More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Four soldiers guarded the entrance, separated into two-man teams. There likely wouldn’t be anyone inside, just the sentries outside along the perimeter. Three males and one female. Two were armed with M60 machine guns and wore body armor with ceramic plates. The soldiers looked grim, bored, and miserable. Their posture lax, shoulders drooping. The lack of electricity was taking its toll. The hunger. Constant discomfort and sleep deprivation. Separation from friends and family. They were soldiers, but they weren’t battle-hardened special operators. Many were probably torn between their duty to
...more
Liam, Bishop, and Reynoso exchanged tense glances. Liam’s heart rate slowed; his breathing steadied. He was in the zone. This was it. They would only get this one chance to strike first. They’d better make it count. Five minutes later, it was go time.
“Alpha Team One, this is Team Three,” Perez said over Liam’s radio. “We nailed the ammo dump. Blew it sky-high! We even got a few party favors. I’m bringing them to you now. We’re in a five-ton truck filled with ordnance—whatever you do, don’t shoot us!” Bishop and Reynoso ran in, disarmed the fallen soldiers, and zip-tied their hands and feet before relieving them of their weapons and ammo.
No sooner had they incapacitated the sentries than Perez came roaring around the corner in the stolen 5 x 5, otherwise known as an M923 military cargo truck. Her team had obtained cases of grenades, 7.62 and 5.56 ammunition, and one gorgeous .50 caliber M2.
He wound through the garage to the open top floor before he reached the long rows of military vehicles. Most of the trucks were packed with supplies. This was a temporary staging area. The General had likely set his sights on Winter Haven. Not today. Not tomorrow, either. Not if Liam had anything to say about it. He got to work. He drove past each parked Humvee and lightweight tactical all-terrain vehicle and pitched white phosphorus grenades like candy at a parade.
The vehicles and their contents were rendered unusable. He hated to destroy valuable supplies, but they had no way to capture it for themselves.
“Our ammo, fuel, and transport supplies were attacked, sir. Five transports filled with supplies. Fourteen Humvees destroyed. Half of our ammo supply blown to bits.” The General whipped around. Anger flared through him like an electrical current. “How did you let this happen?” Gibbs didn’t flinch. “The fire was a distraction. They had men in wait to ambush the soldiers and draw our attention while they came after our logistics. The guardsmen were hit with flashbangs and knocked unconscious. The assault teams were too fast. By the time we sent a second reaction force, they were gone.”
“But judiciously. We must limit our use of artillery and mortars. We need to protect Winter Haven. The solar panels, the greenhouses, and the planted fields. When we take over, we’ll use those resources.” “And the people?” “Other than my great-granddaughter, I couldn’t care less if they were all slaughtered. But bring Liam Coleman to me. I want to eliminate him personally.” He didn’t consider the consequences of unleashing the U.S. military on a town of American citizens. He was in charge, now. The governor had given him the authority to make unilateral decisions. Which he damned well would.
...more
At 2200 hours, he’d relieved Perez of scout duty and offered to take Mike Duncan’s shift as well. He wanted to verify a few weapons caches he’d buried several weeks ago. Mainly though, he needed to ensure he was in range of Luther’s radio at their prescribed check-in time of 2300 hours. The ruined repeaters had thrown a considerable wrench in his plans. It had been three days since he’d heard anything from his spy. Whether Luther was still his asset or had gone rogue was a massive unknown.
A rustle as a pair of rats scurried across the road. Their beady eyes glowed, their fur bristling along their hunched backs. Vermin. They multiplied faster than the corpses could pile up. Dead bodies brought the rats. Rats brought diseases. Since they disposed of corpses immediately and regularly checked houses—both occupied and vacant—Fall Creek had remained relatively unscathed. Outside Fall Creek, it was another story.
His thoughts strayed to Hannah. He had little use for humanity. A few people made the whole thing worth it. And for those people, he would willingly sacrifice everything he had, including his life. For little Charlotte and L.J. For Travis and Evelyn. Quinn, Milo, and Molly. But first, last, and always—Hannah.
