SMALL TOWN EMP

Survive the Chaos

Survive the Aftermath

Survive the Conflict

Survive the Unrest

Survive the Trap

Survive the Turmoil

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, JUNE 2025

Copyright © 2025 Relay Publishing Ltd.

All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Grace Hamilton is a pen name created by Relay Publishing for co-authored Post-Apocalyptic projects. Relay Publishing works with incredible teams of writers and editors to collaboratively create the very best stories for our readers.

Cover Design by Deranged Doctor.

www.relaypub.com

BLURB

In the battle for survival, one family makes its final stand…

In the wake of a devastating EMP attack, Austin and Amanda lead a desperate search for sanctuary. When the tiny plane flying them to Seattle is forced to make an emergency landing, they find themselves stranded with their family at a tiny mountain airstrip, miles from their destination. And they’re not alone…

Lydia Koble’s shadow stretches even into the remote Washington wilderness. When a truck full of armed militia pulls up, Austin and Amanda fear the worst. But it’s not Koble’s forces who have captured them. They're an unknown force—one that could be friend or foe. As Koble’s grip tightens on the surrounding area, more people rise up against her. An armed rebel force has built a base in the mountains—and Austin, Amanda, and the kids have strayed into their territory.

Austin never wanted to fight in a rebellion. He just wants to keep his family safe. But sometimes “safe” isn’t enough.

Sometimes you have to fight to survive…

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

End of Survive the Turmoil

Thank you

Make an Author’s Day

About Grace Hamilton

Sneak Peek: After the Fallout

Also By Grace Hamilton

Want more?

1

“Are we going down?” Andy asked. “We are, aren’t we?”

The boy was still clutching the two dogs, both of them now barking like crazy. For a ten-year-old, the kid had become remarkably resilient. He even asked these desperate questions in a measured way that made it hard to be anything other than honest.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Austin insisted.

Amanda looked at him, the man she loved, and saw the ever-present hope in his eyes. Or it might have been shock. Either way, it wouldn’t fix the plane. It wouldn’t make a crash any less final.

She gripped the edges of her seat, wishing for all her life that she was the one in the cockpit and in the pilot’s seat. In a situation like this, even as their altitude dropped and the panic rose, there would have been something comforting about having her own hands on the controls. But then she realized how similar the Piper was to the Ag Cat crop duster she’d crashed a little over a year before, when the EMP had first struck.

That sobering memory took all comfort out of the idea of steering her own fate so far above the ground.

“I think I can take us down safely!” Connor called. “It’s the fuel injector. Sometimes if the volume balance is off in these RSA-type systems, the whole thing locks up.”

Doubt bubbled up in her at why they’d trusted the plane, had trusted Novak’s man. Then it passed. They’d made an informed decision, and Connor’s life hung in the balance just the same as theirs did. He’d do his best to get them out, and if he couldn’t, nobody else would’ve had a better shot at it.

“Just relax,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.

“Relax?” Malachi said, his eyes wide with fear. “How can we re—”

Savannah put a hand on his knee, and he held his tongue. Amanda found herself holding a smile at bay, which was ridiculous, given the situation. But if it was to be the end, at least they were with those they loved, which was saying a lot after all they had sacrificed to make it to this point together. Family had been lost along the way, for all of them in some way or another, but now they had each other. If they were to go out, at least they’d be going out together.

There were certainly worse ways to go.

“We’re gonna make it, Malachi,” she said. “Just hold on.”

There was a new whining sound—air rushing ever faster through the air filters as they dipped a few degrees lower.

“Where are you trying for?” Amanda called.

“There’s an airstrip,” Connor said, “in the Cascades.”

“The mountains?” Austin asked.

“That’s right,” Connor said, tapping at the analog dials to ensure they were reading accurately. “It’s gonna be hairy no matter what, but we’re gonna make it.”

“Can you see it?” Amanda asked, moving to get out of her seat.

“I wouldn’t do that, miss,” Connor said. “We’re still in for a bit of turb—”

The plane was thrown violently left, and Amanda rocked back into her seat.

“But yes,” Connor continued. “I’m looking at it right now, and we’ve still got eight thousand feet.”

“That doesn’t sound like that much!” Malachi said.

“It’ll be all right,” Connor said.

The low scream of the engine became ragged, and the plane began to veer on its course.

“What just happened?” Malachi asked.

“Engine’s struggling,” Amanda said.

“What?” Andy called.

“Connor—”

“Even if the engine cuts, we can glide,” Connor called. “We can glide for—well, for until we land.”

“Is he serious?” Malachi asked.

“Malachi, calm down,” Amanda said. “He’s already got somewhere to land, which would have been the biggest problem.”

“Amanda,” Malachi said, “you were in the Air Force. Why don’t you just land this thing?”

“Air Force, huh?” Connor called.

“I was,” Amanda said. “But I didn’t fly. Malachi, just let the man do his job.”

Besides, they’d placed their trust in Novak’s man, and now they had to see it through. About that she was sure, but if one thing might’ve swayed her, it was Andy’s face.

She held out a hand to the boy. He took it and held on tightly across the aisle between the seats, and that’s when Amanda felt her stomach drop. The boy’s hand was cold.

“Parachutes?” she asked. “Connor, can we bail out?”

“No ’chutes,” he said, “so you’re welcome to try, but I don’t recommend it!”

Amanda rolled her eyes and caught a vindicated look from Malachi. That was when the sound of the laboring engine cut away entirely, and their steadily downward course became eerily quiet.

Connor cursed several times, trying the ignition and leaving a few seconds between each attempt. Amanda saw him switch the master switch on the panel off and back on again twice, then he was trying the ignition again. Each time, he threw his head back against the headrest, and Amanda knew he was closing his eyes, willing the engine to start up again.

“I’ve switched to another fuel tank, but it’s not catching,” Connor said. “Engine gauges are reading as normal, so it’s not that.”

“Gotta be the fuel, right?” Amanda said.

“You’d think,” Connor said. “Something wrong with the injectors.”

Time after time it stalled, but then the engine caught on the fifth try.

“Is it working?” Malachi asked. “It’s busted, right?”

Now he looked even more horrified than before. Like any good news was too much to believe, like it was just a cruel trick intersecting their glimpse into mortality. A glimpse that, if things went wrong, could soon become an eternity.

“Bring us in, Connor,” Austin said.

“Is it just an airstrip?” Amanda asked.

“It’s a small airport,” Connor said. “I guess you could call it an airport, anyway, though I doubt it’ll be much like any airport you’ve been to before.”

The engine hadn’t failed yet, and the turbulence had mostly died down. After a few moments, Connor emitted a joyful whoop and turned back to look at all of them.

“We’re gonna make it,” he said. “Look.”

They all leaned forward to look through the windshield, and Amanda squeezed Andy’s hand a couple of times. She could see green, tree-covered mountains, and somewhere in there was a landing strip.

“That’s it?” she said.

“Is it gonna be long enough?” Malachi asked.

“It’ll be fine,” Amanda said, smiling at him. “A small plane like this doesn’t need a lot of runway.”

“Only thing is,” Connor said, “that runway’s turf rather than asphalt, so it’s very soft when wet. Sometimes it makes for a trickier landing, but I think we’ll be okay.”

Amanda figured they’d probably have been better off without Connor saying that. She couldn’t deny she’d feel a lot better once they had the Piper’s wheels on the runway and even better when she could plant her own two feet on the ground.

“All right,” Connor called again. “Hold on.”

The plane made a new, even sharper drop, and they began their descent to the runway. Amanda looked out the window past Andy’s shoulder, and he gently pulled his hand away. The trees sped by faster and faster as they closed the relative distance between them and the forest below.

Connor flicked a few more switches, and there were new thrumming and whirring sounds. “Wheels are down!” the pilot said. “Try to relax.”

Amanda looked at Austin, who only smiled at her again, and then he was watching his daughter.

The plane bounced a few times as the wheels made contact, screeching on the landing strip surface, and after a few nerve-racking seconds, the plane ground to a halt. Malachi burst into sudden laughter that sounded equally nervous and triumphant, and he unbuckled himself and made for the exit.

“All right,” he said, “that’s enough for me. At least for now. Thanks, Connor, but no thanks.”

Connor chuckled and shrugged as Savannah, Andy, and the dogs went after Malachi, making their way out of the plane.

“You be careful and wait for us on the ground,” Austin called.

“We will,” Savannah called back.

“They’ll be fine,” Connor said, turning around in the cockpit. “Ain’t many folks in the mountains, ever since everything went wrong.”

“Thanks, Connor,” Amanda said. “You did what you said you would.”

“Not quite,” the pilot said. “I didn’t get you to Seattle.”

“You got us on the ground,” Austin said. “That’s enough for me. And at least we’re away from Felts Airfield.”

“Well, that’s true,” Connor said. “Now, let’s get going.”

He led the way out of the plane and onto the turf where the others were waiting. The dogs were running around, happy to stretch their legs, while Andy watched them at play. Malachi and Savannah stood together, facing the long, downward-sloping descent of the mountains over which they’d climbed.

Amanda groaned, clutching her stomach. It felt twisted, and she expected it’d probably been that way for a while, and she’d been too preoccupied to notice. She’d been thinking of the crash she’d been through before, and how she’d forgotten that glimpse at death. It was the same feeling now, different somehow to being shot at or chased by Koble’s people. Just hurtling down toward the ground, there was a difficult sense of helplessness, but now it was already passing like the horror of a bad dream.

“You okay?” Austin asked.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just glad to be alive.”

“Me too,” he said. “Look.”

Austin was pointing at a large sign just past the small cluster of buildings closest to them. It said Bandera State Airport.

“You’re right, Connor,” Amanda said. “I’ve never seen any airport like this before. We saw some small airstrips while I was in the military, but this looks like it was for civvie purposes too.”

Connor grunted in agreement.

“I have,” Austin said. “Used to fly into places like this while I was doing fieldwork. A few sites in North Africa specifically. I remember there was one place just outside of Tunis that used to host aircraft that didn’t want to deal with the red tape of landing at the international airport in the city.”

“Sounds illegal,” Amanda said.

Austin chuckled.

“Call it extra-legal,” he said. “But sometimes discretion is to be advised, you know.”

“I know,” Connor said. “And that’s why you’re going to want to be careful on your way to Seattle. You’re still going, I take it.”

Amanda looked at Austin.

“We are,” she said. “We need to get Novak’s documents to Alistair Mason. After that, I don’t know what we’ll do.”

“Then we’re out,” Austin said. “What about you?”

Connor watched him shrewdly, and Amanda didn’t like it.

“You’re out then, huh?” the pilot said at length. “I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to join you.”

“Is the plane completely compromised?” Austin asked.

“Hard to say for sure,” Connor said.

“Kids,” Austin called.

“Adults!” Savannah called.

“She’s not a kid anymore,” Amanda said softly. “She and Malachi are both seventeen now.”

“It’s just an expression,” Austin said, waving one hand. Then to all of them, “We should probably check for resources in these buildings. Any food, bottles of water, weapons, and tools we might be able to use. The usual.”

“Let’s see what we can find,” Savannah said.

“Got it,” Malachi said, repositioning the pack on his back.

“Be careful,” Austin continued. “We didn’t fall out of the sky and land on our feet only to throw it all away on a stupid mistake.”

“Malachi, you stick with Savannah and Austin,” Amanda said. “Andy, you’re with me.”

“And the dogs?” the boy asked. “What about them?”

“Bring them,” Amanda said lightly. “Maybe we’ll find some dog food.”

“I doubt that,” Connor said easily, “but you try your best now. I’m gonna take a look at the engine and see if I can sort it out. That’s the beauty of the fall of the digital world. We get back to basic mechanics. You never know, we might still be flying to Seattle.”

“Good luck,” Amanda said. “Have you got tools?”

“Some,” Connor said, suddenly unsure.

“Well, you’re welcome to check one of our gear bags,” Austin said. “We’ve got a few things in there. Nothing too heavy, but it might come in handy.”

“Appreciate it,” the pilot said.

He was already strolling toward the engine compartment at the front of the plane. Austin looked at Amanda, and she nodded, impressed.

They split into their two groups to scavenge, with Austin and the two teenagers heading right, and Amanda and Andy heading left. The dogs followed Amanda and Andy at a short distance. The first building Amanda tried was a small administration building, mostly small offices and utility rooms, with a few that looked like they were mainly for storing or repairing aircraft parts and equipment.

“Stay close,” she said quietly.

“I will,” the boy said.

She didn’t expect there would be anybody left up here on the mountain, so far from anything else—at least anything else they knew about. After searching for twenty minutes, they’d found very little. There were several staff lockers in the offices, and many more in a small changing room with a couple of showers at one end.

They found a few bottles of water, but all the food they found was spoiled. There were no cans, just rotting sandwiches in the vending machines and empty slots where all the snacks, sodas, and candy bars once would have been.

“Someone cleared this out,” Amanda said.

“And left the sandwiches?” Andy said, screwing his face up at a discolored chicken sub wrapped in cardboard and plastic packaging behind the glass.

“They’d have known they wouldn’t last,” Amanda said, searching through drawers in one of the desks. “That’s why there aren’t any cans or snacks or things like that.”

“Shoot,” he said.

“Don’t worry,” Amanda said. “Let’s meet up with the others and see how their search went.”

When they did, they were disappointed.

It was the same story in the buildings the other group had searched. No food, very little water, and most of the buildings were in desperate need of repair. It hadn’t been clear from the outside, let alone from the sky above, but the place had been badly damaged in the days since it’d functioned as an airport. Fallen trees had broken through the structures in a couple of places, surely brought down in storms or high winds.

“I don’t think anybody even tried to make a stand here,” Austin said. “Do you?”

“We didn’t find any personal items, really,” Amanda said. “Even in the office drawers it was just the stuff you’d expect. Documents, stationery, stuff like that.”

“It’s a shame,” Austin said. “I mean, I know it’s not easily accessible, but it’s beautiful in a way. Hide out at an airport because you’re not expecting any airplanes to still be working.”

“And then we show up,” Connor called.

They all looked around.

The pilot was still surveying the engine, having taken several of its components out and laid them neatly on the turf in front of the open engine compartment. The twisted bits of metal and oily, greasy parts arrayed there worried Amanda.

“What are we looking at, Connor?” Amanda asked.

“Nothing good,” he said, barely above a mutter.

“What’d he say?” Malachi asked.

“He said it’s no good!” Connor said, almost yelling.

Amanda raised an eyebrow, and after a moment, Connor turned around again and looked guiltily toward her and then Malachi.

“I’m sorry, kid,” he said. “This thing’s pretty much kaput.”

“Kaput?” Andy asked.

“Broken,” Austin said. “Done for.”

“It can’t be fixed, Andy,” Savannah said.

The boy looked disappointed, and then worried, but only for a few moments. He smiled.

“Well,” he said, “what do we do?”

“The engine’s fried,” Connor said, reading everyone’s minds. “We’re gonna need some more parts to fix it, and I doubt very seriously they’ll be here. They never kept much surplus equipment on site before, for fear of theft. Funny now, in a way.”

“There was a maintenance shed back there,” Austin said hopefully.

“Already checked it,” Connor said. “Nothing in there we could use. Even if I thought I could fix it, I wouldn’t advise you to stick around on the mountainside any longer than you absolutely need to. Heck knows there’s no other reason.”

Amanda had to agree with that.

“We’ll get to the city,” she said. “But what about you?”

“What about me?” Connor asked.

“What will you do?”

Connor sighed and dropped the socket wrench he was holding onto the turf where it clanged dully. He didn’t bother making any kind of answer but instead pulled from his pocket the map he’d used to navigate their course in the airplane. “Here,” he said, pointing. “That’s Seattle.”

“How far is that?” Malachi asked.

“As the crow flies, I’d say it’s the best part of a hundred miles.” Connor said. “Now factoring in some unpredictable weather, I’d say you’re looking at between three and five days on foot. It might be more if you hit any kind of obstruction or if you have delays, but there’s no way you’re doing that trip on foot in under three days.”

“I hear you,” Amanda said.

She knew the man’s advice was sound. On foot, it would be difficult, but they’d walked cross-country before. She was still just happy to feel the surety of solid ground beneath her feet.

“As for me,” Connor said quickly, “I think I’ll head east to Cle Elum. I’ve got a friend there who’ll be able to get me back to Spokane, one way or another.”

Thunder cracked overhead, and the pilot looked up at the sky nervously. Amanda sensed the man was eager to get going, having done his part. Rain fell lightly on them, and Connor began gathering his things, carefully placing the tools he’d borrowed from them back into their bag and zipping it up against the rain.

“Here,” he said, handing Amanda the map. “I know this territory enough, whereas you folks are strangers. I’ll make it to Cle Elum a darn sight faster than you’ll get to Jet City.”

“Jet City?” Andy asked.

“It’s an airplane thing,” Amanda said distantly. “You sure we can have this, Connor?”

He held up his hands as if to say it wasn’t a problem. They gave their final thanks to the man and watched him trudge off eastward, buttoning up his jacket as he did. Once he was gone, the only reminders of him were the map he’d given them, and the now-useless Piper-32 sitting dead on the airstrip.

With that, they checked they had all their belongings and turned their backs on the airstrip.

They made their own way through thick undergrowth, which was hard going. They were following a track, but it had become badly overgrown and strewn with potholes that soon began to fill with water as the rain fell more and more heavily.

Amanda saw a turnoff ahead. “There,” she said, and started heading toward it.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, but Amanda approached it cautiously. The turnoff took them to what looked to be a main road, or at least it was wider, with less debris and overgrowth. There was an old Amtrak bus stop on the other side of it.

“We’ll take shelter in there,” she said.

She looked both ways down the road before leading them out and under the bus stop. There they stopped to clear the mud off their boots. Savannah, Malachi, and Andy all took a seat on the narrow bench lining one side of the covered stop area. Both dogs shook the rain off their backs and curled up together on the ground at Andy’s feet.

“Down there,” Amanda said, looking through the rain-speckled polycarbonate windows of the bus stop. “I think there are buildings down there.”

“I see them,” Austin said. “No lights, though. I’m surprised you could see them.”

“I didn’t know what I was seeing.”

“There aren’t many,” he said, squinting to regard them through the rain. “Everybody ready to move?”

Andy groaned but got quickly to his feet, prompting the dogs to do the same. They made their way to the scattered buildings, which showed no sign of life, all of them in various states of decay. The heavy rain drummed on the buildings, almost deafening on the occasional corrugated sheet metal roofs on some of the cruder structures.

Already, puddles were forming in the cracks and depressions in the road’s surface. There were downed trees scattered here and there, some of them infringing onto the edges of the road. The block had only a few stores, including a general store and a pharmacy. There was a truck repair shop, which caught Amanda’s eye, with a huge cardboard caricature of a grinning, behatted trucker’s face in the window.

There was a speech bubble emanating from his mouth that read, “Keep on Truckin’!”

“We might find something in there,” she said.

“Vehicle?” Austin said.

“You never know,” she said.

They briefly searched the shop, finding no vehicles in working condition. They moved to another building across the street, one that from its advertising had been a hunting goods store—now completely cleared out. Malachi did find some vending machines that still contained bottled water and cans of soda. Amanda watched with interest as he found a rock from outside and then began whaling on the glass of one of the vending machines.

“Careful now,” she said.

“I’m fine,” he said, straining to smash the glass harder each time. “Just got to—”

A shot rang out.

“Take cover!” Austin yelled.

Amanda jumped down, grabbing Andy by the shirt and pulling him down beside her as the bullets began to fly.

2

Austin heard glass smashing as bullets came flying into the shop. Whoever was shooting had something powerful and capable of automatic fire. Rain still fell heavily against the windows, obscuring what little they could see of their attacker through the glass. Austin could hardly tell what direction the bullets were coming from at first, and he couldn’t risk looking long enough to be sure.

“Austin!” Amanda called. “We can’t stay here!”

“Return fire,” he said. “If you can. I think it’s coming from the repair shop.”

“We were just there!” Savannah cried.

“We missed something,” Austin said. “Cover me, and I’ll try to cut them off.”

Amanda nodded, feeling at her waistband for her pistol. Austin saw her jump up to shoot as soon as there was a break in the fire. Andy took cover with the dogs at her feet. Savannah and Malachi had just had time to push over the vending machine he’d been breaking into and hide behind it. Austin couldn’t help but notice this had broken the glass shield on its front.

They didn’t have time to scavenge for Coca-Cola now. Once again, the fight was on.

“Malachi,” he said. “Cover me. I’m going to sneak around the back, so watch your fire and let the others know.”

“Sure,” Malachi said. “Watch yourself.”

Malachi pulled his rifle from his back, kneeling and trying to stay behind the vending machine with his head low, and then he rose, took aim, and fired. Malachi was the best shot of the lot of them, but that didn’t matter right now. They just had to keep the defensive up long enough for Austin to get up close and personal with whoever was attacking them.

He made a run for the back of the store and then exited through a door hanging off its hinges. He ran half the block down behind the row of stores so he wouldn’t be spotted crossing the street, and then he made a break for it, taking cover behind a dumpster on the far side of the road. There were no nearby shots, and he hoped he’d gotten away with it.

He was almost at the repair shop again when he saw an open door at the back and knew they’d missed that the first time, being too preoccupied with the attached garage. He could see the figure through the open door. It was a woman. She was engrossed in shooting the rifle, but Austin couldn’t help noticing she was shaking all over.

She was so engrossed he managed to sneak all the way up behind her, even as he cringed at the soft sticking and unsticking sounds of his rain-soaked boots on the floorboards. Then he had his own rifle trained at the back of her head. He clicked the safety off and saw her head jerk sideways.

“Still,” he said. “You stay still. If you’re gonna turn, you’re gonna put your gun down first, and if you move to do anything else, it’s all gonna be over for you.”

The woman had begun to shake even more violently, but then she bent and placed the rifle on the floor.

“Now slide it back toward me,” he said.

She did as she was told.

“Turn.”

Austin was surprised to see the woman was heavily pregnant. The curve of her belly was visible through the ragged cardigan and hunting jacket she wore, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether that jacket had once been hanging up in the hunting store now so riddled with the bullets from her rifle.

“Please, mister,” she said. “I know I don’t deserve your mercy bu—”

“Stop,” he said. “Are you alone here?”

Slowly, she nodded.

“Here!” Austin yelled to the others. He never let the rifle stray from its mark and never lifted his finger from the trigger. Soon the others joined him. The woman gave Austin a guilty look after seeing Andy standing half beside and half behind him.

“I didn’t know you had a kid,” she said.

“Kids,” he said.

Savannah rolled her eyes, but he ignored her—it was no time for that.

“That’s my daughter there,” he said. “You shot at all of us. Didn’t care who you killed.”

“I was scared,” she said.

“What’s your name?” Amanda asked.

“Jenny,” she said. “My name’s Jenny, but you can call me Jen if you want to.”

“What are you doing here, Jenny?” Austin asked. “And how come you’re all alone in—well, in your condition?”

Jenny was breathing hard, and she looked for somewhere to steady herself. Austin took a step closer but nodded at a counter a few yards away in the lobby, and she started moving toward it.

“There,” he said. “That better?”

She nodded. “I had to get out of Seattle,” she said. “Soldiers burned down my home. I thought I’d try to stay here until I was able to give birth. And I’m not alone.”

Amanda held her gun up again.

“I’m alone right now!” Jenny said quickly. “I’m just saying, I’ve got a husband. He’s out hunting. I was just trying to make you people go away. You don’t know what we’ve been through. What we’ve seen out here.”

“I think we could make a pretty good guess,” Amanda said tightly. “We’ve seen a lot too. Being out here all alone for a few hours doesn’t make you special. Heck, losing your house, even losing your family doesn’t make you that special anymore.”

Jenny blubbered a little but held back further tears. “I know,” she said, nodding modestly. “I know that. And I’m sorry.”

“We need water,” Amanda said. “Can you give us that? And then we’ll head off.”

Jenny’s eyes lit up immediately. “I can do that,” she said. “We’ve got lots of water. Even sorted our own retention system, or so Chad calls it.”

“Not that,” Amanda said. “Bottles. Sealed bottles.”

Jenny nodded. “I’ll get them now,” she said. “Just over here.”

Austin followed her, never moving the gun from her head as she bent to reach a low cabinet and take out a large, plastic-wrapped pack of bottled water. He didn’t expect she’d try anything, but it wasn’t worth the risk.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Jenny said. “Now where are you folks headed? South?”

“No,” Austin said cautiously. “We’re going to the city.”

Jenny’s expression dropped. “Are you part of the—” She abandoned whatever the question had been.

“Part of the what?” Amanda asked.

Jenny looked down coyly and spoke again in a small voice. “Are you part of the raiding parties?” she asked.

“No,” Austin said simply. “We’re not.”

“I didn’t think so,” she said. “Not with the kid. Kids, I mean.”

Savannah huffed, and Austin shot a glance at Amanda, who was smiling.

He had to put some effort into not smiling back. Harmless as she now seemed, he didn’t want to give Jenny the impression they’d totally let their guard down. After all, anybody could seem harmless when they were disarmed. That didn’t mean she didn’t have the place booby-trapped in ways they hadn’t imagined, or a spare twelve-gauge duct taped under a counter somewhere.

“You shouldn’t go,” Jenny said. “It’s not safe in the city anymore.”

“We know how to handle ourselves,” Amanda said. “Don’t worry about us. You look like you’ve got plenty to worry about yourself.”

“That’s true, miss,” Jenny said.

Austin looked at Amanda, who glanced at the exit and gently nodded her head in that direction.

“We should go,” Austin said. “But take care, Jenny.”

“If you go,” she said quietly, “you won’t make it out.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Austin said.

They packed up the water bottles, then carried on along the street, heading west. The rain had calmed, almost stopped entirely. The road was wet, and though they tried to avoid the puddles, there wasn’t much use. They were already soaked to the skin.

At least the stopped rain meant they could safely peruse the map.

“Skykomish,” Amanda said, studying the map as they walked. “That’s what this is.”

“It’s beautiful,” Savannah said.

“That’s the Pacific Northwest,” Austin said. “I never got out to this part of the country much before, but I always loved it. Reminds me of Northern Europe, you know. Scandinavia.”

“Vikings!” Andy said.

