Read The Journal: Fault Line (The Journal Book 5) Online
Authors: Deborah D. Moore
Tags: #survival, #disaster survival, #disaster, #action, #survivalist, #weather disasters, #preppers, #prepper survival, #prepper survivalist, #post apocalyptic
The Journal: Fault Line (The Journal Book 5)
The Journal
Book Five
Fault Line
Deborah D. Moore
A PERMUTED PRESS BOOK
Published at Smashwords
ISBN: 978-1-68261-116-6
ISBN (eBook): 978-1-68261-117-3
FAULT LINE
The Journal Book 5
© 2016 by Deborah D. Moore
All Rights Reserved
Cover art by Christian Bentulan
This book is a work of fiction. People,
places, events, and situations are the product of the author's
imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
historical events, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without
the written permission of the author and publisher.
Permuted Press
109 International Drive, Suite 300
Franklin, TN 37067
Also in The Journal series:
Cracked Earth (Book One)
Ash Fall (Book Two)
Crimson Skies (Book Three)
Raging Tide (Book Four)
A Prepper’s Cookbook: Twenty Years of Cooking
in the woods,
Coming in Summer 2016!
I must thank my editor, Felicia Sullivan
first. She guided me through the change of style I used in this
book, and hopefully I learned enough to make it easier on her when
she got the final copy.
I could never forget to thank my three beta
readers: my friend Sherry F. (maybe someday we can actually meet);
my brother Tom for his somewhat slanted view on life which matches
my own; and my son Eric, for his youthful view of what could unfold
and for keeping me straight on all things military - and for
getting me into an NG compound so I could climb inside a real
Humvee!
My readers and fans are the best! They have
supported and encouraged me to keep going when I was ready to end
the series and I thank you for that.
And my final thank you is to my publisher,
Michael Wilson at Permuted Press, for his faith in me.
I’ve had many ask about the poems at the
beginning of each book. These are all original poems, written by
me, throughout my life, some going back fifty years. They have all
been written to mark something important in my life, and have
little or no relevance to the story that follows.
We’ve grown, you and I,
In different ways,
On different days,
Isn’t it lonely together?
Deborah D. Moore
This is for everyone who wanted to know what
happened to John.
“I love you too, Daddy,
and I promise to vote in the presidential election on Tuesday
before I go to the seminar,” Christine Tiggs lied, disconnecting
the phone call from her father, John.
She had no intention of voting, she trusted
the government just like it was. She certainly didn’t mind the
weekly calls from her dad, and it wasn’t because he paid most of
her bills. She truly loved him and worried about him. He worked for
a mining employment group, Green Way, and was sent all over the
world. Christine worried because the crew he was foreman of was the
initial force in creating a working mine. What he did was dangerous
and more than once he had been trapped in a cave-in. Currently, he
was working in a remote portion of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
A quick internet search told her
all
of the U.P. was remote,
with nothing but trees and more trees. How could people live like
that? She shuddered.
She was also worried what he would say when
he found out her new job wasn’t quite what she’d led him to
believe. She’d coasted the last six months on unemployment,
enjoying the summer off and having a good time. Those checks had
run out though, and she had to find a job.
John had put Christine through school because
he felt that’s what parents did: prepare their children for the
real world with a good education. She had a degree in public
health, then took a semester of pre-med, finally deciding on a
career as a dental hygienist, and after graduation she had gotten a
nice job at a clinic in Fort Wayne, Indiana. After two years there,
they cut back the staff and she got laid-off. It was a good thing
she was single, since the only other job she could find after those
six months was in Greenwood, near Indianapolis, and she had to
move. What Christine didn’t tell her dad was that the new job,
though in a dental office, was only filling out insurance papers at
half her previous salary. She had hopes that it was just a stepping
stone for her. The good part of being in Greenwood was she was
closer to her grandmother in Louisville, Kentucky.
After staring at the phone another moment,
she frowned and went to her desk to pack her briefcase to be ready
for the morning. The seminar was actually a training session held
by one of the major dental insurance companies on how to fill out
the submission forms. It was sure to be a boring day, and at least
the dental office was picking up the tab. The training was near the
insurance company’s home office in Granite City, east of St. Louis.
It was a five hour drive, plus the following day-long training,
requiring Christine to spend two nights. She’d drive there on
Monday, have classes on Tuesday, drive home on Wednesday. Her heart
lightened thinking she could get some shopping done in the larger
city, on her dad’s credit card.
“Hey, Christine,” Lois Merkel said when
Christine answered her phone. “What time are you picking me up
tomorrow?”
“Oh, hi. How about around ten? It’s a long
drive and we can’t get there too early or the hotel won’t let us
register,” she replied. The dental office was sending two of them
for training and insisted they share a room to keep the expenses
down. Christine wasn’t sure about spending that much time with her
pudgy co-worker. Lois was okay, although her short, spiky, dyed
orange hair and all the tattoos gave Christine the creeps. She ran
her fingers through her recently cut blonde hair. She felt the
shorter cut made her look more sophisticated, although the short,
soft waves would take some getting used to.
***
Christine stopped her silvery blue PT Cruiser
when the hotel came into view. The new car had been a birthday
present from her dad.
“Something wrong?” Lois asked.
“No, the GPS says this is right place. It’s
just a surprise, that’s all.” Christine put the car back in gear
and headed for the parking lot. The large four-story building sat
in the center of a bulldozed block and lacked landscaping. The
surrounding area looked less than appealing with rundown apartment
buildings and shabby storefronts. Across the busy street was the
evidence of a few buildings being constructed, and beyond that were
more rundown buildings of questionable use. They were at the edge
of the city on a main highway and Christine couldn’t see a mall
anywhere.
***
“This looks like a nice place,” Lois
commented, turning a circle in the lobby of the hotel. The vaulted
ceilings bespoke of opulence with the high recessed lighting that
gave a soft glow to the peaches and cream décor and fake greenery.
Her heavy overnight bag dragged on her shoulder and off-balanced
her as she turned back to the desk.
Christine took a deep, steadying breath and
smiled tightly at the reception clerk. The five hour drive had been
nerve wracking: Lois never stopped talking. She signed the register
and took the two key cards, handing one to her co-worker.
“Our room is on the third floor and the
conference room is on the second,” Christine announced as they made
their way to the elevator, glancing at the brochure and floor plan
she was given. “Pool and exercise room is on the main level and so
is the bar/restaurant.”
“Great! I sure could use a beer!” Lois said
gleefully.
“Yeah, I could use a drink myself,” Christine
muttered.
***
The frozen strawberry margarita was just what
Christine needed to deal with Lois’ non-stop chatter. After her
second beer though, Lois quieted down a bit.
“Why don’t we go shopping?” Christine
suggested. “The desk clerk said there’s a nice shopping mall only
six blocks away. We can take their shuttle or walk.”
“Walk? I vote for the shuttle.” Lois grinned.
“I don’t want to lose my buzz by getting some exercise.”