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That wasn’t part of the plan. Though it had gone against his training, he’d been forced to rely on Luther. He’d known better than to trust an informant. And yet, he’d had no choice.
Wait. This is going to make me mad if Luther turned. Nah… can't be.
“Redding, please personally escort Luther’s father from Fall Creek once we’re in. We’ll ensure that he receives the best medical care available.
“You thought I wouldn’t suspect a trap? All men can be bought. This one just needed a few oxygen tanks.”
Come on now. This has to be another trap.
“We’re at war. World War III. It’s been going on for months, and no one has any idea.”
“China and Russia conspired against us.
The President declared martial law and seized federal control of all networks, cell towers, radio—everything. The feds realized that without nationwide communication, social media, or even functioning news outlets, they could keep things under wraps.
“You will be held accountable for every evil that you’ve committed.” Liam thought of Bishop. “In this world or the next.”
Hannah said, “I’m proud of you.” A flurry of emotions crossed Quinn’s face. She raised her chin and flashed a strained smile.
Before she’d left, she asked the question she’d dreaded speaking aloud: “If I don’t return, will you…will you take my kids? Will you keep them safe?” Evelyn had gripped her bad hand in both of hers. “We will defend them with our own lives.”
“What? You didn’t think I’d let you go alone, did you?” “It’s dangerous—” “Damn straight. Which is why I’m coming. Us girls need to stick together.”
Perez drew her pistol, did a quick check, and rested it against her thigh. “I’m shooting anything that moves. You just drive.”
he maneuvered his bound hands to his lower right side and gingerly peeled the medical tape from the bandage over his ribs.
his fingers searched for the object he’d hidden within the bandage earlier that night—Reynoso’s handcuff key.
Luther had known about the key sewn into Liam’s sock. The handcuff ploy was part of the plan. Luther’s betrayal was not.
I think Luther is still on the right side. I hope.
Gibbs had reported that many of the National Guard had balked at engaging noncombatants.
“You will obey—!” General Byron Sinclair never finished his sentence. Liam Coleman exploded into motion. The General’s brain barely registered that the prisoner’s hands were no longer bound. The pistol was struck from his startled grip. Before his bodyguards could react, Liam pounced upon him. A glint of something small and pointed streaked toward his face. A blur of sharpened steel.
There we go. Cocky sucker. Thought he was something.
His last coherent thought was one of astonishment. That this could be happening to him. That he wouldn’t get to finish his magnum opus. That he, too, was made of flesh and blood and bone. And then darkness claimed him.
Behind Gibbs, Luther spun toward the door, Liam’s M4 in his hands. He’d shot Gibbs in the back.
That's right! Luther come through! Yeeeeesss!
He came up on his knees and pointed the weapon at Luther. “You betrayed me!”
Liam. Really?
“Gibbs suspected me, sniffed a trap. One of their guys searched you after I did. I knew they would. They were just waiting for me to trip up. I had to do it, act like I was playing both sides for the General.”
“I left you the tactical pen, didn’t I? No one bothered to inspect it, but I knew what it was. You’re special forces. I had a hunch you had a back-up plan. That you could figure it out.” Liam stepped back, breathing hard. “A lot riding on a hunch.”
“I got everyone out of the room to give you a shot. I had Baxter contact the General’s people in Lansing, to get the Secretary of State to call him. That was me!” “You signed your own death warrant. We’re trapped.” “We’ll find a way,” Luther said.
“I’m going to get you out of here. For Hannah.”
Luther wasn’t a snitch. Things had gone sideways—as they always did. He’d made the best of it.
The foxhole was dug about four feet deep and eight feet wide, large enough for four fighters. Jonas was positioned to her left. She liked him near her. They made an excellent team.
They were being fired upon from at least two directions. Maybe three— Pop! Pop! A sharp pain in his spine. His legs turned to water. He sagged, flopping against the fridge like a fish out of water.
“I’ll cover you! Go!” But Liam couldn’t go. His legs would not work. He couldn’t stand, couldn’t move. Couldn’t feel anything from his waist down. Numbness spread like white fire. “Liam!” Luther cried. With one hand, Liam fumbled at his back. Warm, sticky liquid smeared his fingers.
No! I swear. He bet not die.
Luther slumped facedown across the counter. Still standing—only because the countertop bore the weight of his listless upper half.
Liam turned to Luther. He didn’t have the strength to turn him over. He didn’t have to. The gruesome exit wounds gaping from his lower back told the grim story. James Luther was dead.