“Well,” Austin said, “I don’t think we need to worry about running into any Vikings.”

They were turning a corner in the road when Austin heard an engine approaching.

“Take cover,” he hissed. They all darted to the side, diving into the brush at the edge of the road. A truck careened around the corner and pulled up in front of their hiding spot. Four heavily armed men jumped off the back and held their weapons at the ready.

Austin raised his hand just high enough for the others to see it. Together, they held their breath and watched the armed men begin to investigate the deserted road.

“They were here, right?” one of them called. “Hank, you said you saw something.”

“I did,” another voice said.

“There!”

Knowing they’d been made, Austin already had his rifle trained on the man who’d spotted them. Amanda and Malachi took the split-second opportunity to get into some space of their own and raised their own weapons. Amanda grabbed Andy’s hand, pulling him along and then keeping him behind her.

“Weapons down,” a stocky, greasy-looking man at the front of the opposing formation said. “Don’t make me ask again. Sooner you do that, sooner we can all get out of this rain.”

“Hold on,” Austin said reasonably. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding here. We just—”

“There’s clearly been a misunderstanding,” the stocky man continued, “because I just asked you to put down your weapons, and you are clearly not putting down your weapons but chatting back to me. I ask again, put down your darned weapons.”

Austin exchanged a quick look with Amanda.

“Look,” one of the other men said, “believe it or not, we wanna talk.”

“You wanna talk?” Austin said. “If you wanna talk, you put your guns down first. Starting with you, pal.”

The stocky man eyed him.

“You heard me,” Austin said. “All of you. We’ll have this conversation, but nobody’s pointing any guns at anybody. Otherwise, we’re not talking.”

The stocky man looked over at the other one who’d spoken, the one who wanted to talk. The other man nodded at the stocky man, and then slowly they all lowered their weapons. Austin lowered his own rifle, then Amanda and Malachi followed suit.

Everybody took a breath

“We’ve got a place,” the stocky man said. “But if you wanna see it, Hank here’s gotta borrow your guns.” The other man who’d spoken came forward.

“Just like that?” Austin asked.

“We don’t wanna keep your weapons,” Hank said. “But we can’t let strangers walk unchecked through this territory. Not with all that’s been happening.”

“How can we trust you?”

“I’ve got a kid,” Hank said. “He’s called Ben. We’ve got a community with families. Wives and husbands, children. If you want a warm place to stay, get some warm food in your bellies, it’s just the way it’s gotta be.”

After a quick glance between Austin, Amanda, and the others, they agreed to this condition. Hank collected their weapons. He had a kind, concerned-looking face and smiled reassuringly at Andy. Austin felt a glimmer of hope then that perhaps they’d just gotten off on the wrong foot with these people. Hank took the weapons to the back of their truck and rejoined the other three.

“You’d be foolish to enter Seattle now,” Hank said. “It’s under martial law, and it’s not recommended you get caught wandering around. Not if you value your lives.”

“Well,” Austin said, “we have to try anyway. We need to speak to someone in the government.”

“Government?” Hank asked. “I don’t know if you could call it that. But we’re about the closest thing to a real government around here.”

“I don’t understand,” Austin said.

“And I don’t understand how you people are just walking around after your plane fell out of the sky,” Hank said. “That was you, right?”

Austin shrugged, and Hank shook his head in sheer confusion.

“Wait here,” he said. Hank went off with the other three, and they had a quiet conversation. After a few tense moments, he turned back to the group.

“We’ll take you to our camp,” he said. “We’d be happy to welcome you.”

Austin shared another look with Amanda, quite sure this wasn’t an invitation, and it wasn’t a request. “What do you think?” Austin whispered.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” she said.

One by one, with Austin taking the lead, they climbed aboard the men’s truck and settled down among the tarp-covered boxes. Russ jumped up easily, but the high bed of the truck was just out of Maggy’s reach. Andy helped her up and then scrambled up himself. The back was covered with a tarp too, and once the engine started and they began rolling along, it became clear that traversing the woodland terrain would be rough.

3

Austin guessed the journey had been about three hours.

With how bumpy the ride had been, combined with how apprehensive they were about their new hosts or captors, there had been no danger of any of them falling asleep. They hadn’t been asked to wear blindfolds, and while that was good, Austin couldn’t help but think it might mean these men had planned for this to be a one-way trip for the group.

No matter what happened, it wouldn’t come to that without a fight.

They finally arrived at their destination, a small settlement comprising fewer than a dozen buildings on a hill with a small river running beside it. It was set in an opening in the woods, intercut by water that flowed from somewhere unseen higher up the mountain.

“Welcome to Skykomish Camp,” Hank called back from the truck’s cab.

The driver parked the truck beside what looked to have once been a small hotel—more a bed and breakfast, really—with Parkey Hotel painted on its side in serif block letters. Once the truck stopped, they jumped down and looked around, Russ and Maggy being the first out of the truck, eager to explore.

“Russ, Maggy, heel,” Austin said.

The dogs came close to him. There were relatively few people around in the gloom of the early evening, but Austin saw several houses lit from the inside with the pale, flickering light of lanterns.

“What do you think?” Hank asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Austin said. “I like how you’ve made it home.”

“It’s what we’ve got,” Hank said. “Lots of people come from the city, myself included, so this isn’t exactly the life we were used to living before.”

“There’s a lot of that going around lately,” Amanda said.

Hank nodded.

Austin stretched his aching muscles, placing his feet one at a time on one of the truck tires. The walking had done them in, and they’d gone straight from trekking to sitting cramped in the back of the truck for hours. It wasn’t surprising he was sore, and from the look of the others, the feeling was mutual.

“I know you’ve probably had a bit of a trip already,” Hank said, “but we can’t stop quite yet. We’ll get you settled just as soon as we can.”

“Thanks,” Austin said.

“Let’s go,” Hank said.

He gestured toward the hotel, and two of the others flanked the group on their way in. They went up inside, through the lobby, up the stairs into a room that surely must have once been a family suite, and then through to a smaller room.

“You can put your stuff in here,” one of the men said. “The suite can be yours, at least for now. Everyone’s sort of got their own space, you know.”

“I’m starving,” Andy said to Amanda.

“Don’t worry, kid,” the man said, “because food’s the very next subject under discussion. There’s a schoolhouse outside that’s been repurposed as a kind of canteen. That’s usually where we eat. All together most times. It’s kind of a communal affair.”

Andy nodded nervously.

The man laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said, “even though the food ain’t the best. Depends on who’s cooking, you know?”

Andy nodded again but still wasn’t smiling.

“It’s been a long journey,” Amanda said apologetically.

Her ability to conceal her emotions, even to charm when she needed to, always mystified as well as impressed Austin. It was vaguely threatening, he thought, to those who could see through it. He was just glad she was part of their group and not on the other side.

“Anyway,” the man continued, “once you’re down in the canteen, you’ll be able to meet some of the others. You’ll feel more at home after that, I reckon.”

“Maybe,” Amanda said. “Yes, I think we will.”

After dropping their gear off, Austin found the knife he’d kept in a small compartment in the smaller of the two gear bags and tucked it into his back pocket. The group had taken the rest of their guns, but he knew that if he needed something in a pinch, the knife might do. It might be enough just to grab one of them and use that as leverage for recouping at least some of their weapons and getting out of Dodge.

He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

They followed Hank and the other kind-faced man across the settlement to a small bungalow that had once served as a schoolhouse. That must have been a good time ago, because the building looked as crooked and tired as some ancient, storm-beaten church. Now, instead of rows of desks, there were tables set up in the central space. The thin walls had been broken through to create one large, communal room where the whole community could eat.

There was a long serving table at one end, and there were rows of food, mostly still in preserving jars or sealed cans. It was much like what they’d been subsisting on for the last year. Canned vegetables and meats, some other dry goods, including rice—brown rice, which Austin wasn’t used to—and a few different brands of crackers, which were all broken into pieces.

The dogs were kept outside, which was the camp policy. Andy didn’t take offense when Hank told them this, and Austin was impressed. Austin himself couldn’t fault the group for that. Whether or not his group was being kept here against their will, it was good enough of the camp to trust them to eat from their stores. He wasn’t surprised they’d draw the line at having the animals inside and running around too.

Austin was suddenly reminded of his cousin John, who when they were kids had owned a plump sausage dog called Archie. Archie would have cleaned out one of those tables in a minute, if only he’d been able to get at it. As Austin approached the table, a short woman with fiery red hair wearing an apron grinned to receive him.

“What’ll it be, honey?” she asked. “New here, huh?”

“Sarah,” Hank said, “this is Austin. That’s Amanda, his partner; his daughter, Savannah; and her friend, Malachi; and that’s Anthony.”

“Andy,” the boy corrected.

Sarah gave a short bow. “Well, I’m pleased to meet you,” she said. “I’m the settlement’s medic, I guess you could say. I was a registered nurse before. I don’t know if I still am, but I guess that’s just one of all sorts of questions you could ask in this day and age. Now who’s that barking outside?”

Andy looked up again. “That’s Russ and Maggy,” he said. “They’re our dogs. We picked up Maggy in Spokane.”

“No foolin’,” Sarah said. “That’s not so far from here.”

Austin sensed they were approaching risky territory with the conversation and decided to change the subject.

“It’s kind of you to share your food with us,” he said.

“Way I see it,” Sarah said, “you’re sharing with us. This is your home just as much as it is mine, even if you’re new arrivals.”

“You can’t really feel that way,” Amanda said guardedly. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Sarah said, “but I do. That’s exactly the kind of attitude that’s kept us doing any more than just scratching a livin’ off the earth since everything went south.”

“So long as you don’t cross us,” Hank said softly, “you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Austin nodded but didn’t make eye contact with him. Sarah began serving up food while Austin hung at the back and surveyed the rest of the settlers sitting and eating in the canteen. There were three groups of settlers, and then the greasy man who’d stopped them with the truck. Austin watched him for a while, but the man didn’t bother to look up from his plate, so thoroughly was he fixed on eating.

“Austin,” Amanda said.

He looked back at her holding her plate.

“You gonna eat?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

He came up and asked Sarah to serve him up some of the preserved beef—that was surely out of date but didn’t smell off—and some of the mixed canned vegetables. He thanked her and joined the others sitting at one of the tables. Hank was there and already picking at his plate with a fork. Andy, Savannah, and Malachi had already started eating, while Amanda poured them all glasses of water from a large glass jug on the table.

Austin did consider for a moment that the food might have been poisoned, but didn’t think it likely. Aside from the fact that Sarah had allowed them to pick what they’d wanted, Hank was eating the same food several of them were also digging into and drank thirstily from the glass Amanda had poured for him. Austin began to eat and found it didn’t taste half as bad as it looked.

“Thanks, Amanda,” Hank said. “You don’t mind if I call you folks on a first-name-type basis?”

“Of course not,” Amanda said.

“Yeah,” Hank said, chuckling. “I guess a lot of those formalities sort of slipped by the wayside.”

“Speaking of formalities,” Austin said, scooping corn and peas onto his fork, “we haven’t met your leader yet. Unless I’m to take it that’s you, Hank.”

“Sometimes,” Hank said seriously. “But not most of the time. Mason’s our Camp Commander, so we call him.”

Austin looked at Amanda.

“Mason?” she asked. “Just Mason?”

“Alistair’s his name,” Hank said. “He’s been running things since we had to quit the city.”

“When can we see him?” Austin asked.

Hank blinked.

“What’s wrong?” Austin asked. “Is he here?”

“Not at the moment,” Hank said. He put his fork down. “Try to see this from my perspective, Austin,” he said. “You guys have come in off the road.”

“We were picked up,” Amanda said.

“I know,” Hank said. “I know we picked you up, but you’re here. One way or another, you’ve found your way to Skykomish Camp, and now you’re here, and we’re feeding you, putting you up with some level of privacy. Mason’s not around at the moment, but you have my word that you will meet him soon.”

Austin stared at the man, trying to appear not aggressive but assertive in pressing for information about Mason. This had to be the Alistair Mason they were looking for—the odds of there being two different ones in these circumstances were extreme. It seemed Skykomish truly had been a fortunate turn. One that they might, possibly, not have survived without.

“I understand that,” Austin said. “It’s just nice to know who your host is.”

Now he remembered the documents they’d brought for Mason in the gear bag up in the hotel suite. Anybody from the camp could be up there rifling through the bags, could take them. Why hadn’t he kept them on him, at least some of them? Without those, if Alistair Mason wasn’t what they’d been told, if he had changed sides or even been killed, they would have lost the information that could bring down Koble’s campaign to seize control in the region.

“He’ll be back tomorrow,” Hank said. “For now, please, just make yourselves comfortable. I’m sure we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Austin realized that was about as much information about the camp’s absent commander as he was going to get. Even if he had wanted to press the issue, he didn’t get the chance. Hank stood, took his dirty plate away, and cleaned it himself. Then he was joined by another man Austin hadn’t seen yet, and together they left the canteen.

“Well,” Austin said quietly to Amanda, “I don’t think either of us expected that.”

“It’s good, Austin,” Amanda said. “He’s just fallen into our lap.”

“Yeah,” Austin said, “or we’ve fallen into his. Sleeping under an unfamiliar roof, being fed by these people—”

“Being fed,” Savannah said. “A roof is a roof, Dad. It beats the rain.”

He smiled weakly at her.

“It doesn’t always have to be difficult,” she said. “So for now, just enjoy it.”

Austin forced a smile, but he wasn’t feeling it.

“How’s the food?” asked a man.

It was the man Hank had left the canteen with only moments before. He was tall and broad with shoulder-length, messy hair and wore a stained denim jacket at least a few sizes too small for him. He didn’t wait for a response before sitting down himself with a plate of food.

“You don’t mind if I join you,” he said, beginning to eat. “So,” he said through a mouthful of food, “where are you folks coming from?”

Austin looked at Amanda who smirked at him.

“Idaho,” Austin said. “We used to live in the suburbs out there.”

“Oh, really?” the man said. “Boise?”

“No,” Austin said. “Meridian. We lived in the outskirts of the city.”

That was a lie, but there was no sense telling anybody about their recent residency just outside of Grangeville. Malachi’s mother was still living in Grangeville, and they still had some roots and connections in the town. They couldn’t risk bringing any more torment to that town, which was already under the boot of Lydia Koble’s forces.

“Meridian,” the man said, thinking. “I don’t know it well, I’m afraid.”

Good, Austin thought.

“I’m so sorry, I should have introduced myself,” the man said. “I’m Wayne.”

The group introduced themselves, and Wayne launched into a series of stories about where he’d gone and been in the time after the electromagnetic pulse attack just over a year before. He’d stuck around Washington State, but once the situation in Seattle became more dire, he’d been forced to move out, into the woods.

“That’s how I ended up at Skykomish,” he said. “And I’m darn pleased I did.”

“What’s happening in Seattle exactly?” Amanda asked.

“Martial law,” he said simply. “But that’s not us. Boy, if we had the manpower for that. No, it’s this woman, Lydia Koble. You might have heard of her.”

“We have,” Austin said cautiously.

Wayne’s eyes sparkled, like he knew Austin knew a great deal more than he was letting on.

“Well, it’s her people that have the city on lockdown,” he said. “There’s a curfew every night at sunset. They’ll shoot to kill if anyone’s out and about without a good reason or a permit.”

“How do you get a permit?” Savannah asked.

“By helping Koble, I guess,” Wayne said. “The way she figures it—her and her lackeys—anyone who’s out at night and not helping her cause can only harm it.”

“It’s a dictatorship,” Austin said.

“It will be,” Wayne said grimly. “Heck, it’s close. But we’re gonna do everything we can to stop that from happening.”

“So will we,” Malachi said quickly.

Austin looked at him, surprised and even a little irritated he’d gone ahead and said that with them still not fully understanding their present situation. Still, Wayne nodded, clearly impressed.

“Anyway,” Wayne said, “the people in Seattle are losing hope. Hardly anyone has a job anymore. Even the people who were doing things that might still be applicable in post-EMP society eventually gave up and quit because of the persecution they were facing at the hands of her soldiers. That and they were becoming a target of the gangs moving through the city. Through the cities, I should say, ’cause I hear they’re all over.”

“They are,” Austin said. “But shouldn’t Koble’s military forces have been checking the gangs?”

“Somehow they seldom seem to meet,” Wayne said sarcastically.

Austin had suspected for a long time that the roving gangs that’d plagued towns, cities, and even the countryside across the Midwest for months now were actually in league with the shadowy forces trying to assimilate control over the land. While the gangs were often ragtag and poorly equipped bands of brigands, Koble’s forces mostly comprised of ex-military personnel and other highly trained individuals.

“Controlled opposition,” Austin said.

“What’s that?” Andy said over his own mouthful of beef and gravy.

“It’s when a government or group of people,” Austin began, “Koble, in this case, controls a group of people who pretend to be against them, just so they can be the ones who are saying bad things about the state or group publicly. Like playing a game of pool with a partner who’s trying to let you win.”

Andy thought about that for a moment and then nodded unsurely.

“Families got split up,” Wayne said, “and after that, not many people wanted to stay in the city. Even the Seattle lifers, those who were born there, most of them got out after that. It’s just a shame that—”

He stopped mid-sentence and looked over Austin’s shoulder toward the door. Austin turned and saw Hank waving at Wayne from the doorway, and Wayne stood up and headed for the door.

“Excuse me, folks,” he said. “I’ve gotta run. But don’t worry; you’ll meet Mason tomorrow, and I think he’ll be even more excited to see you.”

With that, Hank and Wayne were gone again. Behind them, the sky was darkening as night approached. Together, the group went back to the hotel and got as comfortable as they could on the cots that’d been laid out for them throughout the center of the room, with all the furniture—any that was still in there anyway, including a narrow desk, chair, and nightstand—having been moved to the wall opposite the door.

Again, Austin quickly checked to ensure that Novak’s documents hadn’t been disturbed. It was paranoid, he knew; he’d been checking periodically the whole time they’d been in the bag. It still made him feel better to see them there. He took the cot closest to the door. He settled in, trying to wait for the others to drift off before he slept himself.

He was asleep before he knew it.

4

Austin woke to a heavy knocking at their door and reached instinctively for the rifle at his side. He always slept with it beside him when they were in strange territory, and he panicked briefly when he couldn’t find it there.

“Rise and shine!” Hank called through the door. “Austin, you up?”

“I am,” Austin said groggily.

“Breakfast, my friend,” Hank said. “We’ll see you in the canteen. I know I couldn’t answer your questions last night, but we have to be sure before we open up too much. I know you understand.”

“I do,” Austin said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“So you’ll come down, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said.

Amanda was already sitting up and regarding him with a gentle look on her face. She was always beautiful when she woke up, but even more so when she was asleep. Like all the worry, all the uncertainty of waking life had left her, if only for a few hours.

Together they woke the others, and everyone took turns washing up in the makeshift washroom that’d been made for them. There was a bucket of cold water for each of them and individually wrapped bars of soap which must have been scavenged in bulk. There was no indoor plumbing anymore at the hotel, though one of the campers had mentioned hopefully that state of affairs wouldn’t be permanent.

“We want a PVC water pump,” one old man told Austin. “With enough pipe, we could probably get water all over the camp, or at least to the parts with residents.”

“Maybe we could help with that,” Austin said. “If we’re still around.”

“Well, that’d be mighty fine,” the man said. “But we’re gonna want a propane heater or something like that, and an electric pump once we’ve got some kind of generator. Assuming there ain’t gonna be another EMP, of course.”

“Well,” Austin said, “I can’t speak to that. But I’d be looking at a twelve-volt pump, and if I see one on my travels, I’ll keep your plans in mind.”

The man nodded respectfully and let Austin go along with the others.

They headed to the canteen once more and found it filled with people preparing for the day. They were having breakfast and talking while others were outside already beginning work. One team was working on organizing and ratcheting a huge pile of timber to another truck like the one the group had been picked up in. Austin knew it wasn’t the same because the bed had been modified into a flat, borderless surface to make it easier to load onto the back.

“Busy beavers, huh,” Amanda said quietly.

“I wouldn’t trust them near that wood then,” Savannah said.

Andy giggled. “I’m starving,” he said.

“Well,” Austin said, “you’re in the right place then. Go ahead, kid.”

Andy went first, then they all served themselves. Austin spotted Hank at one of the far tables, engaged in conversation with the same tall man, Wayne, with whom he’d taken his leave the night before, and another man who was handsome and well-dressed in dark slacks and a light-colored shirt tucked in at the waist. Austin nudged Amanda and nodded in their direction.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I think so,” Austin said.

Hank saw him looking and began to rise from the table, patting Wayne a couple of times on the shoulder. The other man stood with him, and then they were both heading toward the group’s table on the other side of the canteen. Austin put the gear bag containing the documents he’d brought with him between his feet under the table.

“Here we go,” Austin said.

“Keep it cool,” Amanda said. “Let’s just get all the information we can. And cross our fingers that this is our Mason.”

Hank sat down with them just like the night before, only he’d already finished his breakfast and now only drank water from the jug on the table. The other man still hadn’t sat down, but he reached out his hand for Austin to shake.

“Alistair Mason,” the man said. “Welcome to Skykomish. I understand you’ve had a bit of a rough ride in getting here.”

Malachi chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, “you should probably check the suspension on those trucks.”

Savannah gave him a sideways glare that could’ve burned a hole through a railway slat, but Malachi hardly noticed.

“We’ll look into that,” Mason said jovially.

“We should probably give an account of ourselves,” Austin said, “if we’re to enjoy your hospitality. It only seems fair.”

Mason nodded and sat to listen to him.

Austin gave Mason and Hank a rundown of what had happened since they left Idaho. How they’d borrowed the Sunrader campervan from Old Man Hopkins on the outskirts of the city and had fallen afoul of the Amott brothers while trying to scavenge a spare tire for it at the junkyard. Austin didn’t mention Golden Harvest Farm, which was near the Amotts’ property, because that place was too good to risk for the sake of that conversation.

Once Austin got to the part where the group had entered the city of Spokane and had taken refuge in the Local Institute of Modern Art, or LIMA, Mason became even more interested. He was especially curious about Professor Sam Novak, the man they’d been directed toward to better understand Koble’s plan to reboot and monopolize the United States’ electrical grid.

Mason’s face was sorrowful when Austin related about Elizabeth Novak’s death and the professor’s subsequent suicide, giving his life in a firefight as a distraction so that the rest of the group might escape into the night-darkened streets of Spokane. Aside from the fact that they’d eventually escaped, that they’d adopted Novak’s dog, Maggy, was the one other positive outcome of that miserable event.

“So, you’ve still got these files?” Mason asked.

Austin regarded him. “We do,” he said. “And we’ve got the name of someone we were supposed to give them to.”

Hank looked confused, but Mason was serene, even expectant.

Austin looked at Amanda, who nodded subtly.

“Well,” he said, “as a matter of fact, it’s you, Mr. Mason.”

Hank clapped his hands together and laughed. “I knew it,” he said. “And I knew fate had brought us together. It didn’t make any sense otherwise.”

“Coincidence,” Amanda said. “And a very fortunate one.”

“I don’t believe in it,” Hank said brightly. “But the point is, you’re here now.”

“Me,” Mason said softly, and then after a moment, “I’m sorry about Sam. He was a friend to me. We worked together on some of the early initiatives to do with charge retention in multicell batteries for portable industrial projects. He was a good man.”

“Right to the end,” Malachi said.

Mason nodded.

“Spokane was a ghost town before Seattle emptied out,” Mason said, “though I can’t say I’ve been there for some time. I went around April, and I saw Sam on that occasion. Elizabeth was already on the decline.”

He looked sad but didn’t stop there.

Mason shared that he too had been forced to leave Seattle after a series of brutal crackdowns by Koble’s forces. Koble’s people had closed down and occupied his agency’s offices, and all their intelligence and technology—any of it that was still relevant and functional—had been appropriated.

“What agency was that?” Austin asked.

“I’m still bound to secrecy. I’m sorry. The point is that leadership was thrust on me,” Mason said, a hint of bitterness in his voice now. “I had subordinates at the agency, but I wasn’t the boss. Now that I’m in charge, I feel like the fact that I didn’t want it somehow guards against some possible missteps. I can’t say I enjoy it like some would.”

“That does sound oddly encouraging,” Amanda said. “Don’t you think, Austin?”

He knew what she was driving at—Mason could just as well have been describing Austin himself. He grunted noncommittally, but he knew she was right on the money and knew she knew it too.

“We’ve suffered some setbacks recently,” Hank said. “We’ve lost people on scouting runs, supply runs. I don’t know how long the resources we’ve got are going to hold out.”

“But hopefully,” Mason said, “you’ve got something that might turn the tide.”

Austin shrugged.

“We’ll try our best,” he said. “We’ve got what Novak—what the professor—said would be helpful.”

“That’s good,” Mason said. “We’re not the only ones, you know.”

“The only what?” Amanda asked. “Resistance against Koble?”

“There’s another rebel group in Tacoma,” Mason said. “We just met with them. With their numbers and weapons, and with the added support we can get from the locals there, here, and as many places in between as possible, we might just be able to make a difference.”

“Tacoma,” Austin said.

Mason nodded. “And you know they’re not the only ones,” he said coldly. “Nobody wants this. Normal people don’t want this. This is Koble’s project, and it’s a power trip, plain and simple.”

Austin agreed and reached down beneath the table where he picked through the gear bag he’d brought, producing a thick wad of documents from one of the inner compartments. He placed them on the table between him and Mason, and Mason regarded them with wonder.

“That’s it?” Mason asked. “May I?”

Austin gestured that he could, and Mason began perusing the documents.

“These show the location of the last NEXUS work cell,” Mason said after a moment. “I don’t believe it. It’s right there in black and white.”

“Is that important?” Malachi asked.

“These are the batteries Novak talked about,” Austin said. “The hubs.”

“It’s vital,” Mason said quickly, looking at Malachi. “It’s been a missing piece of the puzzle for us.”

“What exactly is NEXUS?” Amanda asked. “We know it’s a grid that controls electricity nationwide, but can’t that be controlled manually?”

“It’s not just a grid,” Mason said, still looking over the documents. “It’s a power bank, a grid, and what you might call an initiating system. That means it’s capable not only of storing and distributing power but attenuating it for all different functions. Commercial and industrial, domestic—and that means it’s a catch-all program for getting the lights back on in the good old US-of-A.”

