Dying of thirst is the new
reality.
Five years after the last drop of clean
water disappeared, global societies collapsed and nuclear war shattered all
hope of recovery. In a place now only a skeleton of its former self, survivors
fight to avoid capture by the government. Forced to work in factories that
produce the only drinking water available, those who go in, never come
out.
Zach and Vivienne have lived as
deserters since they were teenagers. Fighting amongst their own and scrounging
for the necessities of life, they’ve learned to rely on each other in every
way. Yet when tragedy strikes and the true objectives of the government facility
are revealed, their world is ripped apart. A fate once thought to hold their
demise may be the sole answer to their survival. Who can they trust? Who can
they believe?
In this life, it pays to be
waterproof.
Disclaimer: Waterproof is a new
adult dystopian with sex, violence, and language that may not be suitable for a
younger audience.
Teaser
Vivienne yelled out and I whipped my head
around to see what happened. The last man standing held an impressive hunting
knife in his hand, while Vivienne had a fresh cut on her arm. Still, she held
steady, sword gripped tightly in front of her, legs in a fighting
stance.
Something stirred inside of me at the
sight. Time slowed when I watched her wield the sword like an ancient warrior.
It was hard to imagine that just a few years ago we were in high school
worrying about football games and which party to go to on the weekend. Now we
stayed in abandoned houses, scrounged for water, and spent most of our lives
running. If things had been different, Vivienne and I would be graduating
college this year. I had plans to go into medicine, and she wanted to be a vet.
Funny how those dreams seemed so far away now.
A loud thump echoed through the now
darkened night. She almost fell to the ground with the amount of momentum
needed to decapitate the man. He dropped to his knees like a sinner begging for
mercy, head rolling further down the hill. My stomach fluttered with admiration
and annoyance.
“I didn’t need your help,” I said to her,
getting up on my feet and trying not to wince at my injuries.
“Sure,” she huffed. Ripping her bandana
off her face she tore it in two. “Here, wrap that up.” She nodded toward the
tear in my sleeve and I stubbornly yanked the cloth out of her
hand.
“I had everything under control,” I said
between clenched teeth. It was the only way to mask the pain. “How did you know
where to find me?”
“I followed the girly shrieks,” she said
without missing a beat. I looked down at her in time to see a smirk pull at the
corner of her mouth. “Let me do it.”
Once again, I allowed Vivienne to rescue
me. It killed every part of that male ego inside, but I knew she’d let me do
the same for her. In fact, I had. We always saved each
other.
“Ow,” I said when she tightened the
bandana a little too rough around my arm.
“Stop being a
baby.”
“Stop showing off your man
strength.”
She pulled even tighter but let a small
laugh escape. I sucked in a breath at that sound, realizing how close I’d come
to never hearing it again.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” she asked,
turning me around and patting her hands along my body. I froze, trying to
ignore how comforting her touch felt. We’d been friends for years, and she was
the only person in this world I trusted. Why had I risked so much for this
run?
I stepped away from her, not liking where
my thoughts were headed. “I’m fine,” I mumbled. “Stop mothering
me."
“I wouldn’t have to if you’d listen to
me.” She stopped in front of my face and stared me down. I stood a little over
six feet tall and she was just a few inches shorter. Together with that glare,
almost any man would cower under her. “Was it worth
it?”
“Huh?”
“The water. How much did you
get?"
I hung my head in embarrassment. “I had
eight, but they shot through one. So six, I
guess.”
“Six bottles?” She looked
impressed.
“No, six liters.”
Silence.
“You just made me kill three men for six
liters of water?”
I shuffled my feet. “You only killed
two.”
She reached out so quickly, I couldn’t
defend myself. Both hands pushed against my chest and I stumbled back, falling
to the ground.
“I could make it three,” she hissed. “I
should kill you for your stupidity alone.”
About Amber
Garr
Amber Garr spends her days as a scientist
and nights writing about other worlds. Born in Pennsylvania, she lives in
Maryland with her husband and their furry kids. Her childhood imaginary friend
was a witch, Halloween is sacred, and she is certain that she has a
supernatural sense of smell. Amber is a multiple Royal Palm Literary Award
winner, author of Waterproof, The Syrenka Series, The Leila Marx Novels, and
the upcoming Death Warden Series. When not obsessing over the unknown, she can
be found dancing, reading, or enjoying a good movie.
.jpg)
.jpg)
