Chapter 378

The dust from the desert storm had clogged the engine, leaving the SUV stranded miles from civilization. Bran had trudged the remaining distance, his boots kicking up the parched earth with every weary step.

The old man had given him a pistol and some first-aid supplies, but he'd been ambushed by a gang along the way. Bran had fought tooth and nail to keep them at bay, but over the months, even the half of the supplies he'd managed to protect had dwindled to nothing. Now, he was more destitute than a beggar, his stomach growling like an angry dog for want of a decent meal.

So, Bran swallowed his pride. "Sis, just put it on my tab, okay? I'll pay you back, with interest."

He wondered if the old man had settled down in Goldbridge or had met with disaster amidst volcanic eruptions or another dust storm. It had been too long without a word.

But worry was a luxury he couldn't afford not when his own survival was at stake, and he was nowhere near Goldbridge or Griffith.

Stella didn't want to make a fuss. "Sure, just remember the interest," she said, with a half-hearted attempt at sternness.

They had to keep scavenging, and time spent on Bran was time wasted. They gave him a crash course-a last-minute cramming session, as they called it.

Turns out, there were tricks to passing the military fitness tests.

Most civilians were clueless, but Jasper had once been in the service. He knew exactly what the Kindle Society would be testing for.

After a hearty meal, Bran received emergency training in both intellect and combat.

Stella didn't intervene; instead, she took Rosie and Cooper upstairs.

Hours later, they finally sent Bran on his way, his arms laden with provisions.

how different he'd looked years back at the posh neighborhood meetups: Hawaiian shirts, capri pants, sparkling diamond-studded sandals, and that

way of reminding

since

missed Buddy. Whether man or beast, the sudden sting

make Cooper sadder-and murmured that

came upstairs, and Stella handed him a glass of warm water, saying,

no time, and his adaptability is impressive. His combat skills need polish, but I've taught him how to break down and respond to likely moves. He's sharp.

think he was

in a bad

stubborn. Asking for help outright would be like asking him to lay

Stella felt a pang of frustration.

thoughts, grinning as he said, "Like you said, if it's not meant to be his, it won't stay with him. You've done right

plates

Disaster wouldn't wait for a convenient moment. They needed a submarine,

deal, Stella had discovered a network of

traders were scavengers who exploited their points to buy necessities

to braving the wastelands, and over time, more and more had joined the trade. Of course, it was

the idea-goods changing hands among traders, tracking origins would be

threat of cataclysm, the military needed those metals for escape tools. Priorities would dictate their actions. And if worse came to worst, they'd have the submarine ready

with her plan-to secure the submarine

more time,

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