Chapter 3 Ashton Foster

Less than two hours later, my dad returned, carrying someone over his shoulder.

My mom eyed the unconscious man on the ground and then at the drool dripping from my dad's mouth. "Did he try to crack your skull open? I'll cook him for you. But don't eat him raw— who knows what kind of parasites he's carrying."

With that, she hauled the body off to the bathroom.

That bathroom doubled as our kitchen, not that we had much choice. We only had a basement, a small break room, a toilet, and the staff locker area.

The only reason we still had running water and electricity was due to a hydroelectric station 30 miles away.

Six months ago, the power and water had been cut off, prompting my dad's initial foray for supplies. Fortunately, the utilities were restored not long after.

According to the radio, a survivor base had been set up near the station.

It wasn't that we didn't want to join them, but taking my dad along complicated things. I couldn't risk someone blowing his brains out.

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