Bo and the Beast (Book #1) (Completed)

1. The Camp

The filtration system on the water purifier had stopped working. Again.

Crouched on her haunches, Bo yanked out the fried coil, smoke curling up from her glove as the heat burned the leather. With a tch, she tossed the useless scrap of metal into a pile of petrified leaves surrounding the lake. A few fluttered into the air and then landed in the tainted water. Bo sighed. Looked like they'd be living on the stored water until her dad got home with the supplies... which should have been a week ago.

Bo stood and kicked the chunky, square machine that used to be their only source of renewable water. It clattered, a few screws popping loose and getting lost in the dirt. She didn't even care at this point. Without a new coil, the purifier was useless anyway.

Giving up on the machine, she slung her powered rifled over her shoulder and bent her path away from the lake. The mahogany stock of her rifle tapped against her leg as she picked her way through the skeletal copse of trees. Dry wind whipped up the dust, swirling it around her at such a clip that the grains whipped her skin pink. The round goggles that covered her brown eyes were the only thing that made it possible to see, and the red bandanna tied tightly over her mouth kept the dust out. Even still, her teeth were grainy and her tongue dry. It had been a very dry summer, and water was used heavily. Without replenishment, the tanks at the back of camp would soon be empty. Baths and washing would have to be suspended.

As Bo came up on the ridge, the camp rose into view. A collection of tents, all the same yellowish brown that blended in with the field they were pitched in. A small wall, made of metal and scraps they had scavenged, kept the wind out, and small dunes of dust had piled into drifts on the outside. A complicated tangle of wires hung suspended over the camp, connected to wooden poles. Electricity. The wires could be traced back to a rusty box about a mile from camp, clipped into the main power lines that crisscrossed the Blast Zone.

In camp, Bo strode to her tent, pushing back the flap and tying it against the pole to let in some of the light. She kicked off her boots, revealing stained socks with holes in them. Her feet ached from standing all day, and Bo sat with a sigh to massage the cramps out.

The illusion of peace was promptly broken by an all-too-familiar voice from the bowels of the tent. "You know, I'm getting real sick of this crap."

Bo's older sister, Felicia, sat rigidly at the folding table at the back of the tent. A bowl of something, most likely rat meat, was pushed to the other end of the table, and Felicia crossed her arms. Bo rolled her eyes as she slid her goggles onto the top of her head, and pulled her bandanna down to dangle around her neck.

"Yeah, well, tell that to the guys who are risking their lives to get even that," Bo said, stretching her back and then slouching in her chair.

Felicia turned in her seat, looking over the back of it so that she could glare directly at Bo. "I know for a fact that there are more animals than just rats out there. I think the guys are just getting lazy because rats are stupid enough to wander into any trap they set up."

"Correct. They aren't going to stay out in the heat and the wind just so they can maybe find an animal that somehow made it past the military's fence and got into the Blast Zone," Bo said, pulling her hair down from its ponytail and raking her fingers through it to dislodge the dust.

Felicia made a disbelieving noise in the back of her throat, and the chair legs scudded across the ground as she stood up and slammed the bowl into the box of dirty dishes. "Did you see Dad's hopper out there?" she said, changing the topic.

Bo perked up, relief bursting in her stomach even though she hadn't realized she was that worried about him until right then. "He's back?" she asked, standing up and sliding her boots back on.