Page 67 of Shelter (The Wanderers 4)

Storm pulled his gun out of the back of his jeans and palmed it. “Recognize anyone?”

“No.” Rush was also holding his gun.

Two men were walking lazily toward the cabin, chatting with each other as if they did this every day. They had no idea anyone was inside.

“Do you think anyone regularly occupies this shelter?”

“Not likely.” He moved toward the door. “Stay hidden. I’ll talk to them.”

Storm grabbed Rush’s biceps and pulled him back. “No. I’ll do it.”

Rush shook his head, glancing at the window. “No offense, but you have no experience with this sort of thing. I do.”

“No offense taken, but you have a baby on the way.”

Rush’s eyes went wide. “So do you. Now stay the fuck inside and I’ll deal with these two.” Rush jerked free of Storm’s grip, opened the door, and stepped outside before Storm could respond again.

“Fuck.” Storm hurried back to the window, staying out of sight. Luckily Rush left the door standing open so he could hear them.

Rush had tucked his gun back into his jeans and sauntered forward as if he were no threat. “Hey,” he stated casually, causing both men to finally notice him. They stopped dead, both pulling a weapon.

Rush held up his hands. “No need to get defensive. I mean no one any harm.” He nodded over his shoulder. “I saw this cabin and it looked abandoned, so I was hoping to stay here for a night. I didn’t realize anyone was currently occupying it.”

The taller man with dark skin kept his gun pointed at Rush while he responded. “Ironically, we came to make sure no one was occupying it.”

“Oh.” Rush stood his ground. “Well, I can grab my stuff and leave if it’s a problem.”

“What are you doing out here, asshole?” the shorter white guy asked.

Storm stiffened. He didn’t like the attitude of these guys. He lifted his gun and lined it up. If he had to shoot them, he would. He’d rather not make that kind of noise if he could avoid it, but he’d also rather not have Rush injured or killed.

“Just passing through,” Rush responded.

“No one passes through here. It’s the middle of nowhere. Where did you come from?”

“West. I’m heading East. Looking for my brother. Haven’t seen him in two years. I think he’s in Kentucky somewhere.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

Storm stiffened. How was Rush going to explain his presence if the men came inside? He glanced around and noticed there was a rear door. “Fuck,” he grumbled as he eased back toward it. He’d slip outside and keep his gun pointed at these two from the side of the cabin.

“Your brother, huh?” the darker guy said, continuing to inch forward.

“Shit.” Storm hurried out the back of the cabin, grateful that the door didn’t make any noise.

“Yes. He took off with a group of militants. They’re traveling in a pack. Maybe you’ve seen them. Which direction did you come from?”

“We ain’t seen no one,” the white guy responded. “Except for you. And you don’t belong here.”

“He was with militants, you say?” the darker guy asked.

“Yeah. About fifteen of them and two women. They were hoping to find more women.”

Storm was impressed with Rush’s ability to put together a story so quickly. Perhaps he used this one often. He flattened himself to the side of the cabin, listening closely.

“We haven’t been in Kentucky, so we can’t help you. But you should get on out of here. We don’t like anyone stopping in these parts,” the white guy informed him.

---