“I am sorry,” Luther said. “Truly, I am.” “Be very careful before you make me an enemy.” “I’ve already caused great harm to Hannah Sheridan’s family. I am incredibly aware of that fact.” “Are you?” “Yes! I wouldn’t do anything to hurt them, I swear to you. I nearly killed her son, okay? The whole reason I’m out here is to…I don’t know, make up for it or something. Certainly not to put her in further danger. I wouldn’t do that. I didn’t. Not intentionally. I swear it.” He sounded remorseful. Liam recalled a comment Quinn had made about Luther: a polite killer was still a killer. She’d made a
...more
“It’s going to take time to get into his good graces,” Luther whined. “I’m trying to befriend a man named Baxter. He’s on the inside. He’s not a soldier. If anyone has a conscience among them, or at least a loose tongue—”
People streamed into the school. By fives and tens, then more and more. The security teams took up their positions on the roof of the school and hid themselves in fortified windows and doorways. She should be with them. But she couldn’t, not until she found Gran.
Blind panic gripped Quinn. Gran wasn’t moving fast enough. She wouldn’t make it. The helicopter roared closer. Rotors beat the air. The engines growled like a living creature. A predator on the hunt.
Gran had slowed to a shuffle. Her back bent almost double. Without her cane, the toddler’s weight was too much for her old bones. Quinn held out her hands. “Let me take him!” Gran thrust the child into her arms. His name was Joey. He carried a blue stuffed bunny everywhere, but he didn’t have it now. Maybe that explained his screaming. He was heavy and squirming. His hands and face were sticky with snot and tears. The cuts on her hand stung so badly, she nearly dropped him.
“Not without Gran!” she screamed. “But Quinn, she’s—” Quinn didn’t want to listen anymore. Didn’t want to hear what he had to say. The thing she feared in the deepest recesses of her soul. “No!” She turned, her legs unsteady, and made her way around the delivery truck. Gaping holes punctured the sides and rear, holes that hadn’t been there two minutes ago. Dread curdled her stomach, her guts turning to water. Two yards away, a shape lay in the middle of the road. Small and gray. A listless lump shrouded in dust and debris. Gran’s cane rested beside it. “Gran!” Quinn collapsed on her knees
...more
Quinn’s eyes burned. Tears seared her cheeks. “Truth be told…thought I’d go out…in a blaze of glory.” Gran coughed up blood. A fine mist sprayed Quinn’s cheek. “Not like…this.” “Don’t talk, Gran. Save your strength.” “And here I had an amazing death speech all planned out…but I’m so tired…just tired.” “No, Gran,” Quinn whimpered. “Please, no.” Gran stretched out a trembling hand and attempted to wipe the blood away. It smeared Quinn’s face. She didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Gran. “Don’t die on me.” “You just remember…remember…” Quinn wrapped her hand over Gran’s—weak and
...more
The screaming would not end. It just went on and on until she understood that the scream was inside her own brain and still it would not stop. Not Gran, not Gran. This had to be another nightmare. It couldn’t be real. But it was real. It was real and Gran was gone. The last of her family dead, and Quinn never even said I love you.
Hannah’s voice in her ear, the only thing she could hear over her own stricken screams. “I have you, Quinn. I’ve got you. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Jonas was there, too. He’d never left. Quinn collapsed into them both, allowed those arms to pull her up, to hold her, carrying her to safety.
Along with the M60s and the Browning M2, Perez had managed to steal a single M72 Light Anti-Tank Weapon, or LAW, from the General. A LAW was simple to use—aim and shoot, no guidance systems required. The shoulder-fired missile weapon launched a rocket equipped with an explosive warhead. It was a single-use weapon. They had one shot.
From their fortified positions within town hall, Perez’s team opened up with their two M60s. Belt-fed machine gunfire splintered the air. Every muscle taut, Liam waited. Fear wrenched through him. Not for himself, but for Hannah and Quinn and everyone else. Hot anger underscored his panic. He would kill the General for this. He pushed it all down, put it in a box. He had to maintain absolute focus to end this threat.
Liam settled the LAW against his shoulder, adjusted his footing, and stepped out from the trees to better sight the helo. To have a snowball’s chance in hell, he needed it close. The maximum range was one thousand meters, but in reality, anything further than a couple hundred meters for a moving target halved his odds of a direct hit. A Black Hawk featured a missile detection system and chaff as a radar countermeasure, but if it flew low enough, a rocket could hit them before they could conduct evasive maneuvers.
The missile screamed through the air and struck the Black Hawk’s tail. Shrapnel tore into the spinning rotors. The helo lurched as smoke boiled out from the engine. Panicked, the pilot cranked the throttle and the powerful bird jolted skyward. Too late. The great machine careened sideways, unleashing a terrible metallic screeching. It churned into a violent spin. The rotors thundered as it whirled crazily, then plummeted from the sky.
