Refugees from the Righteous Horde (Toxic World Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

from his blade. His own group had lost only two, so that made thirteen surviving besides him. Two more had slight wounds. The loss of blood combined with their hunger would probably make them keel over soon enough.
    In the meantime, they had fourteen people to divide up whatever was in the backpack.
    They tore it open, desperate for whatever was inside.
    Blankets. Nothing but blankets. Everyone took one but that wouldn’t make any difference. Cold won’t kill you if you’re in a group. You can always huddle up at night and keep warm with the body heat of the people around you. But no amount of warmth would ease the ache in your belly.
    Jeb took the bag, now practically weightless for lack of anything in it. A canvas bag from the Old Times was worth trading for, and while none of these starving fools thought they’d ever make a trade again, Jeb was going to survive. He was going to make it to a hundred, and to survive in this world for seventy more years he was going to have to be resourceful.
    “Now what?” someone asked. He seemed to be asking Jeb.
    Jeb sighed, looked around. “This is the third fight we’ve been in with other groups and we haven’t found shit to eat. We need a new plan.”
    “What?” the man asked. His eyes were pleading, almost like a child’s. They seemed to say , Tell me what to do, I’m scared and I need to be told what to do.
    Weakling , Jeb thought.
    “It’s been almost two weeks since the attack. I bet New City’s farmers have gone out to their land by now,” Jeb said. “You got to maintain a farm.”
    “You suggesting we raid one?” Leonard asked. Leonard was the biggest of the group, nearly a head taller than Jeb with a broad chest, massive arms and a spray of brilliant red beard barely dimmed by a crust of dirt. He was the only one besides him with a bit of spirit left, and the only one who might cause Jeb some trouble.
    “I don’t think we have a choice,” Jeb replied.
    “They have guns, blockhouses!” another of the machete men whined.
    One of the men they had cut down moaned and rolled onto his side. Leonard pulled a clasp knife from his pocket and went over to him.
    “Yeah, it’s dangerous. We’ll have to take them by surprise,” Jeb said.
    “They’ll be on the watch. There will be patrols,” another complained.
    Leonard looked up from his work, his pants wet with fresh blood. “If we can dodge the patrols we can get in to one of the farms closer to New City. I bet everyone else has been running away from that area, so they won’t be expecting us.”
    The machete men looked doubtful. Jeb looked at Leonard.
    “I’m up for it if you are,” Jeb said. “Too risky to do alone.”
    “I’m in,” the big man said.
    “Let’s go then,” Jeb said. “Anyone want to go a different way, feel free.”
    Everyone followed him as he headed back down the dry riverbed in the direction from which they had come.
    Jeb had been a scavenger most of his life. When times got bad he’d stay in a settlement or hire out to one farmer or another, but he preferred his freedom and mostly lived out in the wildlands. His sense of direction was flawless. While all the meanderings and nighttime rushes away from patrols and larger groups of machete men had left the rest of his group hopelessly disoriented, he knew exactly where New City stood.
    The mountains to the east made a perfect guide. Judging from that jagged spire to the left of the broad triangular peak, they had about a day’s march due south to get in line with the furthest farms away from New City. Then they’d have to walk another half day toward the sea. Of course the outlying farms would probably still be vacant. Call it two days march in total, assuming these idiots could keep up. A couple of them were already lagging behind.
    They walked a steady pace without talking for an hour until one of the wounded men stopped and sat down on a stone. He placed his machete point-down in the soil and rested his hands and forehead