The Resistance: Book 5 of the After The Event Series Read Online Free Page A

asked.
                  Simon kept walking. “In the morning and at night.” The man glanced up at the sun, which was on its way down. “You all are lucky and came toward the end of the day. We only have a few more hours of work.”
                  When they finally made it to the tree line Alec came face to face with the rest of Yankee camp.  They were all men. Most seemed middle-aged but all of them seemed to be nothing more than a collection of bones.  They worked in pairs, either cutting a tree down or cutting a fallen tree into smaller pieces.  The sight was one of the scariest things that Alec had ever seen, but even worse was the sound.  No one talked.  There were grunts and occasionally a quick cry of pain but nothing more.  The border of their work area consisted of several soldiers with their guns in hand, only sporadically glancing over in their directions.  The majority of these people probably wouldn’t even be able to run in their current condition.             
                  Simon walked over and began placing the cut-up pieces of wood onto a nearby flatbed truck.  After a few seconds he stopped and turned to them. “Help with this, then you can go cut.”
                  It only took the sun a few hours to set but those ended up being the longest hours of Alec’s life.  For the first hour he helped pick up the pieces of wood and place them into the truck, and then he began to cut down trees.  By the time the sun had met the horizon his back felt like it was on fire. Every muscle in his body ached and his clothes were drenched in sweat. The sound of a chiming bell came from the center of their camp and everyone dropped what they were doing and lined up facing the camp. Bruce and Alec fell in line and walked back.  Again nothing was said outside of the noise that comes with struggling to walk when every muscle burns.  The silence didn’t bother Alec as much this time, as he had to focus just to keep himself upright.
                  He followed his group to a large sheet metal building right in the middle of the camp.  There Rambo camp was already lined up for food.  Those men were also wearing clothing in bad need of repair and were also in need of a few pounds but they seemed to be better off than Yankee camp.  They waited in line quietly and when it was Alec’s turn the soldier handed him a single bowl of what looked like nothing more than yellow colored oatmeal. He wanted to complain but it let off the faint scent of corn which caused his empty stomach to growl loudly.  He followed the rest of his camp over to several large tables and sat down realizing that he didn’t pick up any silverware.  Alec looked around and saw that no one at the table had a spoon but then, without any hesitation they began using their hands to scoop up large globs of the substance and shove it in their mouths.
                  “What is this?” he heard Bruce ask no one in particular.
                  “Corn porridge,” someone said at the end of the table.
                  Alec’s stomach growled again and he tossed aside his hesitation and scooped up a handful of the porridge.  A small top layer of liquid ran off his hands and onto his shirt but the rest was thick enough he didn’t have any trouble shoving it into his mouth.  Alec waited for a taste that never came.  The stuff tasted like bland, lumpy oatmeal with a mixture of corn. Part of him wanted to spit it out; the other part was afraid of letting any of it go to waste.  In less than a minute his bowl was empty and his stomach screamed for more but looking around the table, he realized that wasn’t an option.
                  “Do we get up and get more, or do we have to ask?” Bruce asked quietly.
                  Simon shoot his head sadly. “You will get more in the morning.” He then promptly stood up and