The two fuel tanks ruptured on impact. The helicopter ignited in a fireball. Flames surged forty feet high as black smoke poured from the wreckage.
No movement inside the fiery inferno. No survivors. Liam felt little relief—and zero pleasure. He didn’t relish killing soldiers, but they’d fired on his people. For that, they’d signed their own death warrants. General Sinclair had forced his hand. Liam hated him for it. Still, he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. “Alpha One, this is Delta Two,” Reynoso said over the radio. “What the hell happened?” Liam raised the radio to his lips. “Black Hawk down.”
“Only what I had to do,” the General said smoothly, trying and failing to hide the smile in his voice. “You’re the one who drove me to it. In a way, you’ve brought this upon yourself. If only you’d trusted me. None of this would be happening.” “I feel…sick.” “What you are experiencing is acute arsenic poisoning. It is colorless, odorless, and tasteless, which means you would not have noticed it in your drink. I hope you enjoyed every drop of that cognac. While that particular bottle cost me dearly, I consider the after-effects absolutely priceless.” “You—you—” Henry Duffield croaked. Another
...more
“You are probably thinking—but can no longer say—that I won’t get away with this. The thing is, I will. Few autopsies are taking place right now. The Collapse has strained local, state, and federal resources beyond the breaking point. You understand. There are some benefits to a nationwide—nay, worldwide—crisis. “It will appear that you had a heart attack. For those who are aware of your unhealthy addictions, this will not come as a surprise. In fact, a stash of these pills will be discovered in your desk drawer.” Rattling, choking gasps escaped the sat phone speaker. The governor moaned. The
...more
The loss of the Black Hawk was painful and infuriating, but it had done its work. At this point, the townspeople would be turning on each other, consumed by terror and infighting, on the verge of panicked surrender. His soldiers were hungry. Supplies were low. It didn’t matter. They would fight when the General told them to fight. Even with the ordnance and transportation Liam Coleman had destroyed, they had enough. Five hundred soldiers. Enough bullets for every citizen in Fall Creek.
Whatever had failed in Rosamond wouldn’t fail again. He would make sure of it. This child would be different. She would take his name. She would be his own. The woman who gave birth to her would mean nothing. The girl would be a Sinclair, through and through. It would take time, but she would outlive him, she would carry on his legacy and see that his name—their name—lived on. No one would remember a dead governor. They would remember the Sinclairs. This was how dynasties began.
The townspeople remained in the bomb shelter overnight. Shell-shocked and numb. Though Liam and Bishop had eliminated the Black Hawk, they were too frightened to leave, even after the security teams assured them no secondary attack was imminent.
everywhere. Winter Haven’s precious electricity gone—maybe for good. Eleven townspeople dead. Four gravely injured. Quinn knew their names, but the impact of their loss barely registered.
The house was chilly; the flames in the woodstove reduced to ashes. Five cats rushed her with aggrieved yowls, winding around her ankles, gazing up at her with doleful feline expressions. Even Hel, Ruler of the Underworld, who seldom left her perch atop the fridge. The stench of cat piss assaulted her nostrils. The cats had been inside since yesterday morning. No food, no kitty litter. They’d held it as long as they could, then used the back doormat in the kitchen.
Maybe he expected Gran to come barreling in, waving her cane, shouting that she was gonna skin him alive if he didn’t get his ugly butt off the table. Quinn didn’t yell. She didn’t do anything. Loki stayed on the table. Thor and Odin wandered the house, meowing plaintively, searching for their mistress. They sensed something was off. “She’s not here,” she said, barbed wire in her throat.
She’d take care of the clothes later. Maybe she’d bury them. Or burn them. She would never wear them again.
Quinn’s own mother had abandoned her, betrayed her, failed to love her—but Gran never had. Not for one second. Gran had been tough and stern, not given to bouts of affection or sentimentality, but Quinn had never doubted that Gran loved her. Never, not once. And how many times had Quinn told Gran how much she meant to her? She didn’t know, couldn’t remember. That seemed like the worst kind of failure.
They used to lay like this in the days and nights after the massacre, when the nightmares invaded and all they had was each other. How they’d clung to each other, then. Milo had needed her so desperately. The truth was, she’d needed him. He’d brought her back to herself. She’d forgotten that. Forgotten how love was a two-way street and people couldn’t help you if you didn’t let them in, if you didn’t let them come into your messy ugly places and love you back to life.