Austin nodded. “And here it is,” he said.

“At our fingertips,” Mason muttered. “You see, NEXUS is a huge system, but it relies on independent cells, which Koble will eliminate once they’ve completed their purpose. Once they’ve channeled the power and acclimated that portion of the grid, those portions can be remotely powered and maintained.”

“Central control,” Amanda said. “Meaning Koble, or whoever’s running NEXUS at that point, could dictate which areas get power from hundreds of miles away.”

“That’s right,” Mason said. “There’d be some potential for cutting or controlling power locally, but I don’t see how there could be any kind of long-lasting or coordinated effort. Especially once the enemy has the advantage of as much juice and industry as they want.”

Austin tried to take it all in. It wasn’t like there was any truly shocking information, but hearing it put so plainly by someone in the know had humbled him. It reminded him of Novak telling him about Koble’s plan in the first place, and then inevitably that the professor had paid for that same plan with his life.

“Thank you,” Mason said. “For your commitment this far, and for making sure this information got to me. I know it can’t have been easy, not even just getting here, but trusting me enough to hand it over.”

“Was that a mistake?” Austin asked quietly.

“No,” Mason said, “and I’ll do what it takes to prove that to you. But this doesn’t mean your journey has to end here.”

“What do you mean?”

Mason stood and touched Austin’s shoulder, bidding him to join him aside from the table. Austin went with the man as he led the way to the canteen door. They stood there together, and Mason leaned toward him.

“Join the fight,” he said. “Help us bring Koble down.”

“I don’t know, Mason,” Austin said. “I just want to keep my family safe.”

“There isn’t a safe with this woman in play, Austin,” Mason said. “You know that. And you’re already involved.”

That was true, Austin knew—they were very involved.

“We’ll make it ourselves,” Austin said, only half believing it. “We’ve learned along the way. We’re strong.”

“You are,” Mason said, “but we’re stronger together. We’re always stronger together.”

Austin looked back at the table where everyone was still enjoying breakfast except Amanda, who was watching the two of them and trying not to be too obvious about it. It could just as well have been her talking to Mason, but so far, the commander had spoken mainly to Austin. Amanda had even remarked on it privately to Austin.

“Cathy,” Mason said to a young woman behind the breakfast counter. “Let me take over for the rest of your shift. Maybe you could show these fine people around the base. They got in late last night.”

“Happy to,” she said.

Austin returned to his family, and Cathy led them from the canteen, with Andy at the front of the group, and together they began to explore Skykomish Camp.

“We’ve got a nice place,” Cathy said. “Remote, of course, but that’s what you want, right?”

Austin smiled and tried to enjoy the tour, even tried to think tactically about the settlement’s potential, but his mind kept bringing him back to Mason’s suggestion. He wanted to stop Koble, but he’d already flown too close to the sun too many times. Nearly lost the people he loved too many times, and he wasn’t prepared to drag them into a rebellion.

Amanda had sensed his unease, of course, but she didn’t say anything. She just held on to his hand and squeezed as he wondered how to later broach the subject of their involvement.

Stay, or go?

Fight, or run?

For now, he just tried to listen to Cathy’s bubbly commentary and enjoy the smiles on his family’s faces. It was best to enjoy it all while he could.

You never knew what was around the corner.

5

Cathy knew the camp from top to bottom, and Amanda couldn’t believe what a wealth of information the woman had already proved to be, even if almost all of it related to the camp’s short history, and little of it seemed relevant to Amanda’s group’s continued involvement with the Skykomish community.

“That’s Mick Wells,” Cathy said.

She pointed out a man whittling, sitting about thirty paces away on a makeshift porch constructed out of wooden loading pallets. The porch led up to a flimsy-looking shed opposite the improvised canteen. He looked up, perhaps a little suspiciously, and then down again to focus on his work. Whatever he was whittling—Amanda couldn’t properly see at that distance—he was intently concentrated on it.

“Is he friendly?” Amanda asked.

“He is,” Cathy said not at all defensively. “I guess most folks here are pretty tentative about newcomers. There’s a lot of suspicion floating around after the exodus from the city.”

“Seattle?” Malachi asked.

“Mostly they’re from Seattle,” Cathy said. “I am.”

They changed course and headed toward another building somewhat smaller than the canteen but brick and mortar, unlike most of the dwellings. Most of the camp residents were staying in more temporary-looking structures like Mike Wells’s shed.

“That’s the schoolroom,” Cathy said. “It’s actually a couple of rooms, but we call it that ’cause calling it the schoolhouse would be too confusing, you know? Even if the schoolhouse is really the canteen.”

She chuckled at her non-joke.

“Can we take a look?” Andy asked.

“Sure,” Cathy said.

“Have you had traitors?” Amanda asked plainly.

Cathy began walking again. She smirked at Amanda’s question but didn’t meet her eye.

“I don’t know about that,” she said, “and for all that I know about this place, about its people, I haven’t been here all that long.”

“You do know a lot,” Austin said.

Amanda thought that sounded a little more accusing than would’ve been helpful. Austin obviously felt the same way and offered a weak smile to follow it up. Cathy, for her part, didn’t miss a beat.

“I talk to people,” she said. “Just like I’ve been talking to you. And I already know a few things about you, wouldn’t you say?”

Amanda gave a conceding nod.

“Out of Kentucky,” Cathy said, “and you picked up Malachi from some kind of Christian revivalist group—boy, you must’ve had some journey, kid—”

Malachi smiled, a little embarrassed.

“—through Idaho, and now to Washington,” Cathy said casually. “And by the look of you, I’d say you’ve been through a heck of a lot on the way.”

“We have,” Austin said. “And I bet you have too.”

“Not in the same way,” Cathy said.

She stopped again, even though they were still only halfway to the schoolroom, and pointed out a couple of small sheds next to each other, only less than half the size of Wells’s flimsy home, but much more ruggedly constructed.

“See those?” she asked pointing.

“What are we looking at?” Austin said lightly.

“The armory,” Cathy said. “I’ll tell you that ’cause I don’t think you’re going to screw us over, but I don’t doubt you could if you wanted to.”

“So why trust us?” Amanda asked. “You do trust us, don’t you?”

“Well,” Cathy said, her tone becoming more serious. “I’m showing you the armories. We’re gonna take a look at the schoolroom.”

Amanda bit her lip, a sudden odd chill passing through her.

“I’d say that constitutes some amount of trust,” Cathy said. “Don’t you?”

“It does,” Austin said. “And we appreciate it.”

Inside the schoolroom, a lesson was in session. Two women were teaching a small class of children—the oldest looked to be in their mid-teens and the youngest looked little more than five years old. All sat cross-legged on the floor. One of the women was leading the class while the other sat at the side and was getting stationery and worksheets of some kind ready for the students.

There was a large easel in one corner that reminded Amanda of one she had used for painting in her free time in college, only it had sheets of construction paper on it. Just as the group came in, the women sitting off to the side brought out a large map of the Pacific Northwest and stuck it to the whiteboard with two strips of duct tape. Amanda hadn’t kept up with the painting, but she’d always liked maps. There was something pleasingly definite about them, even if they were, technically, ever-changing and prone to go out of date.

“This is the Western Seaboard,” the woman leading the class said, using a yardstick as a pointer, “and it covers all the way down here to our neighboring state to the south. Which is what?”

Some of the older kids rolled their eyes, but a small blond boy, one of the youngest there, put his hand up.

“Corey,” the teacher said.

“Oregon,” he said confidently.

“That’s right,” she said. “The Beaver State.”

“Because there are beavers?” Corey asked.

“There are beavers all over the place,” one of the girls said.

“Well,” the teacher said, “I guess beavers are just more important in Oregon!”

Amanda was happy to find herself smiling and realized she’d forgotten the simple pleasure of seeing children just being together. It was surreal to be back in a classroom after all the years that’d passed since her own schooling, but it still felt like a familiar comfort.

It was good seeing Andy with the dogs or with the occasional other kid around his age, at Grangeville or at the Golden Harvest Farm they’d found on their frantic run through Idaho away from the boy’s uncle, the fanatical maniac Zeke.

Zeke was dead, and by her own hand, but somehow it wasn’t enough. Things were still wrong. The fact that something so simple as a class full of children struck her as novel only highlighted how far they were from the old world of ordered, structured society.

“Okay,” the teacher’s assistant said. “I think it’s time for a classroom break.”

Some of the kids stood from their places on the floor almost before she’d finished the sentence, but she clapped to gain their attention again.

“You may have noticed we’ve got some visitors,” she said. “Kids—and I know some of you don’t want to be called kids anymore, being teenagers now—this is Austin, Amanda, Savannah, Andy, and—”

She paused, and Amanda suppressed a grin.

“I’m sorry, honey,” the assistant said, “what’s your name? Michael or Michaelangelo or something like that?”

Some of the kids sniggered.

“Malachi,” Malachi said with enunciation almost scathing in its deliberateness.

“Malachi,” the assistant said lightly. “A beautiful name.”

“Hey,” Corey, the blond boy, said, “you’ve got a dog!”

Maggy stepped forward from Andy’s side, obviously excited at the prospect of a new friend.

“Two dogs,” Austin said. “Hey, Russ!”

A moment later, the Bernese ran forward, and that was all the encouragement Maggy needed. The kids soon had both dogs surrounded, and the animals loved it. They got a fair bit of attention from Andy, but this was a feeding frenzy.

Amanda noticed the teacher looking apprehensive.

“Don’t worry about them,” Amanda said, “they’re very loyal, and great with kids. They know they’re among friends.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she said, still watching the kids.

“Andy,” an older boy said, “are both these dogs yours?”

Andy shrugged. “I guess,” he said. “Ours. We all look after them.”

The boy nodded, sweetly impressed. “Neat,” he said.

Andy gave a small, grateful nod. “Amanda,” he said, “do you think I can hang around here for a bit?”

Amanda glanced at Austin, but she knew it was fine. It could only do the kid good, and it’d probably be good for the rest of them to meet someone new. It’d been a long time since the great influx of people from Seattle and other nearby urban centers had waned. It might’ve been almost as long a time since Skykomish had welcomed any new arrivals that included children.

“We can stay with him,” Malachi said. “Right, Savannah?”

“Sure,” she said with a wry smile. “I always loved geography.”

Cathy suggested that Austin and Amanda continue the tour.

Maggy and Russ stayed behind with the kids, but even by the time Austin and Amanda departed the schoolroom with Cathy, both dogs were getting worn out from the excesses of attention from the kids.

Walking on, they saw groups of people toward the east side of the camp taking part in training exercises. Some of them were doing calisthenics—jumping jacks and squats. Others were working with free weights while others were scaling a simple but sturdy-looking rope wall climb, scrambling up one side and descending the other at impressive speed.

“Keeping busy,” Amanda said.

“They’re good, aren’t they?” Cathy said. “I think that’s A-group, the first that started the training routine when the camp was formed.”

She pointed out another group of people running toward them from the camp’s west wall.

“And that’s C-group,” she said. “That’s Sophie Lannestar at the front, one of the newest recruits, though they’re all pretty new, truth be told.”

“No weapons?” Austin said. “I don’t see any guns.”

Cathy shrugged. “We have some,” she said. “I showed you the armory.”

“What have you got?” Amanda asked.

Cathy looked away at the group advancing toward them head-on at a slow jog that made it look like they were barely making ground at all. “Not much,” she said. “Definitely not enough to train this lot, that’s for sure.”

Austin gave a sympathetic sigh.

“Some of the seasoned fighters we’ve got are ex-servicemen and women,” Cathy continued. “We’ve got some old National Guard veterans.”

“It’s a good thing they didn’t side with Koble,” Amanda said.

“Many did,” Cathy said. “But these stayed, or left, I guess I should say. They came here, and now they help protect us.”

“From Koble?” Austin asked.

“Koble,” Cathy said. “And whoever she can send our way. We used to think the raiders—gangs, you know—were just random looters. Now we think they’re being organized.”

“Probably,” Austin said. “Most, anyway.”

Amanda could see Hank at the front of C-group, running backward and shouting words of encouragement, or maybe scorn, at the puffing pack of recruits.

“And there’s Hank,” Cathy said.

Hank waved at them, and Cathy waved back.

“I think they’ll be sparring next,” she said.

“Sparring?” Austin asked. “Like boxing?”

“It’s mixed martial arts,” Cathy said. “I guess that’s just what it sounds like. Hank likes to get them right into it once they’ve finished a run.”

Amanda laughed. “Don’t even try to tell me he’s not ex-military,” she said.

Cathy laughed and didn’t even bother to reply. Hank and C-group were within earshot now, and the voice of their leader was audible above the low rustle of wind in nearby trees.

“Nice run, everybody,” he said.

They stopped for only a moment and then gathered into a rough circle as Hank and another man, who Amanda heard Hank call Stanley, began to engage in mindful combat. They exchanged body shots and grappled, and it was clear that Hank was experienced. Within a couple of minutes, Hank had Stanley flat on his back.

Stanley stood, visibly happy, the way any new practitioner of a combat sport became when they’d been humbled and learned a valuable lesson.

“I think Hank remains undefeated in the camp,” Cathy said.

“I can see why,” Austin said.

“Very nice, Stanley,” Hank called to the group, some of whom were still clapping. “Why don’t we take a short break—Stanley, join us when you feel up to it—and I’ll be back in fifteen.”

The group happily accepted that offer, and some sat right then on the ground while others began doing stretches. Some were even jogging on the spot, perhaps not wanting to risk cooling down before the end of the workout. Hank walked toward the three of them and was joined by Davis, the greasy-looking man who’d been with Hank in the truck when Amanda’s group had first been picked up.

“Howdy, folks,” Hank said. “Glad you got see a session in progress.”

“We’re glad too,” Austin said. “Looks like hot work out there.”

“It takes the edge off the fall chill, that’s for sure,” Hank said.

“Smart,” Amanda said smiling.

“I should properly introduce Erik Davis,” Hank said.

“Hey, Davis,” Amanda said.

He grunted in response, a quiet, rude sound.

“Winter’s on its way,” he said. “It’s only gonna get colder. I’d have thought you’d be headed south.”

“Hard to know,” Austin said tightly. “We’ll stay a while, if you’ll have us.”

He nodded gratefully to Hank, who returned the gesture.

“You’ve been very kind with the hotel,” Austin added.

Davis momentarily squirmed in place.

Amanda knew Austin well enough to hear him having to carefully adjust his tone away from matching Davis’s snide drawl. He’d been getting better at that too. Contrary to what she might once have imagined, people skills were absolutely necessary for getting along in the new world. It wasn’t always about firepower and determination; sometimes you just had to be the nice guy.

“You’re more than welcome,” Hank said.

Davis muttered under his breath and stalked away from them and away from C-group, which was now mostly on its feet again.

“You’d be best off ignoring that,” Hank said. “I can only apologize, but frankly I’m more interested in hearing what you think of the camp so far.”

“It’s good,” Austin said. “And I’m intrigued by the training program. You’re more organized than I’d expected.”

“I don’t see how else we’ll stand a chance,” Hank said. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I really need to get back. The recruits are getting restless.”

“Keep ’em sweating,” Amanda said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Hank said.

He returned to his people, now all on their feet and ready to continue. Amanda couldn’t help feeling impressed that out of the mix of experienced and green-eared recruits, not one among them seemed to be slacking.

Cathy picked them up again and led them to a huge greenhouse, previously hidden by a row of trees in the center of the camp. Amanda hadn’t even thought the camp stretched this far initially, but that those trees marked one edge. Inside they were surrounded by greenery, and Cathy gave them a tour of the produce.

“We’ve got peas, kale, spinach, green onions, all kinds of herbs,” she said. “We’ve got radishes and lettuces now.”

“Wow,” Amanda said. “And this is definitely the place to do it.”

“We’re very proud,” Cathy said. “But we haven’t managed quite everything. Still no luck with the celery. All the things I’ve already mentioned grow in just a few weeks, which has suited the way things tend to be ’round here. I guess you’d say—”

“Frantic,” Austin said.

“Yeah,” Cathy muttered, “You could say that.”

“What about a water supply?” Amanda said. “I haven’t seen anything nearby.”

“Oh, there’s the river, not three hundred yards from here,” Cathy said. “It’s set in a gorge running down from the mountains, which is a natural barrier against flooding. It supplies the well just behind the greenhouse, and that’s our source of water. And there’s plenty of firewood nearby, obviously.”

Amanda looked out at the green expanse of woods around them. Somebody could get lost for days walking in there if they wanted to—or if even if they didn’t.

“No kidding,” she said. “But was the greenhouse here before the EMP?”

“To be honest,” Cathy said with a wry smile, “yes, it was. It was a marijuana farm before, and then we took it over. I wasn’t with them then, of course.”

“Who was here then?” Austin asked.

“Davis was one of their delivery drivers,” Cathy said. “He knows the roads around here better than anyone, and that made him valuable to the group in its early days.”

“And still,” Austin said.

“Of course,” Cathy said. “He can be a jerk though. You don’t have to pretend otherwise.”

Austin gave an apologetic nod and shrugged.

“Let me show you the well,” Cathy said.

She led them out back, and once they’d seen the well, she left them again. Together, Austin and Amanda walked past the well to a rotting wooden bench beneath a large tree at the true edge of the camp. The air was cold and crisp, wet with the mist of the forest that seemed to be everywhere on the mountains.

Austin took her hand, squeezed it, and she squeezed back.

“This might be our best chance,” she said. “Forming an alliance.”

He was silent.

“We can’t do this alone,” she said.

“No,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean these are the people to do it with.”

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But our guard’s down, of course. We’re comfortable here, but we don’t know how far Koble’s reach is. She could have people here, maybe all of them.”

“I don’t see it,” Amanda said. “I don’t see a direct threat, but any community is a liability with Koble in the mix. Attaching ourselves to these people, we don’t know what that will bring.”

Austin was quiet for a long time. They could hear another training session happening behind them, then they turned and saw another company jogging around the perimeter of the camp. In a few minutes, they’d be passing.

Amanda knew whatever problems they had, they weren’t definite or concrete. Ultimately, it came down to a decision between action and inaction. Staying and working together or getting back out on the road, nomads in the wild.

“Have you got a better idea?” she asked.

She’d said it with total sincerity, and now his eyes shone as he regarded her.

“No,” he said. “Do you?”

“No.”

“Let’s do it then,” Austin said.

With the trainees still a hundred yards off and slogging toward them, Amanda gripped Austin’s neck and kissed him for a long time.

It was the best she’d felt in days.

6

Savannah wouldn’t have minded watching Malachi playing catch with Andy and the other kids for the rest of the day.

It was peaceful. Even though she knew there was much to see around the rest of the camp, and she’d feel more comfortable once she knew more about the place and the people. The peace was broken when Maggy, suddenly filled with an irrepressible desire to chase after the ball, bolted for it and knocked down a woman carrying a basket of what looked like shreds of green fabric.

“Oh, lord!” Savannah yelled.

She rushed forward to help the woman, who surprisingly had a smile on her face and was laughing before Savannah had even helped her to her feet.

“I’m so sorry,” Savannah said. “She’s never done anything like that before.”

“No harm done,” the woman said. “No harm at all.”

Andy ran over, a horrified look on his face. “Ma’am,” he said, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Think nothing of it, son,” the woman said. “As long as they can still get up, I reckon it’s good for folks to get knocked down once in a while!”

“I don’t know about that,” Malachi said, obviously embarrassed.

She swatted the air with one hand and began filling the basket back up with the shreds of material that’d spilled from it. Both Savannah and Malachi bent to help her, and before long they had every bit back in the basket.

“I should probably introduce myself,” the woman said. “I’m Sarah Baker, and I guess I’m the camp medic. And if this isn’t irony, then I guess it’s something similar.”

Savannah made the rest of the introductions and shook the woman’s hand.

“What is that?” Malachi asked looking at the basket. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Lichen,” Sarah said.

“Like moss?” Malachi asked.

“Like lichen, son,” Sarah said with a kind smirk. “Usnea is the fancy name, but my father always called it old man’s beard. Moss is just a regular plant, granted a very old kind of plant, but lichen is actually a symbiotic relationship between algae and fungi. Almost like a sandwich of the two.”

“Whoa,” Andy said.

“Andy,” Savannah said, crouching down to his level, “I think your new pals are missing you.”

He turned back and saw the other kids watching him, then looked down at Maggy by his side. Russ had gotten bored with the break in the game and was lying on the ground just in front of the steps to the schoolroom.

“Sure,” he said.

The game resumed, and within seconds, Russ was tempted out of his rest.

“I mean, why bother with the lichen?” Malachi asked Sarah. “Is it some kind of insulation or something?”

Sarah laughed. “It’s for herbal remedies,” she said. “You’d be surprised how effective the most innocuous things can be in a pinch. If you’re interested, you should drop by the medical center. I’m there most of the time I’m on shift. Man, it still feels weird saying that. Before this gig, it’d been a while since I’d had a job, you know.”

“Of course,” Savannah said.

“Turns out electricity kinda runs the show, huh?” Sarah said. “C’mon, let me show you.”

“You go ahead,” Malachi said. “I’ll watch the kids.”

Savannah followed Sarah to a modest building just past the schoolroom. Inside was a small but competent-looking lab with a small stovetop, different machines, and countless bottles. Some were empty, and others contained liquids, both clear and vividly colorful.

Sarah pulled a strip of lichen from the basket and tore it over an empty bowl so that the strip became finely shredded.

“Lichen’s been used medicinally for thousands of years,” she said. “It’s got antibiotic properties, and the core inner thread even has immune-stimulating potential.”

“Do you eat it?” Savannah asked, feeling the soft, wet pieces between her fingers.

“Mostly I process it into a powder or poultice or make it into an oil that can be applied topically. That’s the most practical way to use it, I figure.”

“So, what would it treat?” she asked. “If it was rubbed into the skin, say.”

“All kinds of things,” Sarah said. “Look at this.”

She handed a small unlabeled tube to Savannah, the kind she’d seen before containing topical creams or ointments from a pharmacy.

“Squeeze a little onto your hand,” Sarah said.

Savannah did, and the viscous, white-green oil came out. It didn’t smell all that unpleasant, but deep and musky. Just like the forest.

“It’s good for wounds,” Sarah said. “Flesh wounds. Lacerations or even bruises. Also infections—bacterial, of course.”

“No way,” Savannah said.

“Yep. And it’s effective, I must say.” Sarah tipped the bowl of lichen shreds onto a large cloth, folded it over, and pressed down to help it dry. “You can use fresh or dry usnea to infuse oil. Here, I’ll show you.” Sarah took a piece of the usnea, which looked like tiny, stringy vines or miniature tree branches to Savannah. “You can usually find usnea growing with other lichens, the ones that are flat, or look like leaves. Best to take it from fallen branches or bark though, for sustainability. A little can go a long way. Okay, now look.” She pulled apart a small branch of the lichen, and inside was a white, elastic-looking core. “Fresh will be stringy. Dry might break, but you can use either.”

She set the lichen on her cutting board and started chopping it. “As fine as you can get it,” she said. “Once upon a time, a blender would have worked great for this.”

“I bet.” Savannah nodded.

When Savannah had chopped the usnea to Sarah’s apparent satisfaction, she dropped it into a jar, then searched around the space until she found a second jar, this one filled with a warm-colored oil.

“Sunflower oil,” Sarah said, waving the jar in Savannah’s direction. “You can use any oil you want, of course, but it’s not like we can just pop down to a grocery store for extra-virgin olive oil anymore.”

Savannah really didn’t know much about different kinds of oils or even how to make them. Maybe that would be another thing she could ask Sarah about.

Sarah opened the jar of the oil and poured some in on top of the lichen. “You want twice as much oil as lichen. Now it’s ready for heating.” She grabbed the jar and set it in a pot on a wood stove before lighting the fire. She turned to Savannah. “Heat the unopened jar in a small pot of water for around three to four hours. Then it’s ready to use! Or you can store it for later. Once you have the oil, though, you can mix it with something like beeswax to form a salve, and you’re ready to go.”

“Amazing,” Savannah said. “And you knew about this before?”

Sarah swatted the air once more. “I knew some,” she said. “My father told me things, but I doubt if he ever had cause to do any of this himself. I guess he just went to the store like most everybody else.”

“So you make a lichen salve, and then no more infections?” Savannah asked.

“I’ll knock on wood to that,” Sarah said, rapping once on the wooden cupboard door.

“What’s that smell?” came Malachi’s voice from outside.

He poked his head in. “Seriously, what is that?”

“Cooking lichen, kid,” Sarah said. “Or something like it.” She laughed and handed Malachi a small jar containing some of the already processed salve. He sniffed it and grimaced.

“Smells—” he thought for a moment. “Medicinal.”

“That it is, kid,” Sarah said. “I guess Savannah can give you a rundown if you’re interested. Worth it, especially if you’re in the habit of getting yourselves hurt.”

Malachi smiled meekly. “Your dad’s back,” he said to Savannah. “We should probably get going.”

Savannah nodded and thanked Sarah before they left. She turned back once and saw the woman locking the door to the lab, carrying the empty basket as she walked back toward the residential section of the camp.

“This place keeps surprising me,” Savannah said.

“You and me both,” Malachi said. “But hey, the kid’s definitely happy.”

When they got back to the schoolroom, they found Austin and Amanda outside with the dogs and Andy. Most of the kids had been picked up by their parents, or whoever looked after them, and Savannah couldn’t believe the day was already ending.

Austin and Amanda walked ahead with Andy while Savannah and Malachi brought up the back. Sometimes she wondered if Malachi would try to hold her hand, but he didn’t. She suspected he was just being polite, or maybe he was nervous. She didn’t want to complicate things by pushing them forward herself.

For now, she just walked with him, their footsteps crunching on gravelly ground, falling in and out of sync.

“I wonder what we’re gonna learn next,” she said softly.

“I honestly have no idea,” Malachi said, “but I still feel like some people don’t want us here.”

“It’s what they think we’re bringing,” Savannah said.

Malachi looked at her, confused.

“Trouble,” she said.

“Trouble?” Malachi said, shocked. “We’re trying to help these people.”

“It’s been a long time since someone from outside might’ve tried to help them, Malachi,” she explained. “Remember how we see strangers on the road? Heck, how we saw Hank and the others when they came to pick us up? You’ve got to suspect everybody.”

