staying here, undiscovered . She wouldn’t chance the well-being of her family, no matter how lonely it got.
    The sound of the revving engine echoed loudly in the still house, and Hannah found her hands sweating around the stock of the gun. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm down. The chances of the person stopping were small, infinitesimally so.
    Nothing to see here. Just a lonely little house on a farm.
    Hello, heart attack. Hannah’s heart stuttered and almost stopped