This hole in her heart was too big for her, but together, together they shared it. And somewhere deep inside, she understood that it was enough. It would be enough. This time, she didn’t run from it. She felt it all, let the pain roll through her in waves. She wept and Milo held her, and after a while, the waves of sadness relented, rolled back a little. Her tears dried, the great hiccupping sobs subsiding.
“We can share,” Milo said. “What do you mean?” “You need a family, but you don’t have one. I’ll share mine with you. Then we can be brother and sister, for real.” “You really want that?” He snuggled into her neck. His mop of unruly curls tickled her cheeks. “More than Christmas. More than peanut butter.” It was several moments before she trusted her voice enough to speak. Her broken heart pulsed with affection and sadness, love and sorrow. It was almost too much to bear. Damn, but she loved this kid.
Fall Creek had eliminated the threat of the Black Hawk, but at great cost. The town was once again reeling, left to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t over yet.
Liam sat on Hannah’s sofa with Charlotte. She smelled clean, of baking soda and lotion. He bobbed his knee and Charlotte giggled, the sound as pure and rich as ringing bells. Rain drummed the roof. The wind scoured the corners of the house and rattled the tree branches. Inside, the fire crackled in the living room fireplace. Candles placed around the room scented the air with vanilla and lavender. Ghost sprawled before the fireplace, panting like he’d spent the day running a marathon, not dozing.
She wrapped her tiny fingers around one thumb, then the other, and looked up at him with wide bright eyes. Her face alight, her whole being radiated joy. His heart clenched and expanded all in one breath. If she was safe to grow up, then he’d done his job. If he saved her and her mother. No matter what happened to him. That would be enough.
“I wish I could go back and change things. I could have stopped it, saved them—” “It’s not your fault. It’s the General who did this,” she said fiercely. “He’s the one who needs to pay.” Emotion thickened his throat. “I know.” Hannah was quiet for a minute. The fire popped and sparked. “She died saving Quinn, saving that little boy.” “I wouldn’t expect anything less of her,” Liam said gruffly.
From Molly’s stash of survival books, Hannah had learned about effective natural remedies used for thousands of years. She wrote it all down in her notebook and copied pertinent information for Evelyn and Lee.
“They’re planning to attack at dawn.” It didn’t matter how much he’d been expecting it. The news struck him like a blow to the solar plexus. “They’re bringing in everything. The armored vehicles and the M2s. They have mortars and artillery, Liam. He’s sending in a simultaneous tactical team to get the baby. After he obtains the target, the General wants the town destroyed. He is unconcerned with civilian casualties.”
“I found some wine from the Tabor Hill Winery in Stevensville for Baxter to give to the General. I saved another bottle to share with him. He was grateful. Got him drunk enough to loosen his tongue a little. Liam, the General and Poe are on the same side.” “What?” “The General siphoned off supplies and resources for Poe all along. He gave him access to National Guard armories, caches to raid, the whole thing. That’s how Poe got so powerful so fast.”
Without the General’s vendetta, the National Guard had little reason to attack Fall Creek. Maybe they would’ve wanted Winter Haven—but without the community’s solar power, it held little value. Get rid of the General, and Lansing would send someone else, someone who didn’t give a damn about this town, or Charlotte. This started and ended with General Sinclair. Take him out and Fall Creek would have a chance. Hannah would have a chance.
The General wanted Liam. He wanted to kill Liam himself, with his own hands. Which meant he would need to get close. Face-to-face close. Perhaps, close enough to kill. Doubt and uncertainty needled him. It was a significant risk. The chances of success were slim. The odds of survival non-existent. Even if Liam could get his hands on the General, he couldn’t fight off the mercenaries who’d unleash hell in revenge. He didn’t have to. Getting out wasn’t the important part. Only getting in.
Ironically, he had never valued his life as much as he did now. He wanted this life, flawed but beautiful. He wanted to carve out a place in this world with Hannah at the beating center of it. Only now did he fully understand what he must lose to save them.
It was time to go. Liam had thought out every contingency and back-up plan, every move and countermove until it solidified in his mind. He was prepared for a one-man war. Ghost was on his feet, watching him intently with those intelligent brown eyes, ears pricked. He knew something was about to happen. Liam scratched his floppy ears and rubbed beneath his muzzle. “Take care of them for me.”