“I hate it,” he said.

“Me too.”

She knew that was the world now, and she’d told herself that innumerable times before. At the moment, it felt even less comforting than it usually did. All she could imagine was the day when Koble was defeated, and when this chain of violence and disorder might finally come to an end.

Beyond that was the pipe dream of a rekindled organized society, but who knew what form that would take, and who might fill the power vacuum left behind by someone like Koble? Who might seize the apparatus she’d wielded with such deadly results?

That was all wrapped up in the dream.

More like a nightmare, she thought.

Then again, nobody knew what was to come. For that to be a reprieve could have seemed a nightmare in itself. Instead, with Koble’s war machine on the advance, her grip tightening across the northern states—and who knew where else—there was something almost comforting in the chaos.

It isn’t set, she told herself. It isn’t set.

7

Austin was sitting in the canteen, relieved and more than a little surprised to find himself happy to be there.

After the tours and picking up Andy and the other two kids from the schoolroom, they’d had a chance to freshen up and share what they’d learned about the camp. Savannah had a lot to say about the woman Sarah Baker and her skills with herbal medicine, and Andy didn’t have much to say about geography at all.

It was good to see the kid smiling and talking about other kids for once—and then Austin realized he’d barely seen the boy engage with others his own age before. Just a little whenever they’d been in Grangeville, and even then, it’d seemed like slim pickings. Out there in the suburbs, always harried by the roving bands of looters, most parents guarded their children well. Instead of staying in distracted by technology, they were staying in distracted by nothing.

Just the fear and the paranoia that ran rampant.

Here in the closed-off camp, he was becoming aware of a growing sense of security. And, contrary to what he might’ve expected, even that made him nervous. Like he was being lulled into a false feeling of safety.

“How many people are here?” Malachi asked across the table.

Amanda looked up from her plate, held up her hand, and didn’t speak until she’d swallowed her mouthful. “Just over a hundred and twenty,” she said. “There is a fair number of kids, but there are lots of able-bodied fighters here.”

“Not many weapons,” Austin said. “Able-bodied or not, they’re not gonna get far without firepower.”

Amanda nodded. “They’re lucky they’ve got career soldiers in their ranks,” she said. “For the National Guard to join them too, that’s good luck in action. It’s obviously having an improved effect on their training.”

“There’s a nice mix from the sound of it,” Savannah said.

“The location’s solid,” Malachi said. “Natural defenses, obviously. Only two roads lead up to it, and some of the kids mentioned a bridge that’s been fitted with explosives.”

“Really?” Austin said, surprised.

“I know,” Malachi said. “I guess they trust the kids enough to tell them that.”

“They’re raising them ready for conflict,” Savannah said. “No sense lying to them.”

“They mentioned a river too,” Malachi added, “but I didn’t see it.”

“It’s low,” Amanda said, “in a gorge apparently, and that’s only gonna help protect the camp. It’d slow down any of the enemy trying to gain access.”

“Strategically,” Austin said, “it’s much better than I’d realized.”

He dug into his food—canned turkey meat fried in spices and mixed into his mashed potatoes. Of all the food on offer tonight, the fresh peas cooked with mint were the best part. He looked up just as Hank arrived at their table.

“Hi, folks,” he said. “I hate to interrupt you like this, but I’d very much like it if you’d attend our meeting tonight.”

Austin agreed.

Before they went in, Austin called a quick family meeting. He and Amanda sat on chairs in the hotel room while Savannah, Malachi, and Andy sat around them.

“What are you feeling about this place?” Austin asked.

There was a brief pause while they each thought.

“I like it,” Malachi said. “I don’t know if these people know exactly what they’re dealing with, or maybe only some of them do, but I think they’re trying to do something good.”

“It’s nothing new,” Savannah said, “but then survival is nothing new. I don’t like our chances out there by ourselves as much as in here with other people just trying to get by.”

“So,” Austin said, “if it comes down to it, you kids would stay here?”

“Sure,” Andy said.

Savannah and Malachi looked first at Andy, and then back at Austin with sure expressions.

“Amanda?” Austin said. “What do you think?”

“We don’t know them,” she said cautiously. “Not properly. But they don’t know us either, and in the fight against Koble, I say we could do with a few more friends.”

“Even if not everyone likes us?” Austin said.

“Especially if not everyone likes us,” she said. “Eventually they will. They’ll see, just like we’ll have to see that we can trust them. This isn’t just about cooperation. It’s about life and death. It’s about family.”

Austin nodded. “So,” he said, “with that in mind, let’s see what the meeting’s all about.”

The meeting was in the schoolroom. Inside, it was almost packed with people, and Alastair Mason stood on a small platform at the front with a map of Seattle on the whiteboard beside him.

“Please take a seat,” Mason said. “Everybody, have a seat. We’d like to get started.”

Everyone settled down, and a hush came over the congregation.

“First off,” Mason said, “we have some new arrivals to introduce. Austin Merryman and Amanda Patterson are here with us now, along with Savannah, Malachi, and Andy. Not to mention their two fine animals, uh—”

“Russ and Maggy,” Amanda called happily.

“Right!” Mason said lightly. “Russ and Maggy. We’d like to formally welcome you to Skykomish Camp.”

Mason began clapping, and then the rest of the people joined in. Far from the unfriendly atmosphere he’d noticed on their first arrival, Austin now saw most of the faces smiling at them. Perhaps Mason’s favor was worth more than they’d expected, even after hearing of his esteem within the community.

“Now, on with business,” Mason said. “I’ll go over how the meeting’s gonna work, and what’ll be covered in tonight’s discussion. After we’ve hit all those points, we’ll open up the floor to questions and discussion.”

Hank walked up behind them while Mason was giving an outline of the evening’s conversation and whispered into Austin’s ear.

“This is gonna be pretty dry for the most part,” he said. “I don’t think Andy will be too well entertained, and to be frank, my own boy, Ben, could do with meeting someone new. Mind if I introduce them?”

“Sure,” Austin said. “Aren’t you gonna be here?”

“I helped Mason with the scheduling and discussion points,” Hank said. “I’ll be in the loop.”

Austin checked that the plan was okay with Andy, and he was visibly relieved at having an excuse to get going. Austin watched Hank lead the boy over to another about Andy’s own age. They bumped fists and walked out together, the two dogs following closely behind.

“We are fighting a war,” Mason said dramatically. “Not one of us could do it alone, and I can’t promise you victory, even with everybody working together.”

Austin thought that if the meeting was to be dry, it certainly hadn’t started that way. Mason had a charisma on the platform that gave the impression of a respected statesman talking to a stadium full of supporters rather than a couple dozen people in a classroom.

“What I can promise,” Mason continued, “is that we won’t lie down. We’ve seen too many communities fall to the gangs or Koble, and I’m sick of hearing people pretend they’re two different things. We know better than that now, and if we’re gonna have any hope of stopping these people, we need to acknowledge the threat is bigger than we’d previously imagined.”

People were nodding. Austin looked sideways at Amanda, and she glanced back at him, not giving anything away.

“If our plans to connect with the base at Tacoma go through,” Mason continued, “we’ll have greatly increased our numbers. Who knows what other benefits that might give us?”

He got quiet for a moment and then looked up and spoke sincerely.

“We won’t lie down,” he repeated, “and we won’t live on our knees.”

So far Austin hadn’t heard anything he didn’t already know. He figured the rhetoric was about protecting morale rather than trying to propagandize—Mason was still obscuring the true bleakness of the situation, whether intentionally or not. Koble had the guns and the numbers to take control of the grid. It was just a matter of time.

Won’t live on our knees, Austin thought. There was a part missing from that phrase, and it was die on our feet. Perhaps morale just wasn’t strong enough to give the crowd the entire couplet yet. Any of the fighters would be aware they faced mortal danger, but the alternative wasn’t much better. Once Koble controlled the ebb and flow of electricity in the region, her influence could become strong enough to turn friends against friends and each community on its neighbors, until all her enemies were vanquished.

“Austin,” Mason said.

Austin looked up, his thoughts interrupted.

“Would you mind coming and telling us a little about NEXUS?” Mason asked. “Most people here don’t know much about it.”

Austin stepped up onto the platform, and Mason stepped down. Austin looked out at all the expectant faces and realized just what they were expecting: reassurance.

“You want answers,” he said, “and I may have some. But I still don’t know a lot. In this fight of Koble’s—and I agree with Mason, it is her fight—ignorance is about the most powerful weapon she has against us. Whatever coordination we can achieve, we must.”

“What is NEXUS?” someone called from the back.

Austin looked out but couldn’t tell who’d asked the question. It didn’t matter; he was addressing the whole crowd.

“NEXUS is a sophisticated power grid,” he said. “We—that is my family and I—first became aware of its importance to Koble while we were in Spokane, speaking to Sam Novak. He was a scientist who worked on the grid, and a friend to your own Alistair Mason.”

“A great man,” Mason said.

“He was,” Austin said. “He stressed in no uncertain terms that NEXUS could provide Koble with the momentum she needs to totally dominate the northern states. It’ll start here and in the Midwest. After that, who knows? Whoever’s running the juice will be running the show, I think that much is clear.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” a woman asked.

She was in the front row, holding a mug with both her trembling hands.

“I’m sorry, ma’am?” Austin asked.

“Would that be so bad?” she repeated. “If Koble was running things and we had power, wouldn’t life have a better chance of going back to normal? I mean we have no power at the moment, and how much longer can we keep doing this? Not just us but the whole country?”

There were some grunts of agreement.

“I mean, why don’t we just take her up on it?” the woman asked.

More sounds of accord.

“Go ahead,” Austin said casually. “But then I will be far from here, and so will my family, and so will anybody with any sense.”

The woman raised one eyebrow.

“I don’t mean any offense,” Austin added, “but once Koble’s taken control of NEXUS, she has no obligation to actually supply anyone with power, and why would she? It’s leverage, and it’s a kind of leverage no one else will be able to compete with.”

He was torn. Immediately after speaking, he knew that the scenario he’d just mentioned, getting his family as far as possible from Koble’s influence, seemed simpler than taking up arms against her. Simpler than helping these people do that from a less central role. Inevitably, he’d get sucked back in.

Still, some things were just too important to leave to someone else—as much as they tried, Mason and Hank just didn’t know Koble like he did—like his family did. She had chased them partway across the country, and she hated them. He believed that. Eventually, even after she’d assumed control of the region, she wouldn’t forget.

He believed that too.

The woman’s eyebrow had dropped, along with the rest of her expression. With her hands still shaking, she slowly reached down and put the mug on the carpet between her feet.

“We’re all desperate,” Austin said, “but let’s not make decisions that we know are mistakes. It’s just not worth it.”

He took the room’s silence then as a good sign that they were ready to listen to reason. If they hadn’t been, their stay in Skykomish might have ended up being a very short one.

“And that’s not even the only factor,” he continued. “With all the power of the grid, she might just use it to control missiles, and that could include nuclear weapons. Even as the world ended and all those government people—or almost all of them—ran home to protect their own families, those warheads were still sitting somewhere. We can’t forget about them.”

More silence. Austin saw Hank’s face among so many others, watching him intently from the back, waiting for him to continue.

“I haven’t,” he said. “And I guarantee you, Koble hasn’t. If I was in her position, I’d be thinking about those kinds of weapons every day. Monopolizing electric power’s the first step, but with what could well be the only functioning nuclear arsenal in their control, there’d be no guaranteed deterrent against using it. And we know Koble’s used to taking extreme measures.”

“Nukes?” a man in the front row said. “That’s insane.”

“It’s completely insane,” Austin said, “but true.”

After a few moments spent blankly staring into the distance, the man nodded. The crowd whispered among themselves, and Austin could see they were becoming dismayed. He looked at Mason, who was stone-faced and not about to look back. He had to tread carefully and not risk alienating everyone in the meeting through sheer panic. At the same time, he wanted to give an accurate picture of the threats they faced. If he sold them lies, they might desert when they were most needed—when things got really bleak.

“We should take her out,” another man said, suddenly standing up. “Send a small team, heavily armed, and just kill her wherever she lives. Where does she live?”

Some other people stood, and Mason stepped forward. He was about to speak when Austin raised one hand and called out to the room.

“Please,” he said. “Please, remain calm.”

To his further surprise, they listened. Even Davis, whom Austin hadn’t noticed yet, was quiet and attentive at the back of the standing crowd. He had a miserable expression on his face, like he’d just been informed he’d be serving a whole life sentence for a crime he didn’t commit.

Lighten up, buddy, Austin thought. We’re all lost, but someone’s gotta know the directions.

“Sit down,” Mason said to the clamoring audience. “We’re going to finish this discussion, and yes, that’s something we can talk about.”

There were a few quiet grumbles, but steadily, those who’d stood returned to their seats, and Mason retreated. He raised his hand from the back of the room, and Austin called on him to make his point.

“We’ve sent scouts,” Mason said. “We’re trying to get a position on Koble at the moment, but it’s difficult. Reports from our own people and others we’re working with indicate that she moves around frequently and according to no discernible pattern. She knows she’s a target, and she’s not taking chances.”

“So, we’re trying,” the man who’d suggested the assassination said. “We’re already trying to do that.”

Austin shrugged. “We’re trying to win,” he said. “But that’s why we need to prioritize interrupting Koble’s attempts to take control of NEXUS. Once that happens, we won’t be able to compete. We’re talking spy planes, heavy bombers, sophisticated comms. It would be like the US military taking on a stone-aged society with a couple of automatic weapons.”

It was laughably sinister, but no one was amused.

“That brings me to one of the most important points I’d like to talk about that’s got nothing to do with NEXUS,” Austin said. “Weapons. You—we—need more. A lot more. Your armories don’t have enough to arm even half the recruits you’re training, and have you got anything heavy duty?”

“Like what?” Hank asked.

“Mounted guns,” Austin said, “heavy machine guns, even.”

“Not much,” Mason said openly. “And we’ll need more ammunition, that’s for sure.”

“Where can we find more?” a woman asked. “We’ve done runs locally, but everywhere’s stripped out.”

“It’s out there,” Austin said. “But we might have to look farther and make more contacts. If connecting with Tacoma is a go, they might help. But that’ll require establishing trust. On both sides.”

With that, Austin stepped down. He took his seat again next to Amanda, and she put her hand on his knee.

Mason took his place again on the platform and walked to its edge, to where the map of Seattle was. He lifted it, folding it over the back of the whiteboard and revealing the map of Washington used just hours earlier during the kids’ geography lesson.

“We’ve received information about a supply route used to ship weapons and ammunition to the inner city,” he said. “It’s going straight to Koble’s forces, but if we intercept it, it could be quite the payday. Not to mention depriving Koble’s people of some serious firepower.”

Austin’s heart thudded inside his chest. He was glad to be sitting down because he suddenly felt a little faint. There was a plan already in motion, and already it sounded riskier than he’d have liked. Even then, he already knew it was probably worth it.

Mason began to outline the mission.

“The supply convoy will be traveling along the Nine south from Arlington to Seattle.”

He traced his finger along the map, showing the expected route the convoy would take, and then jabbed his finger at the center of Seattle—the cargo’s supposed destination.

“We need to hit them before they’re into the city,” he said. “Once they’re past the city limits, they’ll have snipers in buildings, roadblocks, and we just won’t have the mobility we need. Game over.”

Austin’s heart was still thudding, and with the silence in the room, he imagined everyone else could hear it too. Slowly, he put his hand on Amanda’s, hers still on his knee. He gripped it and gently lifted it to rest on his own chest. She felt his heart and rested her head on his shoulder just momentarily.

“I know it sounds risky,” Mason said, “and it is, but I need volunteers.”

Austin looked around the room and only saw one hand in the air. It was Savannah’s. He felt a flood of mixed emotions. Fear, even anger, but pride too. He wouldn’t stop her. Wouldn’t scarcely be able to now they’d shot so many bullets together, dodged so many more.

“I’ll go,” she said.

Mason looked nervously at Austin.

“I can shoot,” Savannah said confidently. “Not only that, but I can shoot well. Lord knows I have the practice. I’m fast on my feet, and I’ve got plenty of scouting experience.”

“This isn’t just a scouting trip,” a woman said. “We’re talking about a hijacking, and you know with the kind of cargo they’re carrying they’re gonna be sportin’ automatic weapons, maybe worse. High-tech shotguns, maybe even munitions, I don’t know.”

Austin looked over and recognized Sarah Baker, the woman Savannah had mentioned as the camp’s medic—the one who was into making herbal medicines.

“You want volunteers,” Savannah said to Mason. “You’re looking at one.”

“Austin?” Mason said. “Is that okay with you?”

Austin thought for a moment, and though he hadn’t been sure before about helping Skykomish Camp in their fight, all that he’d seen since arriving told him that these people were struggling just as they had done. They’d fled, many of them from urban centers or suburbia, as he and his family had. Now they were here, eking a living off the land and just trying to avoid capture or destruction by the newly forming power structure.

He looked at Amanda, and she gave him a quick, shallow nod.

“If you’re fighting against Koble,” he said slowly, “I’ll help. We will help. It’s more dangerous out there now, and I wouldn’t want anyone from this camp trying to make it by themselves.”

“So,” Mason said, “you’re going back on what you said before? About being done?”

“We’re not done,” Austin said. “Not until she’s done. Until Koble is down.”

There was brief, excited murmur through the crowd, then Mason’s voice cut across it.

“Who else?” the commander asked.

Savannah’s offer had obviously bolstered the room’s confidence for Mason’s audacious plan. One by one, more and more hands went up, including Austin’s and Amanda’s. He wasn’t leaving her to do it alone any more than he was stopping her from fulfilling what she knew was her duty. Malachi had been the first to put his hand up after Savannah’s.

Mason began to select his teams, discussing the selections with Hank as they walked through the crowd now standing and milling around, talking excitedly about the camp’s next strategic move.

“Okay,” Mason said, stepping onto the platform once more. “We’ll begin our preparations in the morning. And I’m sure I don’t have to say, these plans are need-to-know only. Even in this day and age, loose lips sink ships. And if there’s one ship I don’t need sinking, it’s the Skykomish base.”

Austin left with Amanda and found Savannah and Malachi already outside. Malachi was kicking a stick back and forth on the track outside the schoolroom, and it seemed like he and Savannah were having an argument. He didn’t want to intrude, so he and Amanda left together.

The walk back to the hotel was quiet in the evening gloom. Austin knew they were both thinking about the ambush and all the things that could go wrong. They didn’t have the specifics yet, but that would all come with the morning briefing.

Soon they would see the rebels in action while standing with them shoulder-to-shoulder. Austin just hoped the recruits at Skykomish were ready for the kind of fight they were picking.

For now, all they could do was try to get a good night’s rest.

8

Amanda woke first and quietly got dressed for the briefing.

She roused Austin and Savannah, who immediately began doing the same. Savannah and Malachi had gotten in an argument yesterday about Andy, and when all was said and done, Malachi had agreed to stay behind to watch over him.

Savannah crept quietly into Malachi’s room now, and Amanda heard her mumble something to him.

“Be safe,” Amanda heard his quiet voice, and then Savannah came out a moment later.

The three of them left the hotel and headed to the canteen where the briefing was to be held. It was colder this morning than it had been when they’d left the meeting the night before. It’d rained in the night, and now a cold mist rose from the ground. All the trees glistened as the rising sun lit up myriad beads of morning dew.

Given other circumstances, she might’ve felt peaceful, but there was a pit in her stomach.

“You okay?” Austin asked just before they went inside. “You don’t seem okay.”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Nervous, but this is probably the best thing to do.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything.

Inside the canteen, Mason was already there with some of the other selected volunteers gathered around a table at the back. Davis was late and looking even more disheveled than usual. He was also even more grumpy than usual, and Amanda decided it would be unproductive to ask whether he was a morning person or more of a night owl.

He didn’t seem so jolly last night either.

Amanda noticed some of the other camp residents looking frustrated and glaring at Davis as he joined the table last of all. It seemed Davis didn’t have too many friends around the camp, no matter how valuable his knowledge of the local geography was.

She suddenly had a humorous vision of Davis teaching the kids about sedimentary rock and riverbeds, deciduous versus coniferous trees. She saw him collecting worksheets and handing out bathroom passes and had to suppress a giggle. She very much doubted the Skykomish schoolroom bothered with bathroom passes, but the thought still tickled her.

“Well,” Mason said, “thanks all for coming. Davis, is there gonna be one meeting before Christmas you decide to turn up on time to?”

Davis looked up from leaning on the table with both elbows like a lethargic high school kid in a calculus class. “What?” he asked.

Mason sighed and motioned for Davis to give some account of his lateness. Davis only rolled his eyes and motioned back at Mason to carry on.

The nerve of this guy, Amanda thought.

Once Mason began going through the plans, Amanda had the strange feeling of being back in the Air Force. The settings were slightly different, of course. Less administrative, and with the added atmosphere of the canteen’s ever-present scent of cooked meat and vegetables, and with Davis’s own dejected attitude coloring it all that much darker. Still, to be hearing a plan devised and laid out with militaristic precision made her feel better about the whole idea.

The rest of the team, barring Davis, listened with enraptured attention. A man called Tom was even taking notes on a scrap of paper. Hank sat at the back but remained quiet for most of the meeting. Aside from him, there were five other men and two women, all of whom Amanda recognized from the end of the prior night’s meeting. Mason had already gone through brief introductions, but for now Amanda thought about the team as a collective.

Afterward, they’d be able to talk more normally—for now it was all business.

“The convoy will be traveling south from Bellingham on I-5,” Mason said. “That’s two hours after sunrise, and we need to be in position before then. I don’t want to risk missing them, or even worse getting caught exposed in that rough ground.”

“How many vehicles?” Amanda asked.

“Maybe one but probably two,” Mason said. “We’ll have to assume the largest vehicle is carrying most of the cargo, and we’ll want to be in and out of there in no more than three minutes. If the situation’s stable—”

If every one of the enemy are dead, Amanda thought grimly.

“—maybe we’ll be able to take a little longer,” Mason continued. “But I don’t want us getting caught with our pants down if there happens to be another group traveling just behind.”

“Like reinforcements?” asked a man Mason introduced as Paul.

“Yeah,” Mason said. “Or maybe they’ll have split the convoy up in case of—”

“—in case of an ambush,” Davis grumbled.

“Exactly,” Mason said. “We’re expecting five, maybe ten heavies, but I seriously doubt there’ll be any more than that.” He rapped once on the table. “When they get to the Stillaguamish River bridge, there won’t be a bridge. We’re gonna destroy it.”

“How?” Davis asked.

Mason smiled, apparently happy Davis had ultimately decided to take an active part in the discussion, no matter how pessimistically. “We’ll use charges,” Mason said, “just like those on the camp bridge. Except we’re gonna blow these ones for sure, and then they’ll have to turn around and head back to 236 northeast, but that way will already have been made impassable.”

“How do we do that?” Amanda asked.

“We’ll cut trees and block the roads,” Hank said. “Maybe see if there are some junked cars we can roll in the way and then lock up.”

“Exactly,” Mason said. “The convoy will have no alternative except to head back to Arlington and travel along 530 like rats in a maze.”

“More like scared cattle,” Savannah said.

Amanda looked up at her, and so did everyone else.

“Sorry,” Savannah said, “but it’s a point. Rats in a maze, they’re controllable. They can’t run you down. They can’t smash their way through. This sounds chaotic.”

“It’s gonna be messy,” Mason agreed, “but we’re going to control it just as much as we can, miss.”

Savannah nodded.

“So what do we do?” Susan, one of the women, asked.

“We’ll be waiting in the woods a few miles outside of Arlington,” Mason said. “We’ll have IEDs already on the road ready to blow up the leading vehicle. There’s no way they’ll have this cargo riding in front. That would be a tactical nightmare.”

“We’d better hope so,” Amanda said, “or we might be blowing our payload sky-high.”

“At least we’ll take out some of Koble’s,” Davis said, giving a toothy grin.

“And defeat the point of the whole mission,” Amanda said tightly.

“Once the leading vehicle’s down, the convoy will be forced to stop,” Mason said. “One group will attack from the rear, cutting off the cargo truck’s escape. We can use automatics to shoot out tires, even fell another tree if we have to.”

“I’ve still got that gasoline chainsaw,” Paul said.

“The one I once caught you loading with premium gas,” Davis said, chuckling.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Davis,” Paul said. “Get with it, will ya?”

Mason raised an eyebrow and made a quick note with the stubby pencil in his left hand. “Chainsaw,” he muttered. “That’s good, Paul.”

Paul gave him a quick thumbs-up.

“Another group will come in from the front and sides, scattered formation. That’ll reduce the chances we can be taken out too many at a time.”

“We need to shoot through the windshield,” Amanda said coldly. “Try to kill as many as we can before they’re even out of the vehicles. Once they’re out, they’re mobile.”

“They’re caught,” Savannah said.

“Yeah,” Davis said. “Pincer movement, right, general?”

Mason ignored the sarcasm.

“Let’s not get carried away in speculating,” he said. “Yes, Amanda, we’ll fire at the windshields. We’ll pump rounds into those vehicles as long as they’re the biggest targets, and then we’ll take out anyone else.”

“What if they surrender?” Susan asked.

There was a moment’s silence at the table that even Davis didn’t grumble through.

“They won’t,” Austin said. “I’ve seen these people before, and they’re dedicated to this. The way they see it, Koble’s domination of this region is a foregone conclusion. If they desert, they’ll be expecting a bullet in the back of the head while they sleep.”

“If they surrender,” Mason said, “we’ll take them in. We’ll repurpose the hotel bar—don’t look at me like that, Davis—and lock them up in the pantry. Lord knows it’s big enough.”

Amanda nodded, hoping the conversation would move on. This topic wasn’t an efficient use of their time because she knew, as well as she suspected the rest of them did, that they wouldn’t be taking any prisoners.

“I don’t feel bad saying,” Mason said, in a tone suggesting he did feel at least somewhat bad, “that if we don’t make it back from this, I don’t have much hope for the rest of the community moving forward.”

There were murmurs of agreement.

“Even if we do make it back,” he continued, “if we don’t have more weapons, and I’m talking a small arsenal, then attacking Koble head-on is gonna be a suicide mission.”

