Dying for Rain (The Rain Trilog - BB Easton Page 0,11

the King Burger combo meal, it now says, Natural selection is the king’s way! with a digital slideshow of all their combo selections below.

The sign disgusts me so much it makes my stomach turn. A wave of nausea brings me to a halt, and I barely manage to pull my hair away from my face before I buckle at the waist and puke on the side of the road. Once the last heave leaves me, I prop my forearm on the wrecked minivan next to me and drop my forehead onto it. As the hurricane in my stomach dies down, I open my eyes and glance at the woman reflected in the tinted glass.

“You’re pregnant,” she whispers to me again.

“I know that,” I snap back.

Pushing away from the burgundy van, I continue walking, but this time with a destination in mind.

The closer I get to Burger Palace, the louder the sounds of civilization become. Cars stretch down the street in the oncoming lane, waiting to pull in to the parking lot. Toddlers tantrum and mothers yell and grown men curse at each other from their driver’s seats as they jockey for position and cut each other off in line.

In front of Burger Palace, walking up and down the side of the highway, are street vendors pandering to the captive audience.

“AK-47 for sale! Perfect condition! Only fired once!”

“Spare change? I gotta feed my babies, y’all! Spare change?”

“Hydro! Oxy! Adderall! Viagra! No prescription necessary!”

“You fellas like to party? Fifty bucks each. Seventy-five if it’s at the same time.”

I flip my hood up and stick to the opposite side of the road. Cars and trucks and four-wheelers and even a few tractors pass me as they pull out of Burger Palace, but nobody stops.

They can tell I’ve got nothing left to offer.

I walk past the hollowed-out shell of the old library and inhale the scent of scorched books.

I walk past Shartwell Park, careful not to step on any used hypodermic needles.

And finally, once the sun has risen above the tree line and the sweat has begun to trickle down my back, I see it.

Fuckabee Foods.

The nausea returns full force as I look across the nearly empty parking lot and remember what happened here just a few weeks ago. The three thugs who died right outside those sliding glass doors—one from overdosing on the pills Wes had given him to pay our way inside, the other two from a spray of bullets.

Fired by me.

Even though the few businesses that haven’t been looted or torched are up and running again, I knew better than to expect Huckabee Foods to be one of them. The redneck mafia of Franklin Springs would rather burn this place to the ground than relinquish control. Which is why I’m not at all surprised to see a new red-bandana-wearing, facial-tattoo-sporting, machine-gun-carrying asshole sitting in a lawn chair outside.

The sight of those guys used to make me want to turn and run in the opposite direction, but that was back when I still cared about what happened to me.

Now all I care about is getting what I need and getting the hell out of here.

I pull the gun out of the back of my jeans and approach the front door with it pointed toward the ground.

Captain No-Neck looks up from his cell phone and does a double take when he sees me.

“Daaaamn, girl. That sassy walk you got is makin’ my dick hard. Come on over here and give me some sugar.” He spreads his legs and rubs the crotch of his pants. “I’ll make it worth ya while.”

I feel my heart begin to race as I stop about fifty feet away. From here, I can see that the glass in the sliding door has been replaced with a blue tarp, and there’s still a red stain on the cement in front of it.

“Here’s how this is gonna work,” I say, trying to keep my voice as steady as possible. “You’re gonna go inside and get me all the prenatal vitamins you can find, plus some canned fruits and veggies and soup with meat in it. It’s gotta have meat. When you come back out, there’ll be a hundred-dollar bill tucked underneath the windshield wiper of that blue Toyota.” I tip my head in the direction of the car closest to him. “You take the money and leave the groceries, and nobody gets hurt.”

The guard snorts through his nose before erupting into full-blown laughter. “Homegirl, the only thing that’s gonna get hurt