Noooo! That sucks.
“This is Major Charlie Hamilton with the United States Army. Do not fire upon us. I repeat, we’re friendlies! We’re coming up on your six. I repeat, stand down!”
Yes! Here come the cavalry!
You stood when it was time to stand and you fought when it was time to fight. You were scared to death, but you showed up.
Through the swirling smoke and dust a figure appears, almost recognizable through the soot and grime on his face, his blond hair gray with dust, his eyes still so blue. A flash of white teeth as he smiles. Shell-shocked but moving, on his feet. You know him, this boy. Your friend. Maybe more than that. Coming toward you. Coming to find you. To bring you back.
Awwwww!!!!! My heart!
One tall, bulky, and black; the other short, broad, and Hispanic. The two prettiest men he’d ever seen.
Ain't they beautiful.
“Leave no one behind,” Bishop said. “You still don’t get it, you stubborn ass. You don’t have to carry this burden alone, brother. You never did.”
Liam blinked blearily. “I think I—love you.” “You hear that?” Bishop said. “He loves us.” Reynoso smirked. “You’re never gonna live that down, Coleman.” Through the tremendous pain, Liam felt his lips twitch into a semblance of a smile. They’d come for him. His people. His brothers. He’d thought he understood it, but it was only now that he truly did. All this time, he’d shouldered the burden alone when he didn’t have to. He was no longer a man apart. He wasn’t alone. He never had been.
Liam was alive. Alive, but crippled. The shrapnel had clipped his spinal cord. He was numb from the waist down. Couldn’t feel a thing. Not his toes, not his shins or knees or anything else. His spine busted, his legs ruined.
“Am I paralyzed?” he asked, just wanting the truth. “I can’t answer that,” Evelyn said. “It could be spinal shock or transient paralysis. Inflammation can put enormous pressure on your spinal cord. If it’s temporary, it could last for a few hours or a few weeks. Or…” “Or it’s permanent.”
he’d finally suffered the consequences of his actions.
He’d learned his lesson the hard way, but he’d learned. Letting people in didn’t make you weak; it made you stronger. Even amid the worst of his suffering, he found comfort in their presence. Hannah and Charlotte, L.J. and Milo. Quinn, Bishop, and Ghost. Travis and Evelyn. Reynoso and Perez. His people. His family.
It had been six days with no feeling, no movement, no nothing.
“I love you, Liam Coleman. I love everything that you are. Everything. I accept it all.”
“Me either. But she’s got great taste in leadership.” He halted at the foot of Liam’s cot, a broad grin splitting his face, and gave a sweeping bow from the waist. “You’re looking at the newly-promoted Lieutenant Colonel and Michigan Task Force Executive Officer.”
On day eight, the pain returned with a vengeance. Like a thousand needles puncturing his flesh. Molten lava poured into his spine. An ice pick hammered through each vertebra. On day nine, he could twitch his toes. On day ten, he could move his ankles. On day eleven, he could hobble out of bed with the aid of a cane—Molly’s cane.
Yaaaaay! I love it! And Molly's cane!!!!!! Awwww!
She told him how Fall Creek had been saved, how his son had redeemed himself in the end, sacrificing his life for Liam’s. James Luther had died a hero.
Yes he did!
James Luther was included among their number.
The waiting list was long, but Hamilton had promised to get Liam on the list to honor his sacrifice for the greater good. He would work on obtaining a slot for Milo to get more meds, too.
“Here.” Quinn held several packages in her arms, wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper and held together with tiny strips of duct tape.
She finished her portraits?! I can't take it.
Inside a simple wooden frame was an exquisitely rendered charcoal drawing of Milo’s father.
My heart is in my throat.
“I told Quinn I would share you,” he whispered into her scalp, his breath hot on her ear. “You can be Mom to all three of us, right?” A pang struck her. A mix of sadness and joy and fierce pride. “That’s a great idea.” “Can I tell her we’ve adopted her?” “Of course. I think you’ll make a fantastic little brother.”
As the King’s crooning voice filled the clearing, Jonas rose and walked across the grass through the ring of camping chairs, toward Quinn and Milo. His face bright red, he tapped Milo on the shoulder. “May I cut in and have a turn with the lady?” “Lady?” Quinn sputtered. “What lady?” Milo stepped back with a gallant flourish. “Of course, good sir!” Flustered, Quinn’s gaze darted from Jonas to Milo to Jonas. “What are you doing?” Jonas grinned from ear to ear. “May I have this dance?”