“We’ll get the weapons,” Austin said. “And we’ll make it back.”

“All of us?” Susan asked.

Austin stood from the table. “Show me what you’ve got, Mason,” he said.

“Hank will be able to explain better,” Mason said. “Hank, would you mind?”

Hank led Austin, Amanda, and Savannah to the so-called armory, the two storage sheds they’d seen before. Both were stocked with weapons, including an assortment of different rifles and shotguns, a few crossbows, and a few assorted boxes of ammunition. Amanda picked up a box at random and gave it a gentle shake. It felt only half full, if that.

“Yeah,” Hank said. “We’ve already dipped into most of those. Had to, really, because we have to use what works with each of the rifles.”

“The shotgun shells are fairly well stocked,” Savannah said.

“Not many boxes though,” Amanda said.

“Generally, our people try to avoid encounters that’d make the shotgun necessary,” Hank said. “That’s been a point of policy while we’ve been training the newer recruits.”

“Smart,” Austin said.

Amanda lifted one of the crossbows and was astonished at how light it was. She hefted it with one arm and whistled low.

“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Hank said. “Weighs about six pounds and got a draw weight of about a hundred. Quite the tool for hunting, you know, especially small game. You ever use one?”

“Not for hunting,” Amanda said. “And not for combat.”

“Nor me,” Hank said. “Almost makes me feel a little sick to think about. Though I don’t imagine a bullet’s all that much more humane.”

“Is that what we’re going for?” Austin muttered.

“I guess not,” Hank said. “What have you folks brought with you?”

“Just what we handed in on arrival,” Austin said.

“Have you got any more stashed?” Hank asked.

“You know how we got here, Hank,” Amanda said. “We crashed. We’ve got what’s in our bags and the shirts on our backs, plus everything you confiscated.”

Austin sighed and turned away, looking out into the harsh, brightening morning sun. “We need more,” he said. “Which means we need this to succeed. And without the ammo, we’re going to have to make sure we get it right in a hurry.”

Hank looked inside a plastic cabinet low in the right-hand weapons shed and pulled out two of the IEDs they’d be using to sabotage the bridge. They were primitive but well put together. They comprised mortar shells duct taped together with a thin metal line wrapped around the propelling charge. Amanda had learned about similar IEDs being used in the Middle East while she’d been in the Air Force. There was a simple wristwatch attached to each one, fastened around the thinner edge of the mortar shells, and then duct taped on for extra security.

“You look like you’ve seen this kind of thing before,” Hank said.

“Kind of,” she said. “Not for a long time.”

“How do we detonate them?” Savannah asked. “Just set timers?”

“We’ll want to have them share a fuse,” Amanda said. “We can’t risk one of them not detonating properly.”

“Okay,” Hank said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Where did you get the mortar shells, anyway?” Austin asked.

“A military truck crashed on one of the mountain roads only days after the EMP hit,” Hank said. “We think they must have been ambushed, but by the time we got there the vehicle was already ransacked. We found these in a nailed-shut wooden box under the carpet in the bed. I guess they were being transported on the sly, or someone had forgotten about them.”

“So you’ve been saving them,” Amanda said.

“That’s right,” Hank said. “For a special occasion.”

Savannah looked over the rifles once again, trying to find one she thought would be suitable.

“I’ll stick with the AR,” Austin said. “If I can have just one of these magazines, Hank—”

“Help yourself,” Hank said. “We’re just thankful for the assistance.”

“I’d like this one,” Savannah said.

She’d lifted an attractive Remington bolt-action rifle from one of the sparsely stocked racks. She smiled, evidently pleased with the weight of it in her hands.

“The Remington,” Hank said thoughtfully. “I won’t even bother asking why.”

“It reminds me of my first time shooting,” Savannah said. “Remember, Dad?”

“I remember, honey,” Austin said. “Happy?”

The Remington was a break-action, and Savannah pushed the barrel to expose the loading cavity. She snapped it shut again a moment later, and it gave a satisfying click. Amanda chose an M4 carbine poking out from a crate of mostly smaller, lighter-duty weapons.

She checked the carbine to ensure it was unloaded, then clicked the safety on out of pure habit. She checked the charging handle was working and squeezed the trigger to make sure the hammer didn’t fall—it didn’t. She changed the mode selector to semi-automatic, charged the weapon, and squeezed the trigger—the hammer fell. She released the trigger slowly and heard it click back into its resting, forward position. Finally, she changed the mode selector to automatic and charged the weapon a third time, then pulled the trigger again—the hammer fell again.

“It’s good,” she said. “I wouldn’t be so worried about a bolt-action, but these automatics can be a killer in the field. Jamming, and other mechanical failures. Even overheating.”

“Only too true,” Hank said. “And I don’t wanna be taking any chances.”

“No more chances anyway,” Austin said.

Hank chuckled miserably.

“Good luck with the M4,” he said. “There’s a bit of history to that weapon.”

“Oh yeah?” Amanda asked.

“Here,” Hank said, handing her a box of ammunition. “That should be enough for this little outing. It was our last commander’s weapon. I managed to bring it back after he—”

Hank seemed suddenly to become distracted by something a long way off, and then after a few odd moments managed to pull himself back.

“—after he was gone.”

“I’ll look after it, Hank,” Amanda said.

He put one hand on her shoulder, and since both Amanda’s hands were full, he left the padlocks to the sheds with Austin.

“Lock ’em up, would ya?” he said. “We’d better get ready.”

There was a distant shout and the rumble of an engine from just outside the camp. It was the truck they’d been brought to Skykomish in after the crash, and the team was almost ready to depart.

Amanda and the others marched toward the idling truck.

9

The sun was still barely up by the time they arrived at the ambush location.

Hank rolled the truck off-road and into the thick bracken where it could be best hidden from watchful eyes. Amanda knew the convoy would be expecting trouble. At least they should be. As soldiers of Lydia Koble’s proposed New World Order, it would be naive, indeed stupid, for them not to.

“You think they know we’re coming?” Susan had asked.

Amanda had smiled, gripping one of the grab handles overhead in the back of the truck as the bumpy road jostled them left and right.

“Of course not,” she’d said. “They don’t know. They might think, but that’s all. I doubt they’ll be surprised, except maybe when we come at them all at once.”

“Guns blazing,” Susan said distantly.

“Basically, yeah,” Amanda said.

“Just try to relax,” Austin said.

He was trying to soften his face, and Amanda wondered if any of the others could see how false it was. Out of the people there, only Savannah knew Austin enough to see right through it, but she was fixed straight ahead on the ragged truck’s canvas.

“Okay!” Mason called from the front. “Davis and Paul, IEDs, let’s go!”

Davis grumbled and went to get up while the other man, Paul, leaped to his feet, seemingly on a surge of adrenaline, and jumped down from the truck. Davis followed after him, easing himself down to the ground like a bear just coming out of its winter dormancy. He reached back for the small satchel containing the munitions, and Austin handed it to him.

“Thanks,” Davis muttered. “Wish us luck then.”

Amanda nodded and watched the two men jog off a way down the road, where they installed each of the IEDs about a yard in from each side of the narrow road. Unless the convoy spotted them—which wasn’t likely—there wasn’t a chance they’d miss.

“Okay,” Mason said, “the bridge is cut off, and they can’t go the other way, so they should be here. Time to take up position.”

They all got out of the truck, checked their weapons, and readied to get into position. Austin called Savannah and Amanda to him quickly. Hank stayed close to Mason, and they covered each other as though they’d done it dozens of times before.

“If something goes wrong,” he said, “we’ll meet here by the truck.”

“And if the truck is compromised?” Savannah asked.

She talks differently, Amanda thought, like this is who she is now. It was not a wholly comforting thought, but it was good to know the girl wasn’t always like that. Only when the occasion called for it, and being prepared and pragmatic was much better than the alternative.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” Amanda said simply. “It’s not really anything we haven’t done before, is it?”

Austin didn’t seem convinced. “If anything does happen—”

The distant but certain rumble of approaching engines interrupted him, and then Mason was yelling at them to get a move on.

The convoy had arrived.

From their crouched position in the woodland and brush just off the road, they could see the lead vehicle. It was a black Humvee, and it was barreling down the road, splattering water and mud out from its sides as it went.

“Ten seconds,” Amanda muttered.

She could hear Susan breathing hard and quickly beside her and reached with her hand to hold the woman’s arm. Her breathing calmed. When the IEDs detonated, Susan jerked back. The Humvee was thrown violently upward and left, and then the team was running into position, shooting as they went.

There’d been four personnel in the Humvee, so it wasn’t even fully occupied. Amanda and Susan opened fire on the windshield. Susan was a good shot, despite her nerves, and soon the windshield was riddled with bullet holes. Amanda had expected protected glass, but they were close now, almost at point-blank range, and the glass was no match for the high-velocity M4 and Susan’s carbine.

“Short bursts!” Amanda said. “See if we can finish this on one magazine!”

Not likely, she thought.

Mason and Austin had emerged from the sides and were shooting in through the side and back passenger windows. Some of the soldiers inside had hunkered down, but if the glass wasn’t protected Amanda doubted the Humvee’s bodywork would put up any more resistance. It might have offered protection against lighter arms or even the wide spread of a shotgun, but not against the rifles.

There were shouts from behind the Humvee, from the other members of the team. Savannah was there with the others and signaling the approach of another truck. The team ran off the road and jumped into cover as the trucks

screamed to a halt about thirty yards behind the smoking Humvee. There was the clatter of rifle fire, and soldiers poured out the back of the truck, stumbling over one another as the team in hiding began to open fire once more.

“Get them while they’re together!” Savannah called.

Amanda saw her jump up from her crouching position and run full pelt toward the road, firing as she went. The soldiers returned fire, and Savannah took a bullet in the leg, but managed not to fall down.

“Savannah!” she called.

The girl managed to get around the front of the truck, and by then Austin and Mason were there. Savannah sheltered behind the front left wheel arch of the truck while Mason took care of the driver. Austin kept up the covering fire, and then Mason was disinfecting and binding Savannah’s leg.

“Keep shooting, woman!” Susan yelled.

Amanda did, then slotted in a new magazine. “Reinforcements!” Amanda called. “Time to pull back.”

She saw Mason helping Savannah away from the road, still somewhat covered by the truck. They were almost at the tree line. Amanda grabbed Susan’s shoulder and felt the woman flinch, then come to her senses and join her in making a break for the woods. They were held back by enemy rifle fire and forced to stay on the wrong side of the road, taking cover behind the Humvee.

They passed Paul’s body just before they reached the hood. He’d been shot through the neck, and his eyes were already glazed over.

“Don’t look, just keep going,” Amanda said.

“Look out!” Austin screamed.

Amanda lurched to get behind a thick, gnarled tree trunk just off the road, and then it was riddled with bullets from the other side. She looked left and could see Austin across the road just where the woods began. He was prone, covered by a thick tangle of jutting roots. Savannah was blind firing now, having swapped her rifle for Mason’s submachine gun.

“Jerry’s down too,” Amanda said. “And we already saw Paul. How you doing for ammo?”

“Not good,” Susan said. “Halfway through my last magazine.”

Bark splintered off the trunk as they tried to remain behind it as centrally as possible. At least if anyone got close to them, they’d be an easy target for the rebels still hiding in the trees. Amanda could smell burning wood mixed with the fresh petrichor of the forest.

“Amanda!” Austin called.

She hoped he wouldn’t run out, because that would be almost certain death now. But then she saw the look in his eyes and knew he would, it was just a matter of exactly when. Yet another truck had pulled up behind the last one, and though it seemed to contain fewer reinforcements, with their dwindling ammunition, any more of the enemy might well prove too many.

“Savannah,” Amanda called. “You stay there!”

“Not going anywhere!” the girl yelled back.

“What about us?” Susan said frantically.

“Austin’s coming,” Amanda said. “And we need to cover him.”

She took a chance and reared up above the trunk, taking out two approaching soldiers and giving Austin the chance he needed to reach her. There was barely room for the three of them behind the trunk, but Amanda was still covering them with gunfire. She dropped down again and felt Austin’s hands on her shoulders.

“We’re good,” he said. “I’m almost out though. You?”

“Same,” Amanda said. “Susan too.”

“Same for all of us,” Austin said. “We gotta finish this now.”

“The tires,” Amanda said. “We need to shoot the tires.”

“Humvee’s done for,” Austin said.

“Forget that,” she said quickly.

“Get out of there!” Hank called. “We got more coming in now!”

“I need to get her out of here!” Mason yelled. He was covering Savannah now, and the girl was gripping her bound leg. She needed medical attention, and they had a shot at getting to their own truck.

“Go on our mark!” Amanda yelled.

She saw Mason would hold position. “Shoot the tires on the first truck,” Amanda said to Austin and Susan, “so they won’t be able to follow us.”

“And what are you gonna do?” Austin asked.

“The rear one,” she said.

He knew there was no time to argue. She could see it in his eyes, and she loved him for that, even if it was a weird kind of love she’d never dreamed about as a girl. With the bullets flying, the screams, the smell of blood and gasoline in her nostrils, she knew it was real.

“Your turn to cover,” she said. “Susan, you too.”

Susan nodded.

Amanda counted a quick one, two, three.

“Go!”

She saw Mason and Hank helping Savannah back toward where they’d parked in the brush.

Susan and Austin jumped and immediately began firing at the new wave of approaching soldiers as Amanda ran a wide arc off the road, making for the truck. She heard the suspension on the front truck groan as Austin and Susan shot out the tires. With pistols, the rounds would probably just have bounced off, but the rifle made short work of them.

The plan worked, and most of the soldiers hadn’t even noticed her quick change of position. They were firing back at Austin and Susan, surely once again under cover and now being covered by the rest of the team shooting from the woods. Amanda took out one man who had focused on her, firing wildly with the M4 in one hand.

She raced to the truck, now emptied of enemy personnel. The keys were still in the ignition, and the truck was still running. The driver, shot in the forehead, was slumped over behind the wheel. She wrenched him out so he fell to the muddy asphalt. The soldiers ahead of her were caught totally unprepared. They’d still been focused on the two-front attack from Susan and Austin and the others in the woods.

Amanda slammed the truck into their tight formation twenty yards behind the first truck, now compromised with no inflated tires. Once they were down, she kept going, stopping the truck between Susan and Austin’s position and that of those hunkered down in the woods.

“Get in!” she called.

They ran from the woods, and Austin ran across the road, firing. Once they were all in, Amanda heard someone—she thought it was Tom—slam twice on the roof at the back of the truck, and then she hit the gas.

Under a barrage of shots, with the screaming truck tires beneath them, they made their escape.

10

When Savannah came to, the first thing she noticed wasn’t the pain in her leg but a slamming headache.

It hurt to even open her eyes. The sunlight was impossibly bright, but then she felt a fresh breath of air on her face and was suddenly just happy to be alive. She could see Malachi standing by the window and realized she was in the hotel room. He’d drawn the drapes wide and now was looking sheepish and guilty about waking her.

“Sorry,” he said, “but I think you need the fresh air.”

“It’s nice,” she croaked. “Wow, I was out.”

“You were knocked out,” he said. “Chemically, anyway. Mason gave you a shot, a painkiller or sleeping serum, I don’t know. Said you were in agony on the way back. At least they dug the bullet out while you were out.”

“And I’m guessing you weren’t there for that,” Savannah said, smirking.

“No way,” he said. “If it was anyone else but—”

He broke off, and she felt guilty until a new, frantic realization gripped her. “Wait,” she said, “how long have I been here?”

“Just a couple of hours,” he said. “Mason said the drug would be fast acting. I guess you’re still pretty groggy.”

“Are the others back yet?” she asked.

Malachi shook his head. “They’ll be here,” he said. “Austin and Amanda will take care of themselves, and you saw them going for the truck, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, “I think so.”

“Well, that’s what Mason said they were doing. Right now, I just want to know you’re all right.”

“Hey,” she said touching his arm. “I’m okay, right?”

He nodded. “They disinfected it,” Malachi said. “Your wound, I mean.”

Savannah’s smile spread wider. “Gotta love that moss, huh?” she said.

“Old man’s beard,” Malachi said, sounding a little happier.

“The more you know,” she said.

She touched her leg and found it packed with the lichen. There was another smell on it, like ethanol. She could see impressions in the skin around the wound and knew it’d likely been bandaged until very recently. Sarah must have applied the usnea less than an hour ago.

“Where’s Andy?” she asked.

“He’s fine,” Malachi said. “He’s with the dog. I think me and Hank did an okay job of reassuring him. Russ’s got him for now—you know how he loves that dog.”

She smiled sadly.

Through the open window, they heard someone yell about a vehicle approaching. Together they went down the stairs, and Savannah was surprised that she could take weight on her leg, but she still needed to walk carefully. The drugs had made her oddly numb, though her thoughts became clearer with each passing minute.

It’s them, she thought. And if it’s not, then that’s bad news.

Once outside, they saw the army truck pulling into the camp through the open front gate, and Amanda was behind the wheel. The truck looked huge up close, and it was a good thing it wasn’t carrying more reinforcements, considering that its capacity was probably half again that of the more heavily occupied first truck.

Austin was already welling up as he got out of the truck and ran to Savannah, but she didn’t cry. She just threw her arms around his shoulders as she’d done before, and now she would have a chance to do again. There was always a next time—and always would be.

Until there wasn’t.

He gripped her tight to him, and then Amanda joined the hug.

“You’re back!” Andy cried.

He ran over and high-fived Austin and hugged him, then shuffled around to hug Savannah and Amanda. He held onto Savannah’s hand and didn’t let it go. Some of the families of the team members who hadn’t made it back—Paul, Jerry, and others—were approaching. As they realized their loved ones weren’t there, Savannah saw faces crack and tears begin to appear before the wailing, the screaming, the receding back indoors.

Mason was grim-faced, watching them all.

He muttered to a rebel soldier standing beside him, and then the soldier followed a dead man’s crying wife, now a widow. It would be best for the community to stick close together for a while now, but there could be no victory without sacrifice.

After debriefing with Mason and giving an account of themselves, Austin and Amanda returned to the hotel room for a change of clothes and to tell about their harrowing journey.

“What took so long?” Malachi asked. “Didn’t you take the same way back?”

“We were forced to turn back,” Austin said. “After you’d gone, Koble’s remaining soldiers made a stand by the Humvee.”

“I hit it in reverse, and we just backed out,” Amanda said. “Only thing I could do. It’s lucky we weren’t shot from that distance to be honest.”

“Did Susan make it?” Savannah asked.

“She did,” Austin said.

Amanda told them about their journey back through deserted roads. Some of them near the turnoff to the mid-sized town of Hazelwood were littered with burned-out or abandoned cars. They had to navigate slowly through that, comforted by knowing the soldiers behind them had no functioning vehicle to pursue them with.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Amanda said, “but it was slow going.”

“Andy,” Austin said, “why don’t you take the dogs to settle down for a while? I think they’re probably feeling restless with all the unusual activity around camp.”

“Sure,” the boy said.

They’d spent a long time catching up, and now the sun began to descend in the sky. Savannah knew it would be nightfall in an hour or two.

“Get back before dark,” Amanda said. “Otherwise, just enjoy the clear air, my boy. And remember to let them sniff around—it’s good for them.”

He smiled weakly and then went slowly down the stairs.

“Let’s go down to the bar,” Austin said. “Savannah, will you be okay?”

“I’m good,” she said. “Malachi, can you give me a hand?”

He did.

They sat around a table at the end of the hotel bar, and some of the campers brought them refreshments, including beer, ginger ale, and even a couple cans of Coca-Cola, which they shared. Savannah made sure to keep one reserved for Andy later on. The special part, at least for Malachi, was the salmon. The woman who’d brought it explained that they fished it fresh most days from the Skykomish River, and they’d grilled it to perfection. But only after marinating in garlic and chili powder.

“I think it’s best from there,” the woman said. “Though it’s much the same from the Sultan or the Wallace. At least the bears seem to think so.”

That amused just about everybody.

Eventually, the talk turned darker. Austin said they’d gone through Hazelwood and had seen evidence of the same looting and violence they’d seen before. The stores were ransacked, and there were bodies in the street, just left there. Like it might’ve been the site of a battle, or like the town had been raided and there’d either been no survivors or any survivors had fled, never to return.

Not even to bury their dead.

The Washington rain might’ve washed a little of the destruction away, but there was so much that couldn’t be erased. In Hazelwood, there’d been a shopping district with its storefront boardwalks protected from the rain by tarp canopies, and there were blood spatters all over the pinewood planks. More bodies were visible through the smashed or shot-out store windows, and some still gripped rifle butts, but it wasn’t worth stopping to scavenge.

Besides, even with all they’d seen and done, it just didn’t feel right.

“What I want to know is why Mason didn’t know how many soldiers were gonna be there,” Amanda wondered. “Seems like a lot of guys, even to protect a decent payload?”

“Was it?” Malachi asked, draining his bottle of ginger ale.

“Was it what?” Austin asked.

“A good haul?” Malachi asked.

“Lots of weapons,” Austin said. “Lots of ammo too. Just what we wanted.”

“Too many dead,” Amanda said bitterly. “What are they gonna think of us now, just because we acted on Mason’s intel?”

“We agreed to the plan, Amanda,” Savannah said.

“On bad intel!” she snapped.

Savannah looked down, then felt Amanda’s hands gripping her fingers.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I’m just confused.”

“It’s possible Koble made some changes last minute,” Austin said, peering into his beer bottle. “Though why she’d have done that, I don’t know.”

“She’s crazy,” Malachi said.

“She’s not,” Savannah said. “Not at all. But she does make mistakes. And now she’s lost her weapons.”

“And she’ll come looking for them,” Malachi added.

“How would she know, though?” Savannah asked. “Like, why did she send so many more? There had to be at least twenty guys there.”

“They might have been transporting between bases,” Austin said, “like killing two birds with one stone. Might as well not waste the gasoline.”

Savannah wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t want to give her father too little credit, especially after their ordeal in getting back to Skykomish. The last thing he needed was someone stepping on his toes, and he’d be feeling guilty enough about his own daughter getting shot—even though it wasn’t serious—and losing several members of the community, all for the sake of a few guns.

A few guns that could help them win the war.

“So what’s next?” Malachi asked.

They were all silent for a moment, but Austin reached forward and cracked another beer open. Savannah noticed Malachi watching her with a soft expression, and she met it. Amanda was sharing a bag of chips with Austin. He took a long swig of his second bottle of beer and gave a long, satisfied sigh.

“Next,” Austin said at length, “we see what Mason’s scouts say once they’ve reported back from observing the NEXUS base. Then we’ll know what our options are.”

“Are we gonna go there?” Malachi asked.

“Well, that depends,” Austin said.

“On what?” Malachi asked.

Austin sighed. “Whether or not it’s worth it, I guess,” he said. “Whether there’s anyone left alive, and whether anyone left alive is on our side or Koble’s. It might be that the whole place is wrecked, sabotaged, so no one could get the juice back on.”

“If I was a warlord in a post-EMP world,” Amanda said, “and if I was banking on electricity never sustaining organized society again, I’d probably try to ruin any chance of someone taking control of the grid.”

“Scorched-earth policy,” Malachi said.

“Kind of,” Amanda said. “Only for that to be anything more than regionally effective, they’d need to take out multiple power bases across the country, and that would require organization.”

“Like Koble’s,” Savannah said.

“Only she’s trying to get the power back on,” Austin said.

“Not quite,” Malachi said. “She just trying to make sure she’s the only one who can turn it on.”

Savannah nodded in agreement, and as her dad finished his second bottle of beer, Andy returned with the dogs. Russ and Maggy curled up beside one another on the floor beneath the window in the hotel dining area that looked out over Skykomish Camp.

“It’s getting chilly,” she said.

“Yeah,” Austin said. “And it’s gonna get colder.”

Savannah felt herself becoming drowsy and was thankful of that. Now she just wanted to sleep. With all they were learning and seeing, and now with the new advantage they’d gained, there was so much to think about. It felt like the thoughts in her head might grow like bamboo and force their way out, force her into action.

Instead, she wanted to go to bed, and she didn’t like being the first.

It turned out most of the others were just as beat. They went up together, and Savannah was asleep before she could even wonder if the others were.

11

Malachi slept deeply.

When he’d been in the hotel bar with all the others, hearing about blood-spattered boardwalks and bodies, and about how Savannah had been shot and how the others had been gunned down permanently, he didn’t think he’d be able to able to drift off at all that night.

But he’d been wrong, and sleep had come strong and fast.

He was woken by a loud clanging bell from outside. He could hear someone calling outside and recognized it as Alistair Mason, the camp leader who’d won them all around with his bravery and dedication to the community.

“Urgent meeting!” he was calling. “Can everyone assemble outside please—or everyone who can!”

Malachi rubbed his eyes and then saw the others rousing. Andy had grabbed his pillow and had wrapped it around the back of his head, pressing its sides into his ears in a short-lived effort to block out the rude awakening.

“What’s this?” Amanda asked.

“Let’s find out,” Malachi said.

They all gathered outside, everyone else from the rest of the community looking just as if not more confused. Malachi recognized the widows of two of the ambush team members standing together and felt his heart throb.

At least they’ve got each other, he thought, then felt a burning shame that he should be alive.

That he didn’t even go with them.

“Everyone, hush please,” Mason said. He stood in their midst and waited for everyone to stand still before he started to speak; he wanted everyone to hear everything.

“We need to shore up the walls and be ready to defend the camp,” he said. “If I were Koble, I’d be sending people out. We can’t risk thinking they don’t know where we are.”

“But how could they?” someone asked.

“I don’t know,” Mason said. “But I don’t know they don’t either.”

“Mason,” Amanda said, “people are panicking. What exactly are we looking at here?”

“I don’t have any information that leads me to think Koble’s headed here,” Mason said. “But you’ve gotta admit, it would make perfect sense. All it takes is for one of our people to have been followed, or for someone to let something slip.”

“Has anyone left the camp?” Austin asked.

Nobody spoke.

“I also have no reason to think anyone’s left, Austin,” Mason said. “But I’m not gonna bet the lives of the community, the safety we’ve built for ourselves here, on trusting in Koble not knowing about us. So I’d like to hear your ideas, people.”

There were a few moments of quiet conversation among the campers.

“We could leave the camp,” one man suggested. “If there’s a chance they know about it, why not just move somewhere else in the meantime?”

“We can’t get caught in the open like that,” someone else called scathingly. “The worst thing we could do is leave the only defense we’ve got behind.”

“And that’d be a terrible waste of the weapons we’ve accrued,” Austin said. “We’ve got to stay.”

The man who’d suggested they leave threw up his hands to concede the idea, and the crowd continued discussing possible options. Malachi and Savannah stood together, her still leaning on him a little, absentmindedly brushing the tips of her fingers over the healing wound on her leg. It was uncovered now, to let the air get to it, and the stitches were clearly visible. It’d been a neat job, and Malachi was suddenly very glad for Sarah.

“What about if we put everything into defending the east side?” a woman asked.

Malachi thought her name was Jenny; she worked in the canteen most mornings. She was pleasant enough, and he knew she was one of Hank’s dedicated trainees. He’d seen her at the front of the group running behind him two days before.

“If we barricade the other sides as best we can,” Jenny continued, “we can get all our weaponry and all our fighters to protect the main gate. We’ll meet them head-on, and it doesn’t matter how many they bring, they won’t get through.”

“They will,” Amanda said. “Of course they will, because you don’t know what they’ve got.”

Mason nodded. “If Koble’s ready to launch a full-frontal assault,” he said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she sends in the artillery, literally.”

“A bear pit,” Austin said quietly.

A man between Austin and Malachi looked first at Malachi and then at Austin.

“What you say, mister?” the man asked. “Speak up.”

“What about a bear pit?” Austin said loudly.

The crowd got quiet.

“Like a trap?” the man next to Austin said.

“A trench that’d stop their trucks before the eastern entrance,” Austin said. “They wouldn’t dare push forward or they’d lose that truck and possibly wreck the others right behind it. Either that or they don’t see it in time, and they lose the truck anyway.”

“They’ll be able to climb out, no?” Malachi asked.

“We’ll be shooting by then,” Austin said. “And besides, our priority is taking out their teammates behind them at that point.”

“Visibility is gonna be a problem,” Mason said. “We’ve only got a few tall buildings, and the hotel’s set a fair distance from the eastern gate.”

“What about a tower?” Amanda asked.

The crowd turned to look at her, confused.

“A treehouse or something,” she said. “There’s no shortage of trees around here. You’ve got those thick pines by the gate too.”

“That could work,” Mason said. “Have you built anything like that before, Amanda?”

“Me and my dad used to make treehouses in pines not too different from these ones,” she said quickly. “But we’re definitely gonna need a lookout with a good vantage point in case of an assault on the eastern gate. Right now, we don’t have one.”

“What about protection?” Malachi said. “Anyone up there’s a sitting duck.”

“We’ll make something,” Austin said. “We’ve got enough sheet metal to create a multi-layered shield. Even high-velocity fire won’t go through several layers of heavy-duty material.”

“Let’s get to work then,” Mason said.

The crowd was divided into different groups, with Austin and Malachi working with Hank and a few others to create the bear pit. It was really just a trench across the smaller of the two roads leading to Skykomish Camp, the one that led up to the east gate of the settlement.

“How deep should it be?” Hank asked.

“Preferably almost as high as the truck,” Austin said. “Or as high as the cab. With the cab they’ll be able to climb out anyway. They might even be able to scramble up the side if there are roots, but that doesn’t matter.”

“It’s strategic,” Hank said. “Just to slow them down.”

“And it’s psychological,” Austin said with a smile that unnerved even Malachi. “If they’re scared to advance, that’s good. If they see their comrades fall in, only to get shot, and get shot themselves for gawping too long, that could be devastating.”

Hank raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed.

“So, six to eight feet deep,” Malachi said. “Sound good?”

Austin grunted a yes. “And at least eight to ten feet wide,” he said. “Enough to encompass the width of the road. And we’re going to put stakes at the base.”

“Stakes?” one of the other men asked. “What, like supports?”

“No,” Austin said. “Call it a deterrent.”

The man’s face became horrified.

“I’ll call it impalement,” he said, “because that’s what we’re talking here, right?”

“We’re not gonna win this thing being nice, Ollie,” Hank said.

“I know,” Ollie said, “I just—oh, I don’t know.”

Malachi tapped his foot on the asphalt road surface. “How are we gonna get through this?” he asked.

“You got tools, Hank?” Austin asked.

Hank led them to the tool shed, and Austin directed everyone to collect an assortment of tools including pickaxes, sledgehammers, a large axe, knives, and enough shovels for each member of the team to use at the same time.

Once they were back at the dig site outside the east entrance, Austin and Hank began cracking the road surface with the sledgehammers. Malachi and another man helped rip the cracked asphalt up with a couple pickaxes while Austin marked out the perimeter of the trench with the tip of a shovel, instructing the men to start digging about six inches in from the perimeter marking.

After they’d exposed the soil beneath the asphalt, Austin used one of the shovels to jab at the earth. He found it was soft and figured even the earth beneath the asphalt had been steadily saturated with the fall rain and the moisture that was always on the mountains, and that had made it soft and pliable. It wouldn’t be too hard a job, but the sheer amount of earth they’d need to move was already daunting enough.

It was hard, hot work, even in the chill of the morning. After what felt like about an hour of continuous digging, Malachi hit some rocky ground. The soil on top had been relatively soft and loose, but about a yard down there was harder earth that hadn’t been so penetrated by the rain. He took this as a sign he’d earned a breather.

He spent a few moments watching Savannah and Amanda beginning construction on the treehouse lookout. They were only about fifty yards away, just over from the eastern gate. Savannah’s light hair was dancing in the breeze, and she looked beautiful.

“Malachi,” Austin said, “we need more depth on your side; we’re almost at five feet over here.”

He sighed and got back to work, swapping his own shovel with one of the other men’s pickaxes, and worked to get through the stony earth. It wasn’t hard with the pickax. Soon he’d broken up the hard ground enough to get under it with the shovel and keep digging deeper, throwing the earth up over his shoulder beside the trench.

“Malachi,” Andy called. “Can I try? I’ll be careful.”

The boy was hanging out with the dogs and Hank’s son, Ben, who he’d been introduced to the night of the camp meeting in the schoolroom. Ben was having a great time shaking Russ’s paw over and over, with Russ only too happy to oblige the giggling boy.

“Sorry, little man,” Malachi said. “I don’t think you’re big enough quite yet.”

That wasn’t a lie—Andy wouldn’t even be able to see outside the trench if he stood in it now, let alone be able to wield the shovel properly.

“Besides,” Hank called, “I think Russ and Maggy could do with a hand chasing rabbits.”

“Rabbits?” Andy asked.

“This way!” cried Ben.

The smaller boy started running, and Andy followed, with both dogs running along with the sheer excitement of having somewhere to go.

“There are rabbit burrows on the slopes on the north side, not a hundred yards from here,” Hank explained. “I doubt they’ll catch any. Heck, at this time of morning and this time of year, I’m not sure they’ll see any, but it’d be good for them to get a bit of adventure together.”

“I hear that,” Austin said, breathing heavily.

“Maybe you need a breather there, Austin,” Malachi said.

“What are you saying?” Austin said with mock annoyance.

“All right then,” Malachi said, chuckling, “go ahead and knock yourself out.”

“Maybe I will!” Austin said. “Although the way you were going with that pickax, I’d have thought that’d be your department.”

Then they all laughed.

Even though their task was serious, it was nice for them to be able to enjoy a lighter mood together. There was an inevitable sense of camaraderie among them. Ben and Andy soon came back, having not succeeded at helping the dogs catch any rabbits, and were assigned the new task of keeping the group supplied with water from the well.

“So, Austin,” Hank said, “you ever work construction?”

“Can’t say I have. What about you?”

“I used to shovel driveways every winter in Michigan,” Hank said. “But I didn’t usually have to shovel this deep.”

“No kidding,” Austin said. “And I’m guessing you weren’t shoveling bear pits in the snow.”

“Not that I recall. What about you Malachi? You enjoy a bit of manual labor?”

“I enjoy kicking back and drinking ginger ale,” Malachi said breathlessly.

Hank chuckled, and they all kept shifting earth.

They didn’t keep working for long, if only because they knew that doing so would be inviting injury. They decided to break for lunch just before noon and headed back the hotel bar where Malachi managed to get his ginger ale. Cathy served salad from the greenhouse and some preserved chicken, which was surprisingly good with an olive oil and cider vinegar dressing.

“So, Hank,” Austin asked, still chewing a mouthful, “how did you get to Skykomish?”

“It’s a bit of a story,” Hank said. “But I’ll save the details.”

“I like details,” Austin said. “Details used to be my job, you know.”

“You work for the IRS?” one of the other men said, grinning.

“Nothing that sinister,” Austin said lightly. “No, I was a journalist.”

“No way,” Hank said. “Anything I might’ve read?”

“Probably,” Austin said. “I was at it a couple decades with a variety of publications. Mostly columns and articles. A couple of books, but nothing too heavy. Most of my work was overseas. Conflict zones, humanitarian aid, that kind of thing.”

“Sounds exciting,” Hank said.

“It was,” Austin said. “People used to say it was like being in the army, only you shot photographs instead of bullets.”

“Or instead of people,” Malachi said.

“Well, yeah,” Hank said. “Anyway, I was living in Seattle. I got out of Michigan when I went to college in Olympia and moved to Seattle once I’d graduated. After the EMP, there was chaos for a long time. I moved out of the city pretty early, like most people did, but after a few months, things seemed to calm down. I guess most of the people who got out early stayed away for good.”

“We got the same feeling in every other city we’ve passed through,” Austin said.

“Yeah,” Malachi said, “that’s what they said happened in Grangeville.”

“Grangeville?” Hank asked.

“Idaho,” Austin said. “But carry on, Hank.”

“Well,” Hank continued, “about seven months after the EMP, I’d moved back to Seattle, trying to retain some sense of normality, you know?”

Austin and Malachi nodded, but it seemed the other men on the dig team had already heard this story before. They were still busy eating their salad, but both looked glum. Like they knew what was coming.

“One day I heard a siren,” Hank said. “Sounded like an air raid siren, like you’ve heard in the old war movies. Kamikaze pilots overhead or whatever. People came out of their houses, and I looked through the window, just peeked out of the drapes because I had a bad feeling.”

“What was it?” Malachi asked.

He’d become aware of a strange, tight sensation in his stomach. Like something might rupture inside if he stood up too quickly. But he wasn’t going to stand up. He wasn’t going anywhere until he’d heard the rest of Hank’s story.

“It was a convoy,” Hank said, smiling sadly. “Much bigger than the one we ambushed. Boy, they had trucks and armored cars, even tanks. One at the front and one at the back, I still remember like it was yesterday.”

“What did they do?” Malachi asked.

“Nothing at first,” Hank said. “They just blared that siren and let everybody come out of their houses. Lots of folks thought they were there to help, you know? We’d had looters before. Raiders, gangs, whatever, but these were US military personnel. They had insignia, all the weapons, all the capability. It just looked so right.”

“But it felt wrong?”

Hank nodded quickly. “Once the people were outside, once lots of people were outside, they opened fire.”

One of the other men stood up from the table and trudged off, mumbling about having to take a leak.

“There was just machine gun fire in every direction,” Hank said, “the whole street full of smoke and then screaming, and then blood. They were kicking doors in, firing into the buildings with that darn tank, and then people really started screaming. It sounded like, like—”

He pushed his plate away from him with one trembling hand, and when he spoke again, he spoke slowly and deliberately.

“It sounded like a slaughterhouse. You know how the animals get the sense. They know, they smell the blood of the others that’ve already gone. They don’t know just what’s gonna happen, they don’t know how or why, but they get the sense. But these people knew.”

“Koble,” Austin said so quietly it was almost inaudible.

“That’s right, Austin,” Hank said. “And that’s why I’m in this fight. Koble tried to clear the suburbs of residents. And that’s the word her people used, you know. Clear the suburbs. Darned euphemisms.”

“You captured one?” Austin asked.

“No way,” Hank said. “We questioned him just before he bled out. You know, I think he probably regretted what he did. But—”

“He still did it,” Malachi said.

“I got my family out the fire exit at the back, and we got out,” Hank said. “We just got out and went into the mountains. I already knew about the illegal operation they had going on up here—pretty much anyone with the university in Olympia had heard about the Skykomish grass farm, only I don’t know if they really believed in it.”

“And you’ve stayed,” Austin said.

“Better to do that than starve on the road, or risk capture,” Hank said. “What about you?”

“We’ve mainly been on the road,” Malachi said, “starving and risking capture.”

They all had a laugh at that.

Once they’d finished their break, they returned to the dig site. Austin put Malachi and a burly man called Ethan in charge of prepping the stakes, and the two headed off to the nearby woods to find a suitable tree. Malachi called Andy and Ben over to join them for a quick lesson about how the trap was supposed to work.

Malachi got the boys to remain at a safe distance while Ethan used the axe to cut down a few of the thicker spruce saplings they’d found. Ethan made short work of them, then used the axe to split them into stakes of a suitable size.

“Andy,” Malachi said, “come here. Ben, you watch too.”

He turned one of the stakes over in his hands, using a knife to shear off the rough edges, honing sharp points at each end.

“See, one end is sharp to go into the ground,” he said, “and the other’s sharp to—”

He thought briefly.

“To go into them,” Ben said simply.

Malachi smiled guiltily. “Basically,” he said.

“Can I try?” Andy asked.

Malachi handed the boy the knife and watched him carefully begin to strip the burred surface of the stake so it gradually became smooth. A few times, Andy’s blade got caught on the tiny knots that stuck out, but each time he pulled the blade back to the top and started over.

“That’s right,” Malachi said, “let the knife do the work and keep a strong grip. Don’t tense up anywhere else. Stay nice and relaxed.”

“Is this good?”

“That’s great,” Malachi said. “What do you think, Ben?”

“Looks great, guys.”

Malachi called over to Hank and checked he was all right with Ben having a go, and Hank gave the go-ahead. Ben was almost as good as Andy, if a little more tentative about using the knife. In the end, Malachi finished off a few more stakes while the boys returned to the dogs, who roused from a mid-afternoon nap.

He returned with Hank to the bear pit and found it just about finished.

“Impressive,” Malachi said.

“Yep,” said Austin, studying the trench from above. “I think we should all be proud.”

They used sledgehammers to drive the stakes into the ground, using a plank with a tapered hole in it to secure the stakes before doing so. This way the hammer blows would fall on the plank rather than blunting the sharp upturned tips of the stakes.

Malachi was the last one out of the trench, and Austin gave him a hand up.

“Whatever you do,” Austin said, “don’t fall in.”

Malachi didn’t laugh because the prospect of falling in was about the least funny thing he could think of. They worked together to cover the trench with branches, mud, and finally leaves to disguise it. While they’d been working at it, Malachi was worried it’d end up too artificial, like a big, golden piece of cheese atop a mousetrap.

“It looks fine,” he said.

The others agreed, and Hank ran off to inform Mason. The east gate was to be temporarily off-limits to most of the community, including all the children. Together, the rest of the team headed back, passing through the gates into the camp, some of them turning back to admire their work from a distance. There wasn’t much to see—and that was the point.

As Austin and Malachi reached the hotel, they heard a strange voice behind them.

“Mr. Austin Merryman,” it said, “just what the heck are you doing here?”

Malachi looked at the stranger, who wore a dark trucker-style baseball cap over messy hair, then looked at Austin.

He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

12

“James?” Austin said.

“Who’s James?” Malachi asked, looking at the man.

The man laughed and began walking over to where the two of them were on the porch of the hotel. He removed his hat, and Austin could see him properly, could remember him properly.

“James Carnelly,” Austin said. “Malachi, this is an old friend of mine from my intern days at North/West as a junior reporter. We broke a couple of decent stories together.”

“The Right-Way property scandal,” James said with a glimmer in his eye, visible even in the dying light of the evening. “That was one of my favorites.”

“I can’t believe it,” Austin said. “What are you doing here?”

“No, what are you doing here?” James asked, grinning. “I live here, man. I’ve been on the scouting trip to the power plant. I only just got back. Hey, have you seen the Oasis yet?”

“The what?” Malachi asked.

“The Oasis,” James said, slapping Austin on the back. “Hey, kid, are you eighteen?”

“Malachi,” Austin said, “can you make sure the others are all right?”

Malachi looked uncomfortable, but then relaxed.

“Okay, Austin,” he said. “You know where we are.”

Malachi went inside, and James led Austin to a small building that’d been converted into a bar. It was much bigger than the hotel bar, and James said it’d just been a storage space in the times that the illegal marijuana farm had been operating—but Austin couldn’t smell anything like dope.

Several other people were inside talking and drinking. There were racks of glasses, loads of booze on the shelves. If they’d had armaments to match the stocked bar, they might have been laughing all the way to Koble’s fortifications, knocking them down one by one, all armed to the teeth.

“Where did you get all this?” Austin asked.

“I don’t know who, but someone did a major sweep throughout the neighboring areas,” James said. “They brought it all here. Who knows who, or where, they are now.”

James poured them each a few fingers of bourbon.

“I’d be worried about losing that,” Austin said. “Or about it attracting the wrong kind of attention.”

“Since when were you afraid of a good time?” James asked.

“Looks more like a security risk to me,” Austin said. “And when we knew each other, I could afford to make mistakes.”

“But not anymore?”

Austin took a drink and grimaced.

“I’ve got a family, James,” he said at length. “I don’t only make decisions for myself anymore. I don’t even remember what that was like.”

“Well, I hear you,” James said. “Let me introduce you to our local security risks. Hey, you guys, come over here!”

Austin watched as some of the patrons at the bar began coming over. They were mostly friendly and mostly a little drunk as they introduced themselves or let James do it for them. Only one woman, an older Black woman with graying hair called Joan, seemed outwardly hostile. James had introduced her as one of the camp’s medics, saying she’d worked alongside Sarah since almost the beginning of Skykomish’s occupation by refugees from the EMP disaster.

“I’m Austin Merryman,” he’d said.

And she’d replied, “I don’t very much care.”

“Joan,” James said, “are you serious? What kind of way is that to talk to a guest?”

“Guests eventually leave,” she said.

Austin could only raise his eyebrows in mild shock as the woman walked away. He watched her go and then saw the embarrassed faces on James and the other patrons. He leaned into the table and took another quick sip of his drink.

“I do something wrong?” he asked.

“No,” James said, “no it’s not you at all, man. Try not to take it too personally.”

“It’s her taking it personally,” a friendly woman with short red hair called Emily said. “It’s all on account of what happened to her husband.”

“What happened?” Austin asked.

“He was killed,” James said bitterly. “In his house, by strangers. That’s what she always said. By strangers.”

“And I’m a stranger,” Austin said, watching the woman now slamming shooters at the bar all by herself. “Is that about the size of it?”

“It is,” James said. “And it’s the same for pretty much everybody. She’ll trust us because we’ve been here longer than most, but others, even if you’ve been here a long time and she doesn’t like the cut of your jib?”

He exhaled through pursed lips.

“Tough crowd, huh,” Austin said. “No. I understand.”

“Anyway,” James said, obviously wanting to change track, “I want to talk to you about the scout teams.”

“You just got back, right?”

“I’m part of one of the teams,” James said. “We keep an eye on the surrounding areas.”

“Surrounding areas like the NEXUS station, right?”

James nodded and looked away quickly.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Austin said.

James chuckled a little nervously.

“Come on,” Austin said smiling. “You already knew I’d ask about that, didn’t you? I probably know more than you’d expect.”

“You always did surprise me,” James said. “But yes, I already talked to Mason.”

“So you knew we were here?”

“I knew someone called Austin Merryman was here,” James said. “I just couldn’t believe it was you. I—it’s just been so long. Honestly, I was kind of surprised you were still in the country. You were always globetrotting.”

“But I’m still here.”

“Still here,” James echoed.

“Here to stay,” Austin said. “And what made you stay here and throw your lot in with the rebels?”

James held his hands up.

“I saw what was happening to the people I cared about,” he said. “I saw what Koble did to Seattle, to Olympia, to every darn place around here. And I know it stretches farther than Washington.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Austin said.

“It’s a reign of terror, Austin,” James said. “Mason said you’ve been around, but I don’t know just how much you know.”

“She killed someone I respect,” Austin said. “Almost with her own hand. It was some lieutenant. We saw because—we got inside one of their bases. One of her bases.”

James looked around as though this was something that shouldn’t be heard, but of course that didn’t matter anymore. It was practically ancient history. The horror of Koble was plain everywhere between the Midwest and the Western Seaboard, and by winter her dominion might be fully consolidated.

“You know then,” James said. “You know what it means to hate her.”

“Not just her,” Austin said, “but everything she stands for.”

“So you’re in the fight.”

“Right in it,” Austin said.

Since the EMP, James had spent most of his time in and around Skykomish Camp, so he was eager to hear about what Austin had seen of the rest of the country. Eventually, the conservation turned to lighter things.

They discussed their time working as reporters, different stories they’d developed, broke, or lost together and then apart, and then moved on to family. James had remained more of a lone wolf than Austin, but he’d had his share of relationships to talk about.

After another hour or so, Austin decided to call it a night.

“We’ll speak again soon,” he said, “I promise.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” James said, chuckling.

Back in the hotel room, after a much-needed wash and a change of clothes, Austin sat on the bed. Andy and Malachi were asleep, and Savannah was out on the narrow balcony, watching the night sky darken from blue to black.

“He’s not like I remember him,” Austin said.

“Well, how do you remember him?” Amanda asked.

Austin laughed.

“What?” she asked.

He sighed, shifted over on the bed to sit next to her.

“He was a bit of a playboy, you know? Fast living, and all the things that go along with that. A bit of a loose cannon, to be honest with you.”

“Not like you, then?” Amanda asked.

“Nothing like me,” he said. “I was into the job and wherever that took me.”

“I guess the EMP changed people,” Amanda said. “I know it changed me.”

“Me too,” Austin said.

“Are you glad?”

He blinked, unsure of how to answer.

“Am I glad it changed me?” he said. “I don’t know.”

She squeezed his hand.

“But I’m glad it helped me find you,” he said.

They kissed but were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.

Austin saw Amanda reach for the gun she kept under the bed, just an instinct for anyone visiting after dark, and Austin quickly checked on Savannah. She was still stargazing on the balcony.

“Who’s there?” Austin called.

“It’s Hank. Would you open up?”

Austin opened the door and saw Hank, his face drawn with worry. He was flanked by two others, and they were armed, which wasn’t usual.

“Is everything all right, Hank?” Austin asked.

“We need you, Austin,” Hank said. “There’s an urgent meeting. Mason’s got a plan of what to do next.”

Austin guessed that whatever it was probably involved guns—and probably involved him.

13

The meeting was in a large room in the same old schoolhouse building they used as the canteen.

A couple of large tables had been joined together side to side, and there were several others already waiting. Mason sat at the head of the table, and as Hank motioned Austin to go in ahead of him, Austin saw there was a place for him across from Mason.

Strangely, his automatic rifle was leaning up against the chair with the shoulder strap looped once around the butt and held tightly in place by the weight of the weapon upright on the floorboards.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Have a seat, Mr. Merryman,” Mason said.

“What is this?” Austin asked, not sitting.

“Austin, I can assure you, there’s no danger to you here,” Mason said. “At least not yet, and it won’t be from us.”

Austin sat at the table and saw the grim faces of the others there. Davis’s face was possibly even more sour than usual. He had one leg propped on the other and was picking at the treads of his boots with a hunting knife, flicking bits of dirt and grit onto the floor beside him. James was there, too, and offered something like a smile to Austin as he’d entered, but now he looked anxious. Hank sat last and went beside Austin.

“First off,” Mason said, “some introductions. This is Kate Spelts, a real asset to our camp. She’s got experience with weapons and used to be a cop in—Illinois, was it, Kate?”

Kate nodded and then waved respectfully at Austin.

“Kate was on the scouting party with me,” James said. “But we’ll get to that.”

“And I don’t believe you’ve met Charlie Woods, nor Jake Woods,” Mason said.

Two men at the far end of the table next to Mason smiled at him. The first, Charlie, was a large man with a bushy beard, while Jake Woods was a thin but rakish man currently fiddling with a short length of twine. His smile was as toothy as it was warm.

“These two have been with us from the beginning,” Mason said, “and I’d trust them as much as pretty much anyone in camp. And that’s a good thing because we’ve had news from our scouts in the field.”

The Skykomish commander took a jug of water and walked around to Austin’s side of the table to pour him a glass. The light streaming through the high windows hit the ceramic of the jug just right, and Austin could see a blazing summer’s sun painted on it, faded and barely visible.

“The new intelligence,” Mason said, “is that Koble plans to move the NEXUS central control to a new location.”

“What new location?” Austin asked.

“Well, that’s the million-dollar question, Mr. Merryman,” Mason said.

“And how long do we have?”

Mason looked at James.

“Two days,” James said. “That’s what we can figure anyway, but nothing’s certain.”

“Before we continue,” Austin said, “I don’t think we can have this conversation without Amanda.”

Mason blinked, obviously taken aback.

“She’s welcome, of course,” Mason said. “I’d only assumed you’d want to relay this to your own people.”

“I’m not the leader,” Austin said. “I’m a father, and Amanda’s my partner. We’ve been through a lot together, and she’s got a place at the table. My own effectiveness is halved without her, at the very least.”

“You should have mentioned it at the hotel,” Hank said apologetically.

“To be honest,” Austin said, “I didn’t know what I was walking into.”

“She’s welcome,” Mason said. “Hank, would you—”

“I think I should get her,” Austin cut in. “Otherwise, she might think—”

“Of course,” Mason said, waving his hand and suddenly looking acutely embarrassed. “Go, and we’ll see you back here.”

Austin left the room only a little awkwardly and took up his rifle for good measure. He wondered what Amanda would assume when she first saw it, whether that meant a good development or a bad one, but it felt good just to hold the weapon in his hands. Things were in motion now.

Back at the hotel, judging by the look on Amanda’s face, she was just glad Austin wasn’t dead and that there was no shootout or insurrection underway in the camp. She looked at the rifle.

“Where’s mine?” she said.

“You’ll have it.”

“Secret stuff, huh?” she asked.

“You should be there,” Austin said. “Things are going to start happening, and we need to be thinking together when they do.”

“Let’s go, then.”

They headed for the meeting together, and the others were quiet when they came into the room. Hank and the others on the table’s left side got ready to move down a place each so Amanda could sit beside Austin, but Amanda just thanked them and took the empty seat near Mason at the end.

“It’s good to have you here, Amanda,” Mason said. “You’ll be equally included in receiving new intelligence as soon as possible in the future.”

Amanda nodded politely.

“If I can just say,” Davis said, “if we’re finally ready to get started here—”

“Davis,” Hank said.

“Go on, Davis,” Mason said, “what’s your point?”

“Don’t you think it’s time we got out of Dodge?” Davis asked.

There was a brief silence.

“Leave here?” Austin asked. “Now?”

“Of course,” Davis said, but he was looking at Mason. “We’re sitting ducks here. There’s no telling what this woman knows, what her people know. I’ll bet they know about this place, and I’ll bet they’re already on their way here because—”

“Because they know we can beat them if we’ve got time to formulate a plan,” Amanda said abruptly. “We need to be proactive and start making our own decisions here.”

That took the wind out of Davis’s sails.

“She’s one step ahead,” he said. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“We’ll not leave Skykomish Camp, Davis,” Mason said. “Is that otherwise agreed?”

Everyone but Davis agreed.

“You’ve gotta realize what you’ve got here, Davis,” Austin said. “We don’t stand a chance out there. Not in the long run, and especially not now. We need to remember what’s at stake. This isn’t just us. It’s not just my people or yours or the camp. Koble’s control will be regional, even national if this gets underway.”

“So we make a move,” James said.

“James,” Mason said, “why don’t you give us an idea of what that’ll look like exactly?”

“Happy to, sir,” James said.

James stood up and spoke, pacing back and forth. Those seated watched and listened with rapt attention. All of them save Davis, who mostly stared at his own hands resting on the table, fingers interlaced. At least he looked like he was listening.

“The Snoqualmie Falls plant is vital to the NEXUS system,” James said. “This mission, like other scouting missions we’ve been on, could net us vital intelligence in how close Koble is to getting the power back online. If there are survivors, even workers still holed up there, they’ll be able to advise on how we get the power back online.”

“Is that the aim?” Amanda asked.

“Eventually,” James said, “of course. But we can’t do that while we’re there this time. We just need to see how functional the gear is, and how much Koble’s already stuck her nose into it.”

“Okay then,” Amanda said.

“Now, the Snoqualmie Falls plant has multiple ingresses, but we’re only interested in this one.”

James reached into his pocket and placed on the table a faded blueprint map of what must have been an enormous facility. He jabbed his finger at one corner where Austin could see two thick white lines denoting an entryway.

“The back door?” Davis asked. “That’s original.”

“It makes sense, Davis,” James said. “There’s a huge electronic gate into the main loading area, where they would take deliveries or send stuff off—fuel or waste, new machinery, and so on—but that’s locked up and watched.”

“Watched?” Austin said. “How do you know?”

“There are sentries,” Kate said. “People watching, anyway. We even saw them search the loading area with flashlights. Wind-ups or something.”

“So we’re using this way,” James said, looking down at the map. “It’s narrower and leads right upstairs, right past a generator room. It was the backup generator, so I doubt it would usually have been heavily manned, but after the EMP they probably tried to run it.”

Charlie laughed and then looked embarrassed. James just continued speaking.

“It’ll allow us to get deep into the facility quickly and with a clear way back out. That way we won’t have to navigate most of the building which is—”

“Big,” Amanda said dryly.

“Exactly,” James said.

“Austin, Amanda,” Mason said, “we need your help in planning this. You’ve had success before. Escaping from Koble’s people, multiple times, I’d add. And evading them afterward, not to mention what you said happened at Felts.”

Austin remembered the smell of gun smoke coming out of the final bastion Koble’s people had made of the airbase before he and the others had stormed it. He remembered the last man’s face before his dying breath and felt a little sick.

“It’s not just that,” James said. “I mean, it is that, of course. It’s that you know Koble. You know her, her methods, her people, and you have respect for what has to be done here. For what’s at stake.”

Austin sighed, not sure of what to say, but only because it was all true.

“Let’s be honest,” Mason said, “you’ve saved lives. You don’t leave people behind. So what do you say? Will you help us?”

James took his seat, and there was silence.

“We will,” Amanda said, then turned to Austin. “Won’t we?”

Austin nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “We will.”

There was a palpable sense of relief at the table, even with Davis back at scratching at the sole of his shoe. James’s face beamed, as did Kate’s. Mason and Hank looked like a great weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Mason let out a sigh that left no doubt.

“Davis,” Hank said.

Davis didn’t look up from his work. The knife slipped off one of the rubber tracks on his boot and rang metallically for a moment.

“Davis,” Hank repeated sharply. “You wanna listen and be a part of this meeting, or do you wanna take that outside?”

Davis put the knife back in its sheath without looking up and repositioned the sheath to the side of his belt. He glanced up at Hank and then briefly around at the others before standing up and making his way outside.

Hank seemed even more annoyed than before, but Mason’s face was more one of wounded embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” Mason said, “and I’m sorry to myself for still apologizing for that jerk. Pardon me.”

“You’re pardoned,” Amanda said, laughing. “He’s a real charmer, huh?”

“He has his moments,” Hank said through gritted teeth, “believe it or not. His knowledge of the local geography and roads is unparalleled. In this case, we cannot be without him.”

“Fine,” Austin said. “What about others?”

“You two,” Mason said looking between him and Amanda, “plus Kate and Jake here, and Earl Manning. He’s on night watch right now, and that’s the only reason he’s not here.”

Together, Mason and James laid out what plan they’d already discussed, and everyone else contributed. By the end, Austin felt they had something workable. They needed a way in, a way out, and a backup plan—most of the time going much beyond that was asking for trouble. Most plans fell apart as soon as bullets started flying, so it was essential to not let the plan get too complicated.

Once they finished their discussion, Mason stood up again, did an about-face, and looked at them all. He put his hands together thoughtfully and spoke slowly.

“We should remember what’s at stake here, friends. Austin was right before. This isn’t just about our lives or even Skykomish. This is an event, and these are times that could define the future of our country. Of our world.”

With that, they adjourned.

Mason stood at the front and waited for them all to clear out.

“I’m going back to the room,” Amanda said. “I’ll wait for you before I tell the others.”

“I’m not looking forward to that,” Austin said.

“They’ll be okay,” Amanda said. “Nothing they haven’t heard before.”

“I don’t know if that’ll go over as well this time.”

He watched her go, then James came up to him.

“Austin,” he said. “Thanks.”

Austin regarded him.

“For coming to the meeting,” James said. “For agreeing to help us, you know.”

“We’re helping all of us,” Austin said. “Is Davis going to be okay?”

“You mean,” James said, pausing a moment, “is he good?”

Austin raised one eyebrow.

“He’ll come through,” James said. “I think there’s more to him than meets the eye. He’s surprised me before. But whether or not he’s easy to get along with, we need anyone with a skillset in the fight against Koble.”

“It’s hard enough though,” Austin said, “just getting through the days without a jerk like that slowing things down, especially with Koble’s plans steadily making the world unlivable.”

“More unlivable,” James added. “How did you do? Out there, I mean. Living off the land, moving around.”

“We’ve gotten by,” he said. “There were times when I even liked things about it, and I think the others are probably the same, but that’s a fleeting thing. I can’t remember the last time I felt at peace.”

“Because we’re at war,” James said. “And how will you spend tomorrow, before we have to leave?”

“Family,” Austin said.

“Yeah,” James said.

A smile crept into his face, and then it was a grin.

“I think,” James said, stroking his chin, “I know just the thing.”

14

The next morning, Austin woke the group at sunrise.

They all sat up groggily and gathered around the coffee table in the hotel room. Malachi and Savannah were trying to stifle yawns, but Andy was already eager to know what was going on.

“We’re going to have a family day,” Austin said. “I want us to spend some good time together.”

Amanda had barely spoken at all, and now she looked thoughtfully into her lap.

“Well,” Savannah said quietly, “that sounds encouraging. What’s brought this on?”

“Does anything have to have brought it on?” Austin asked. “Come on, I’m serious. I want us to actually have a good time together for a change. It’s been almost nonstop since the homestead, and I don’t know about you all, but for me that feels like it was about a million years ago.”

“Longer,” Andy said.

“What have you got in mind, Austin?” Amanda asked.

“Yeah,” Andy said, “what are we gonna do?”

“The answer to that is out there on the veranda,” Austin said. “So you’d better all get ready. And dress warm.”

Andy’s enthusiasm, along with Austin keeping them in suspense, was enough to get them all up and dressed. After a few minutes, they headed out of the room together, and Austin locked the door to the room. The Parkey had still used conventional key locks on the room doors rather than electronic card readers, which was lucky.

Once outside, Austin led them to one corner where an assortment of fishing gear was leaning up against the wooden side of the veranda.

Of all the gear James had provided him—including several rods, nets, bait, and lures—the Shakespeare rod was the best. The others were fine, but they were just generic rods. The Shakespeare he’d recognized by the logo and model name.

He’d already inspected it and had seen the faded stenciling that read Excelsior XL and had been reminded of the Shakespeare rod he’d used as a teenager. That had only been a junior model, but this was the business—a really nice piece of work. It wasn’t new, and it was obviously well-loved, with scuffs and scratches, but its guides were undamaged, and the reel worked smoothly.

Then again, it hadn’t yet been put to the test, and Austin could hardly wait.

“Whoa,” Andy said.

He rushed over to the gear but didn’t touch anything.

“Where did we get all this?” he asked.

“You didn’t trade for it?” Amanda asked.

“Of course not,” Austin said, rubbing her shoulder. “James is lending it to us, so we’ve gotta be really careful.”

“Fishing?” Malachi asked. “Where?”

“He also gave me a tip on a nice little spot,” Austin said. “And it’s within walking distance.”

“And if we don’t care about fishing?” Savannah said wryly.

“Then we sit in the shade and watch the others hopefully get wet,” Amanda said. “Sound good to you, girl?”

“Sounds good,” Savannah said.

Austin laughed, and then Malachi and Andy were laughing too.

“Fresh fish,” Malachi said dreamily.

“That’s right,” Austin said. “And we might even share it with the slackers.”

He glanced at Savannah and Amanda, and Amanda punched him lightly on the arm.

“Let’s go then,” Savannah said. “I can’t wait to see you struggle to tie a half-Windsor knot or whatever.”

“A half-Windsor?” Austin asked incredulously. “Like for a necktie?”

Savannah rolled her eyes.

“Savannah, I thought better of you,” he said.

“I can tie all kinds of knots,” she said. “Don’t give me a hard time if I don’t remember all their goofy names.”

“Anyway,” he said, shrugging, “muscle memory.”

“Like riding a bike, huh?” Savannah asked.

“Something like that,” he said.

Austin led the way with the others behind him while the dogs bounded alongside them. The place James had told him about was hardly beyond the limits of the base—a depression in the hillside that led down to the river they’d already seen from the camp itself. Austin led them to a spot where the ground was raised and jutted out a few yards into the river. It was covered with smooth gray pebbles, and it was the perfect spot to cast out.

“Here should do it,” he said. “What do you think, Andy?”

“This should do nicely,” the boy said seriously.

He was looking at the river, already squinting to inspect the fast-flowing water for signs of life. Amanda and Savannah had picked a spot under a nearby willow tree, and Austin spent a few moments watching the way Amanda’s hair blew in the breeze with the hanging branches of the willow.

He remembered the task at hand, and he was all business.

First, he gave Andy a rundown of each part of the fishing rod and how to assemble it from scratch. He showed the boy how to connect the reel to the rod and spool it, and then how to draw the line through the guides and tie a knot on.

“What’s that?” Andy asked.

“That’s the drag knob,” Austin said. “It regulates the amount of force required to pull the line off the spool. In other words, it changes how hard a fish has to pull to run with the line.”

“So that’s when I reel him in?” Andy asked.

“That’s the idea,” Austin said. “But first, you’re gonna have to learn how to cast a line.”

Austin showed Andy how to do it by facing the water and reeling in the line so the bait hung just over a foot beneath the rod tip.

“You grip the handle with your thumb just there,” he said, showing his thumb just beneath the reel release. “Now you press it to let the line go, lift it up like this, and then—”

He swept the rod forward in one smooth movement, and the line flew out across the moving river.

“Whoa,” Andy said.

“Right?” Austin said.

Malachi was watching with interest, but Austin thought he was watching the boy just as much as the demonstration.

“Now you try,” he said, passing the boy the rod.

Andy did as Austin had done, or close to it. Austin had been worried the Shakespeare would be too heavy for him, and maybe it was. Still, the kid did a pretty good job, and the lure went out across the water. The sinker took it down, and Andy was left holding the rod securely with both hands wide apart.

“That’s it, right?” Andy asked.

“That’s it,” Austin said. “Now keep a firm grip, but you still wanna relax your arms a little. We’re supposed to be relaxing, after all.”

“Sure,” Andy said.

Without instruction, he moved his hands closer together gripping the pole.

“One more thing,” Austin said. “Try reeling it in. Just—”

Andy began spinning the reel handle clockwise, and the line began coming in.

“You got it,” Austin said quietly, “but leave it there. Now you’re just waiting to feel a catch. Malachi, you’re breathing pretty loud. You might scare the fish away.”

“What?” Malachi said looking surprised and then almost embarrassed.

“I’m kidding, kid,” Austin said.

Malachi laughed, took up one of the other rods, and started tying a hook onto its line.

“I’ll keep the breathing down when you stop casting a shadow,” he said. “Everybody knows fish like to sunbathe.”

Andy giggled. The rod dipped momentarily, and that was enough to alert Andy of his sudden inattention, and then he was back, focused intently at the water. Just waiting, as Austin remembered doing himself many times when he was still a kid fishing with his old man in the summer.

“Just make sure you catch us something nice,” Malachi said to Andy.

He winked at the boy, then cast his own line out. It landed a few yards beyond Andy’s, then Malachi stood still and held the rod steady. They all stood there for a few minutes without saying much at all, listening to the sound of the water and the low whisper of the breeze in the trees. After a little while, it was clear Andy was becoming bored.

Austin was getting worried. Maybe they really had spooked the fish, or maybe it just wasn’t their day. He knew from going fishing with his father as a boy, even the surest bet of a fishing spot might have dry spells.

“Anytime now,” he said.

Still, nothing happened.

That was when Austin first considered that the day might be a bust. He chalked it up to their shoddy luck since leaving Grangeville. Shoddy luck that had still, somehow, left all of them alive—but that didn’t mean others hadn’t gone who shouldn’t.

A wave of guilt hit him when he remembered Elizabeth Novak and her husband Sam, who’d given his life so they might escape, without whom they might not be here now, fishing in Skykomish, laughing and being together. Then again, wasn’t that exactly what the sacrifice had been for? For all the moments like these, now and in the future?

The rod twitched, and Andy looked up at Austin and Malachi with wide eyes.

“Hold on,” Malachi said, grinning.

Just for a moment, Austin was transported back to his first catch, that strange feeling of recognition and acceptance by a usually cold and random universe.

“Go, Andy!” Savannah called from under the tree.

“You’ve got it, kid,” Austin said. “Now start to reel it in, just like I showed you.”

Andy did so, reeling the line in and then lifting a foot-long salmon from the water where it twisted, trying to get free. Andy was leaning back to hoist up the fish, biting his lip in concentration. Austin took the rod by the shaft and then the handle and brought the fish in.

Austin took a heavy fishing knife by the sheath and whacked the fish on the head with the wooden handle forcefully enough to stun it.

“Right above the eyes,” Austin said. “You want to stun him, and that means you’ve gotta target the brain.”

Andy watched with interest.

“So it doesn’t hurt?” Andy asked.

“We stun the fish as soon as possible once it’s out of the water,” Austin said. “Just like humans can’t breathe underwater, fish can’t breathe above it.”

“I know,” Andy said impatiently.

“Right,” Austin said, “so we don’t want to leave the fish to drown.”

“A humane death,” Malachi said.

“That’s right,” Austin said.

“What now?” Andy asked.

Malachi took the rod, and Austin removed the salmon from the line. He held it up in his left hand, quickly walking forward to the water’s edge and turning his body so Andy could easily see the demonstration that would follow. Austin used his teeth to pull the sheath away from the knife blade, then quickly nicked the tip of the blade across the salmon’s gill rakers. He continued holding the fish tipped up so it would bleed out into the water.

Austin had been worried Andy would be repulsed by this part of the demonstration, and he did grimace a little at the first sight of blood trickling and then coursing from the slit gills. After that, though, Andy watched with continued fascination.

“And we respect the fish,” Austin said, “by eating our catch and letting it provide a meal.”

“Yeah,” Andy said. “Hey, Savannah!”

“I know, Andy,” she called, “and I’m very impressed.”

“Let’s catch some more,” Malachi said.

“Yeah,” Amanda called, smirking, “that’s just because you know those who don’t catch the fish cook the fish.”

“Let’s gather stuff to cook it with then,” Austin said. “We’ll make a firepit.”

Malachi gave a thumbs-up, turned back to the water, and prepared to cast his own line again. Andy stood beside him, watching for now, but Austin thought the kid would pick up the other rod and try again soon. Sometimes catching just one fish was enough to motivate a lifetime of recreational fishing, and though Austin couldn’t speak to that in the boy, the kid was having a darned good time.

Austin led Savannah and Amanda a little way back up the trail they’d come in on and over a low ridge of craggy, light-colored rocks. Once past that, the trail dipped again, leading to a small clearing, sparsely dotted with trees.

“James said there was a sort of plain northwest of the fishing spot,” he said. “I guess this is it.”

The breeze had calmed, or perhaps there was just the natural barrier of the ridge and the surrounding trees.

“We should find some rocks,” Austin said. “Make a ring to contain the fire.”

“And drive the heat inward,” Savannah said. “We know, Dad.”

“Right,” he said sheepishly. “I know you know.”

“Well, I’ll go rock hunting,” Amanda said, “and you two can gather wood. Sound like a plan?”

“Sure,” Savannah said. Austin and Savannah set out to search for firewood at the outer edge of the plain by the tree line.

“Remember when you asked what gave me the idea of spending time together today?” Austin asked.

“Yeah,” Savannah said tightly. “When you said nothing had brought it on. That wasn’t true, was it?”

“No,” Austin admitted. “I didn’t want Andy to worry, but there’s a mission coming up, Savannah.”

She didn’t respond.

“We’re going to take a trip to a power plant,” he said. “Koble’s got her eye on it because it’s vital in introducing the NEXUS system. Without it, she’s gonna have a hard time getting any kind of consistent power flow across the region.”

“You think she’d actually be there herself?”

“I don’t know about that,” Austin said, “but we need to get a jump on preparing the grid. We need to liaise with any survivors and get them on our side if possible. We can see how effective the equipment still is. Who knows, it might have already been sabotaged beyond repair.”

“Sabotaged?” Savannah asked.

Austin nodded.

“No grid’s better than a Koble grid,” he said grimly. “And while the intelligence says it’s vital, who knows what else Koble’s got hidden up her sleeve?”

“I see,” she said. “And who’s going on this mission?”

“Myself and Amanda. And a few others, including Hank and Mason.”

“And Davis?”

Austin looked at her, surprised.

“I’m not stupid, Dad. I can tell you don’t trust him.”

“The others vouch for him,” Austin said. “I don’t know what to say, but I’m going with it.”

“You should,” she said.

He considered that.

“Really?” he said.

“I won’t go,” Savannah said, “but I’m glad Amanda’s going. She’ll bring you home.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” he said.

A loon called in the distance, its haunting song filling the quiet between them.

“You know I love you, right, Savannah?”

She looked at him and seemed for a moment to be staring right through his flesh and into his very soul. He was used to feeling similarly vulnerable with his late wife, and with Amanda since then, but with Savannah, the feeling seemed even more irrational, even more cutting.

“Of course, Dad,” she said. “What brought this on?”

“You know what,” he said. “Once again, we’re preparing for the end. It seems like that’s all we ever do anymore.”

She smiled sadly. “I prefer to think of it as preparing for a new beginning, you know?”

He smiled back and was glad it wasn’t a lie. Somehow, in all the gloom filling him in thinking about an ostensible end—to life, family, and friends—she had made it better. Brighter.

“Sure,” he said.

Savannah looked away, noticed something at the edge of the clearing, and pointed it out.

“There,” Savannah said. “The ridge overhangs that bit, might have protected the deadwood from the rain.”

“Good thinking,” Austin said.

Her instincts had been right. They found piles of tangled deadwood that’d fallen from the trees now grasping up toward the sky like fingers on long-mummified hands. It was relatively dry, and just as Savannah had predicted, the ridge had provided a natural barrier from the wind-driven rains.

They took as much as they could bundle in their arms and made their way back to the fishing spot. Amanda was already there and had collected a decent-sized pile of rocks. Andy was still standing with Malachi but had let the older boy carry on with the fishing. Austin guessed the kid’s arms might’ve gotten tired fairly quickly but was happy he was still engaged and helping out.

Andy turned to see them looking at their gathered materials.

“We’ve got more rocks here,” he called in a kind of whisper-shout, mindful of the fish.

“We don’t want river rocks,” Austin said. “Any porous rocks might have water in them and could explode once they’re heated by the fire.”

Andy looked momentarily horrified.

“That’s right,” Austin said, chuckling. “That’s why Amanda’s found these for us.”

Austin began arranging the rocks in a circle and filled the middle with kindling. Over that he arranged bits of their gathered deadwood in the shape of a tepee covering the kindling. He took a pack of windproof matches, which James had also supplied, and struck one. It held in the breeze, but he sheltered it with his cupped hand anyway. The wind was still low, but undoubtedly stronger than in the space beneath the ridge.

The fire caught quickly and easily, and soon it was roaring.

“Look,” Malachi said.

He and Andy were walking over, each with a fish hanging from cut lines in their hands.

“Well, well,” Austin said, not even trying to hide his pride.

“Stunned and bled,” Malachi said. “Andy even did the one I caught, right, kid?”

“It’s not so bad,” the boy said. “And it feels much better, knowing they’re providing a meal.”

“Right,” Austin said. “Well, I think you boys have definitely earned your lunch. And, if I do say so myself, I think we have too, right ladies?”

“Right,” they both said in unison.

Austin showed Andy how to gut the fish while Savannah and Malachi walked off and began joking around, giggling.

“It’s simple,” Austin said. “First, you rinse the fish.”

Andy watched as Austin washed the fish gently in a bucket of water drawn from the river.

“And then you remove the fins and the scales,” Austin said and did so. “Then you want to slice right into it all the way up toward the neck, and that lets you open it up.”

“Ew,” Andy said. “I mean, wow.”

“You don’t have to pretend, Andy,” Austin said. “It is gross, but it’s also how you’ve gotta do it. We need the fish clean because we don’t want to risk getting sick. And that’s why we’re gonna remove all of these guts, see?”

Andy nodded. He was wrinkling his nose, but the kid hadn’t even stepped back.

“And now what?” he asked.

“We rinse again,” Austin said, plunging the two fish back into the bucket. “And after that, we’ve just gotta cut the head off and decide how we’re going to dress this sucker for eating.”

“And how we’re gonna cook it,” Andy said.

“I think we should try making a grill,” Austin said. “Unless you can think of another way to cook these fish?”

Andy thought for a moment.

“What about a spit?” he asked. “Like in medieval times, like in a castle, you know?”

“I’ve used a spit before, kid,” Austin said. “And I’m not that old.”

Austin didn’t want to remind Andy he’d actually seen a spit in action before too, when two corrupt soldiers commandeered the family homestead earlier in the fall. He and Amanda had not been there to protect the kids, but now he was just thankful Andy seemed to have put it out of his mind.

“But no,” he continued, “I think a grill is going to suit our purposes much better this time around. Here.”

He cut some twigs from a nearby maple tree and began soaking them in water from the river. This was enough to pique Savannah’s and Malachi’s interest, and both of them walked back over to join them. Amanda was watching, but Austin suspected she already knew what he was up to. Austin was surprised at the deftness with which he was able to bend the wetted leaves into a grill. He’d done it before but hadn’t expected his hands to remember the procedure so easily.

“No way,” Savannah said.

“Pretty cool, right?” Austin said.

He put the grill over the hot coals and began draping the fish over its surface.

“Why do you think I did that?” Austin asked. “Anybody? Not you.”

Amanda already had her hand in the air and now sniggered and brought it back down.

“So it wouldn’t catch fire,” Andy said confidently.

“Yes,” Austin said, “but there’s more.”

“It’s making a lot of smoke,” Andy said looking dubiously at the grill.

“Exactly,” Austin said. “Green wood that’s wet creates a lot of smoke, and what’s more delicious than freshly smoked fish?”

Andy nodded, clearly impressed.

When the fish was done, they sat and ate and talked. First about the fish, which was good. In fact, it was about the best-tasting fish Austin could remember eating. Then again, ragged and still almost fresh off the road, he was just happy to have something fresh.

“Where are we going, Dad?” Savannah asked.

“After Skykomish?” he asked. “I don’t know. I just want a safe place for us. What do you want?”

“The same,” Savannah said. “And I want the world to change. It doesn’t have to go back to the way it was. I know that won’t happen. But I want to see more of it. Even if we’ve been traveling around for a long time, sometimes I feel like we’ve never really gotten anywhere. Does that sound crazy?”

“No,” Malachi said softly, “I feel that too.”

“I’d like a family,” Amanda said. “To raise a family, you know. I wouldn’t feel right doing that unless we had something like what you’re describing. Heck, I don’t even think it’d be possible.”

“It will be,” Austin said. “But we’ve gotta slog through the mud first.”

“Through the mud,” Andy repeated, nodding.

Austin slapped the kid gently on the back and was happy to leave the conversation at that. Admitting his fear that this could be the final time they were together wouldn’t make anybody’s day better. Sometimes being a leader meant suffering alone, but he knew it was naive to assume the others weren’t feeling the same.

Sometimes it was enough to be alone together.

15

“I’ll see you all again soon,” Austin said.

Savannah, Andy, and Malachi all stood together. The rest of the team members were getting ready and heading out to the waiting truck. There’d been no tears, but Austin suspected they were all suppressing their emotions, and they were probably each differently aware of themselves doing so.

“We both will,” Amanda said. “Just look after each other, and remember if anything goes wrong, you get out. If you’re gonna stay, you gotta head straight to the armory.”

“But get out,” Austin said. “And don’t try to be a hero.”

Savannah raised one eyebrow, and Austin’s hypocrisy sat like a leaden weight in his stomach. She didn’t let him suffer too long and gave him a long, close hug. Before Austin could think too hard about their parting, he pulled away. Before heading to the truck, he spoke quietly to Malachi.

“Look after her,” he said. “If we don’t come back, you have to look after her. Lord knows she’ll be looking after you.”

“I will,” Malachi said. “I promise.”

“Good,” Austin said. “You’re a good kid. And you’ve done more for us than I can even remember, than anyone could. Don’t think I’ll ever forget that.”

“I could say the same of you,” Malachi said. “And I don’t forget. I don’t ever want to.”

Austin placed one hand on his shoulder but didn’t say anything—there was nothing left to say. There would never be enough time to say everything. Now, once again, there was work to do.

“Austin,” Amanda said, reading his mind.

She nodded toward the idling truck. It looked like the same one that’d picked them up the other day, with Hank commanding the patrol that’d found them.

“At least we’re going by choice this time,” Austin said.

“Something like that,” Amanda said dryly.

They got into the truck Davis was driving. Aside from his knowing the routes, driving also kept him from complaining constantly. Mason hadn’t been kidding either. Davis drove the truck well, navigating the twisting roads that wrapped around the mountainside, and their path was clear.

“Get in,” Mason said, “find survivors if we can, learn what we can. If we like what we hear and the atmosphere’s good, we can bring them back.”

“Back to camp?” Davis asked. “Just like that?”

“You brought us back just like that,” Austin said simply.

“And what if they’re all dead?” Davis asked.

There was a brief silence.

“If they’re dead, Davis,” Mason said, “then we’ll check the equipment, take any documentation or instructional material necessary for getting the plant back online, and be ready to come back when the coast is clear to get the juice flowing.”

By the time they were approaching their destination, it was dark, and Davis was driving with only the dimmed light from the headlights to show him the way. Still, they needed only the moonlight to see the distant towering form of the Snoqualmie Falls power plant.

“That’s it,” Austin said.

“Yeah,” Davis said. “Cash or card, mister?”

Austin laughed and slapped Davis on the shoulder.

“Nice, Davis,” he said. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Davis cringed, perhaps more at the familiarity of the gesture than anything else. Austin hadn’t expected ever to make a friend in Davis, but just before joining one another in an undoubtedly dangerous mission, a little levity could only do them some good.

Davis had already cut the lights before they’d begun their final approach to the power plant, and once they’d stopped, he turned off the engine. They sat quietly in the dark watching the huge, white block of a building.

“So,” Mason said, “we move quickly around the base avoiding any sentries or prying eyes, and we gain access through the back door. James will identify it. Once we’re in, we have a look around and see what we can see. Everyone gets out in one piece. If there’s trouble, we split. Myself and some others—those with the farthest-shooting weapons—can cover the others to escape.”

“And then?” Kate asked.

“We all meet back at the truck,” Austin said simply.

They got out of the truck and readied their weapons. Davis had intentionally parked within some thick brush on top of the hill that overlooked the plant. This, Austin knew, would help camouflage the vehicle while they were away from it. With the cover of darkness, the truck would be close to invisible.

Austin and Amanda went forward to scout ahead of the others. They found a good observation point with plenty of natural cover from the thick foliage just beyond the edge of the winding road, and Amanda took out her binoculars.

“Anything?” Austin asked.

“Not much,” she said. “It’s dark, and it looks like nobody’s home.”

Austin waited patiently and then took the binoculars, looking through at the dark, impenetrable windows of the place. Along the wall were ducts and extraction units, extensive networks of piping only visible in the gloom because of their sheer size. Austin estimated the width of the largest pipes to be almost four feet.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Nobody home?” she asked.

“There’s gotta be,” Austin said. “Someone is in there. And if they’re not, they will be.”

“Better get moving,” Amanda said.

“Wait,” Austin said, again peering through the binoculars. “What’s that there?”

He passed them back to her, and she looked. “Where? What am I looking at?”

“Over there, by the loading bay doors,” Austin said.

She looked for a moment, then brought the binoculars down again.

“It’s a body,” she said.

“We should tell the others.”

They returned and explained what they had seen, but Mason was hardly discouraged.

“Pretty much as I’d expected,” Mason said. “If anything, it’s probably good. Even in these times people, even Koble’s people, seem to be trying to collect their dead. If there are still corpses, I’d say Koble’s people aren’t here.”

“What if they’re not Koble’s people?” Austin asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Mason said. “Her people or not, I doubt the boss lady would want corpses cluttering up one of her new locations.”

“I don’t know,” Austin said.

“We need to investigate,” Mason said. “We didn’t come all this way just to turn around at the sight of one dead body.”

“No,” Austin said, “but something’s wrong.”

“What?” Davis asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Austin said gently. “But if we’re going forward, we need to be careful. And if we need to bug out, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

There was a metallic thunk as Mason pulled back the bolt on his Barrett rifle and slotted a new magazine in.

“Let’s go then,” the commander said.

They stole forward together, trying to stay low as they got closer to the base. As they crossed onto the open area just before the loading bay, out of any natural cover, the hairs pricked up on the back of Austin’s neck. The sentries James and Kate had reported didn’t seem to be here.

“Maybe they’re in hiding,” James said quietly. “We should be quick in getting to the back door.”

There was another body on the ground before the loading area. It’d been hidden in the shadows from their higher vantage point before, but now Austin could see a large hole from a bullet that’d ripped through the material of the woman’s blouse into her back.

“She was fleeing,” Amanda whispered. “You can tell by the way she’s lying there.”

“Okay, CSI,” Davis sniped.

“Hush,” Mason said. “I see what you mean, Amanda.”

“Maybe they’ve moved on,” Jake said.

“And maybe not,” Austin said. “Come on.”

They carried on with their advance, giving the loading doors a wide berth as they went around the buildings. There were more bodies on the ground as they went, and Austin was suddenly acutely happy Savannah hadn’t joined them. Even after all she’d been through and seen, he’d still rather protect her from whatever unpleasantness he could.

“Here,” James said. “Here it is.”

The door looked solid, and though Jake had brought tools that’d get them in if necessary, Austin thought it’d put up a heck of a fight. Jake went forward and pressed gently on the center of the door with his fingers, and it swung gently in, creaking ever so slightly.

“It’s open,” he said.

Mason took point.

Inside, the smell was atrocious. It was a strange mix of gun smoke, burned plastic, and the unmistakable stench of rotting flesh. A fire had broken out during whatever happened here. Austin had a feeling there hadn’t even been much of a fight.

“I can’t believe they’re already decomposing,” James said.

“It was the fire,” Amanda said softly. “It raised the temperature, which could cause decomposition to begin within hours.”

“Seriously, lady?” Davis asked. “What is it with you?”

“Shut up, Davis,” Austin said absently.

He was looking at the corpses strewn through the corridor. What he’d feared before was now confirmed. It hadn’t been a fight at all, but a simple slaughter. Koble’s people had come here and killed everyone they found, whether they were resisting or simply trying to get away.

“They were caught unawares,” Austin said. “Totally. And they didn’t stand a chance.”

“They’re in civilian clothes,” Amanda said, “just like the woman outside.”

“Who are they?” Austin asked. “Think they were associated with the plant before?”

“I guess they stopped wearing their uniforms,” Amanda said. “Either that or they just sought refuge in the plant. Didn’t go too well for them, I guess. Hey, look at this.”

She’d walked over to a semi-circular control desk with three chairs at it, two of them still holding up the corpses of the men who’d operated the controls. A third sat slumped over beside his own chair, which was askew and leaning against the control panel.

“They were shot sitting down,” Austin said. “I don’t believe this.”

“I do,” Mason said. “And this is what they’d do at Skykomish if they could.”

“You don’t think—” Kate said.

“Don’t worry about that,” Mason said. “We’ve got soldiers still defending the camp, people I trust. We’ve acted fast, and we’ll be back there in no time. This will not be us.”

Austin wished he could share Mason’s sense of security, and he had to admit to himself that it was probably all a front.

They searched on, proceeding through more corridors with varying levels of destruction, but always there were bodies.

“I’m not gonna forget this one,” Hank said bitterly.

After deciding there was no imminent danger from within the facility, they split up. Even then, the search yielded very little apart from confirming that everyone at the plant was dead. If anybody was hiding, Austin guessed they’d probably keep hiding until the end of time, never wanting to come back out for fear of the fire and blood that was their colleagues’ unmaking.

“Find anything?” Mason asked when they met up.

“Some blueprints of the facility,” James said. “Only a little more detailed than what we had before, and some manuals and technical documents relating to the equipment. I’ve kept it in case it might help with getting things back on track in the future.”

“Imagine having to work at this place after all this,” Amanda said. “It’s gonna take a week to even shift the smell, and that’s after the cleanup.”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” said Earl.

When they reached the lobby and the plant’s front door, it was still and silent outside.

“We should go,” Mason said. “There’s nothing here but death.”

He pushed open the door, and a shot rang out in the dark.

16

Bullets bounced off the ground around their feet, and then Mason was screaming at them.

“Fall back!” he yelled. “Inside, get back inside the lobby and behind something.”

They all did, taking cover behind the reception counter. While they were hunkered down there, aware that now in the absence of shooting, their assailants would be coming toward them, closing in for the kill, Austin noticed a woman lying dead on the floor.

The decomposition hadn’t been so fast here—the stench of death was barely on this body. On her face was a pallid but almost serene expression, but that was only because she was gone. She just didn’t know anymore. She was lost, and soon Austin might be too.

“We can’t stay here,” he barked. “We can’t get pinned down.”

“Shoot back,” Hank said. “Let’s go.”

Hank jumped up and fired blindly against the front of the reception area, shattering yet more glass. Austin and Amanda fired too, around the edges of the counter. Earl stood up to shoot and was shot in the neck immediately. The killing shot was part of an arcing spray of bullets from something high-velocity, and the rest went into the drywall of the partition directly behind them.

“No!” Mason said.

He went to stand to see if anything could be done, but Hank grabbed him by the shirt and wrenched him down.

“He’s gone,” Hank said frantically, “we can’t help him.”

Kate tried to make a run for it and was gunned down after taking just a few steps.

“Oh, Austin!” called a sickeningly familiar voice.

“Who is that?” Hank asked.

“I think it’s—” Austin began.

“Oh, Austin,” the voice continued in a mocking lilt, “you probably should have joined with us in the first place, don’t you think?”

“Jones!” Austin called. “We should talk about this.”

“No talk, Austin,” the man called. “That time has passed. And I don’t remember you being so eager to talk when you blew out of my base in one of my vehicles. Nor when you killed all those good men at the airbase.”

It was one of Koble’s senior military people. Something Jones, one of her lieutenants, and the top conventional soldier in Koble’s operation when they’d escaped from captivity in the base in Boise. They had seen Jones murder Novak’s contact Max in cold blood, execution-style on his knees in front of the entire base.

“Don’t listen to him,” Mason hissed. “We need to break through somehow.”

“How?” Amanda asked.

“Yeah, how?” Davis asked, his voice quivering. “We’re gonna get cut to pieces.”

“We just need a weak point,” Mason said.

“I’m covered in weak points,” Davis spat.

Austin would’ve slapped him on the back for getting off another joke, but all the humor had been sucked out of him. Now there was just fear. That they were going to die, trapped here like rats. Next to a mud-kicker like Erik Davis, and away from the rest of his surviving family.

“Trying to come up with a plan, are we?” Jones called. “There’s no way out. I don’t know how you idiots got here, but there’s no way of getting back to whatever slime pit you’re calling home.”

“If we can keep this jerk talking, we’ll have a better chance,” Amanda whispered.

“How do you think this is gonna play out?” Austin called. “You think Koble’s gonna keep you up top once she’s achieved what she’s set out to?”

“I know she will!” Jones cried.

There was a little more emotion in that voice than Austin would’ve been comfortable with revealing, but maybe Jones wasn’t thinking things through too well. After the turkey shoot that’d been the initial takeover of the plant, and even with all the trouble they’d caused Koble in the past, perhaps the lieutenant was losing it.

“We’ll punch through the circle they’re making,” Mason said, “because you know they’ll be heading in through the other entrances now, and there are how many, James?”

“Counting doors only, there are at least nine,” James said. “But whether those will be effective exits for us is another matter. We’d have to discuss them one by one, but I still believe this back door to be our best option.”

“Thank you,” Mason said. “I’ll head up to the upper floors with two others, and we’ll take out some key targets. Austin, we’ll cover you while you and the rest of the team head through the gap to the truck.”

“You think he was bluffing about not having found it?” Amanda asked.

“We don’t have much choice but to try,” Austin said.

Amanda pushed herself up a few inches and blindly fired again across the whole lobby. There were audible cries as some approaching soldiers tried to take cover.

“Go forward, idiots,” Jones called. “They’re stuck, nowhere to go but the grave!”

“Once we start taking them out,” Mason said, “you make a break for it. Then we can all get out together.”

“I’m staying with Mason,” James said.

“So am I,” Amanda said.

Austin looked at her, but there was no time to argue.

“So when do we go?” Davis asked.

Austin and Amanda looked at one another, nodded, and jumped up together, firing with their automatics as aggressively as they could, sweeping the barrels in wide arcs that covered the whole of the central building’s facade.

Mason stood and ran for the back of the room, pulling Davis along by his shirt. The others followed with Hank running behind them. Austin knew his and Amanda’s clips would soon be out.

“Let’s go!” he called.

They ran through the gunfire, narrowly missing flying chunks of lead, following the others to the back of the reception area. Mason, Amanda, and James didn’t stop, heading straight for the stairs to try to access higher ground.

“What now?” Jake asked.

“We lead the ground assault,” Austin said.

“Actually, I think that’s what they’re doing,” Davis grumbled.

“Davis,” Austin said, trying to keep his cool, “I don’t intend to die with you making stupid, sarcastic comments beside me.”

There was an awkward hush between them.

“We’re coming,” Jones called.

“No,” Davis said with growing intensity, his voice a low smolder, and at first Austin didn’t know what he meant. “We’re coming.”

Surprising probably everyone, Davis ran back out toward the lobby, firing as soon as he had open space in front of him. He got down onto one knee, and Austin joined him from behind, firing over his shoulder. Jake was taking great shots and had cleared the enemy from the left side of the reception.

They pressed forward, pushing the oncoming enemy from the right side. Austin tried to keep to short bursts and aim low to counter the AR’s recoil. Austin still couldn’t see Jones. He was probably keeping himself back, wary of any of the surprises Austin and his company were so well associated with.

“Watch,” Austin said. “On his mark.”

One of the soldiers outside was knocked off his feet with a high-velocity shot from above.

“That’s Mason,” Austin said. “They’re covering.”

“Above!” Jones cried from somewhere unseen, his voice now crackling through a megaphone speaker. “They’re shooting at us from above, you morons. Kill them!”

The megaphone screamed brief feedback and then went silent.

“Now!” Austin cried.

They advanced as one, taking cover again behind the bullet-riddled reception counter, but only for seconds. They moved out of the building, trying to clear a path toward the truck parked up on the hill.

Jones was standing flanked by two of his army’s vehicles. Both of their trucks had lights fixed to their roofs, similar to those Austin had seen before on off-road vehicles. They were burning with white, bright light, but Austin could still see the lieutenant’s silhouette through the smoky light beaming from around it.

“Come on, Mason,” he muttered. “Take him out.”

A second later, there was a shot from above, but the bullet had already landed. Austin saw Jones’s shape twist as the bullet hit his side, or maybe his arm.

Winged, that was it.

Jones scrambled into one of the vehicles. Now Austin and the others with him on the ground were close enough to hear him screaming orders or just insults at the others, but most of them scattered in all directions.

“Take out the tires,” Austin said.

They fired together, hearing the hiss of both front tires emptying of air and the crunch as the truck drooped forward on its suspension. Jones got out of the truck and began scrambling behind it, probably trying to reload.

Austin ran forward, joined by Jake, and found the lieutenant beneath the bed of the truck. Almost unconscious, but still alive. Austin grabbed Jones up.

“Help me with him,” he groaned.

Jake took Jones’s other arm, and they began hauling him up to where the truck was parked. Once they were up the hill, Austin quickly counted down from three, and then he and Jake let the lieutenant go. Jones slumped to the floor. He was bleeding profusely from his arm, so Austin ripped a good section of fabric off the flank of his uniform and forced Jones’s sleeve up. He bound the wound as tightly as he could.

“He’ll live,” Austin said. “I think. You think you can get him to the truck by yourself?”

“I should be shooting, Austin,” Jake said.

“I’ll do it,” Davis said.

He slipped the revolver he’d been using back into its holster. Without another word, he grabbed Jones by the arms and began pulling him along so that the lieutenant’s backside dragged roughly across the ground. Jones would be lucky if he made it into the back of their truck without Davis dislocating both of his arms.

“Talk about cruel and unusual punishment,” Jake said.

Austin shook his head in dismay.

He and Jake headed back down, trying to clear a way for Mason’s team to get back downstairs from their high vantage point, but that wasn’t difficult. Most of Jones’s people had run off, and almost all those who hadn’t were already dead.

“How many more magazines have you got?” Jake asked Austin.

“Two,” Austin said. “And most of this one. I don’t even know if we’ll need them.”

Just then, a woman with an automatic rifle jumped out from a tall, fabric display depicting the plant itself. Austin took her out with a short burst of bullets.

“Any more surprises?” Jake asked.

“Come on,” Austin said, steeling himself for the next ambush, “we need to get out of here.”

17

Mason pulled the trigger and felt the butt of the Barrett MRAD push back. For such a big weapon, the rifle’s recoil was surprisingly soft. He was lying prone, protected from enemy fire and almost invisible in the dark.

He would change position after each shot to discourage or encumber potential counterattacks, unless there were multiple shots available within a short period. At this relatively low range, he was able to adjust for new trajectories with relative ease. With no suppressor equipped, each shot rang thunderously in the room on the third floor, and Mason considered that an effective form of psychological warfare against Jones and his people.

No matter their number, he was up here on high and raining death onto Koble’s army. After scanning and taking only three shots, he had Jones in his sight.

He expelled another cartridge, lined up the new shot, and took it.

Jones spun but didn’t go down.

“Darn,” Mason spat. “I winged him.”

“He’s not down?” Amanda asked.

“No,” Mason said, watching Koble’s lieutenant struggle to retreat.

“Can you get off another shot?” James asked.

“No time,” Mason said. “And we’ve got to get out of here.”

He saw a viable escape route that matched his recollection of the blueprints as James had described them.

“That’s the back stairwell, right?” he asked. “Near the backup generator room?”

James looked frantically.

“Yeah,” he said, “that’s it, but I don’t know if it’s clear.”

“Then we clear it,” Mason said coldly.

There was the sound of approaching shots. Koble’s people—or Jones’s people, depending on how you thought about it—had gone to pieces not long after the beginning of the fight, and Mason couldn’t help but take that a little personally. Is this all she thought of them? Sending a knucklehead like Jones and this undisciplined rabble?

Don’t get cocky, he told himself. That’s how you die.

“They’re coming,” Mason said. “And you all need to get out. They’ll be coming up the main stairway, and there could be any number. If we get caught from behind, we’ll all be shot in the back, just like those poor suckers we saw on the way in.”

“If we all go together,” James began.

“I’m staying,” Mason said. “I’ll cover you all.”

“But, sir—” Hank said.

“No, Hank,” Mason interrupted. “I’m giving you an order to get out. Get back to the truck and meet up with the others.”

“Mason,” Amanda said, “we don’t need to do it this way. We can probably—”

“Probably isn’t good enough,” Mason said bitterly. “But I’ll hold them off here and continue picking off targets. As soon as they see the sniper’s still in play, I doubt they’ll bother you on the ground. Besides, I can fortify that door to hold them for long enough.”

He’d already seen the double doors that opened onto the main stairway. Now he went to it, picking up two high lamps on steel stands, one in each hand. He pulled off the shades and pushed them through the loop-style handles on the double doors, pulling on them for good measure to see if the obstruction would hold.

“Good enough,” he said. “Now go.”

James and Amanda nodded at him and turned toward the back stairwell, but Hank wouldn’t move for a moment.

“Sir,” Hank said, but that seemed to be all he could manage.

“Go on, Hank,” Mason said. “I’ll be all right. I’m not giving up—I’ll just be behind you.”

He turned from Hank and began looking for targets on the ground, expelling the last spent shell almost without thinking about it all. When he looked back at Hank, the man was with the others, and then they were gone down the stairs.

Mason had expected they’d separate before leaving the building, and indeed, they came out into the courtyard from opposite sides. James and Amanda were together, and Hank was on the other side firing at random to keep any ambushers at bay.

Looking through the scope, Mason began choosing targets.

He got more shots off in the next minute than he ever had. In the brief lull, some of Jones’s people had regrouped, while others had scattered, running in different directions. From this vantage point, Mason could see not all of those scattering like startled insects were retreating. Some of them seemed in fact to be trying to flank them.

He shot two men running together with about eight seconds between the shots, and then three on the building’s east side, just before that group could get around the corner of the building to safety. Sure enough, the rest of Jones’s people kept back and stayed well out of the courtyard.

Once he could hear Austin’s group firing and could see them spilling out into the courtyard, he took that as his cue to escape. As if he’d needed any more encouragement, some soldiers reached the top of the main stairwell and began bashing against the double doors. He looked back only briefly and saw the lamp stands in the door had already started to bend.

Mason hurried for the back stairwell, the same way he’d sent the others. He began descending it and then heard footsteps at the bottom.

“Hey,” he said. “Who’s there?”

He raised his rifle and continued to creep down the stairs, unable to delay long for fear of those behind him catching up. He heard the sound again and moved his finger to the trigger, but when he saw who it was, a beautiful sense of relief washed through him.

A shot rang out, and Mason felt a sudden, sharp sting in his chest.

It was cold, like the wind was on it, even indoors, even pouring into it and making his whole body just as cold. Cold as the bullet surely white hot in him. He didn’t think it’d come out of his back, but then he suddenly wondered what the point of even worrying about that was.

It’s over, he thought vaguely. I just didn’t expect—

That train of thought stopped suddenly, but he was still aware. He was aware that he had fallen and was on the ground, slumped at a forty-five-degree angle on the steps but numb to it. The very last thing he heard was the sound of shooting, distant like popcorn popping in the next room.

And that was it.

Austin saw the rest of the team with him now, all apart from Mason.

“He’s coming,” Hank said breathlessly. “He had to cover us—his decision.”

“Sure,” Austin said. “And James?”

“He’s just behind us,” Amanda said.

James appeared then, coming out of the same side exit Amanda and Hank had appeared from, and he was waving at them.

The sound of engines coming to life told him Jones’s people had decided the fight was lost, or perhaps just not worth it, particularly with their commander injured and now missing. Austin wondered how many of them even knew for sure that they’d abducted Jones, or if any knew at all.

“They’re leaving,” Davis said. “Hot darn, they’re leaving!”

“That’s right, Davis,” Amanda said.

“I guess that’s it then,” James yelled. “That’s it!”

Once the enemy trucks were gone, Austin gave it a few moments of taking cover behind the truck before heading back toward the facility. He wouldn’t leave Mason behind, just as he expected Mason wouldn’t have left him behind—dead or alive.

There were dead soldiers everywhere, most of the ones in the courtyard with big bullet holes from Mason’s Barrett bolt-action.

“Thanks, buddy,” Austin muttered. “Like a guardian angel or something.”

Austin checked Koble’s dead and helped himself to a couple boxes of ammunition—mostly nine-millimeter—and a few rifle magazines. Apart from ammunition and a couple of knives, there was very little on them. Almost nothing in the way of personal effects.

The plant was now silent, though a couple more fires had broken out here and there, and there was now fresh gun smoke in the air along with the smell of yet more burning plastic and fabric. Still, it was eerie and strange. More than anything, he just wanted to be out, but he wouldn’t cut and run while they were still missing a man—and he hoped that would never change.

He went in through the side exit, walked slowly down the narrow corridor, and saw the Skykomish commander.

“Mason,” he said breathlessly.

He cleared his throat.

“Mason,” he repeated, forcing his voice to boom.

It echoed off the walls.

Mason didn’t move.

Dead, he thought. How?

Austin knelt and turned the man over, exposing the bullet hole in his sternum. The poor guy had slid down most of the stairs by the looks of the grisly blood trail left down the center of each of the steps. Mason had never stood a chance.

Point blank, Austin thought. He was shot from up close.

That much was obvious, and if one of Jones’s people had managed to inflict that kind of damage up close and personal, why hadn’t they followed the others out the side exit? Heck, they could probably have taken all of them out, just shot them from behind.

But they didn’t.

“Oh, man,” a voice said.

He looked up and saw Hank, his face dark and grave, the expression carved into the aspect of his face, like the joy might have gone out of it once and for all.

“I can’t believe it,” Hank said.

“You’re gonna have to,” Austin said. “Skykomish is gonna need a new leader, Hank.”

“You,” Hank said.

“No, Hank.”

“You, Austin,” Hank repeated. “Mason knew it, and you’re gonna start by telling me what the heck I’m supposed to do now. Lord knows, I have no clue.”

Austin saw the man was completely serious. He’d always thought there might be some combination of words in some specific order that could persuade anyone of pretty much anything, but not now. There was no arguing this time.

“We’ll collect our dead,” Austin said. “We’ll take them home with us.”

“Yeah,” Hank said.

They got to work. Austin told the others briefly of Mason’s death, and instead of hysterics, the news was met mainly with bewildered speechlessness. Even Davis had the good taste to just shut up and feel it, keeping it to himself as he helped drag Earl’s body from the lobby.

“Gently, Davis,” Hank said softly.

“Sure thing,” Davis grumbled.

He bent at the knees and lifted Earl higher so a little more of him would clear the ground on the way to the truck. Hank retrieved Kate and then Mason, and once all the bodies were in the back, along with Jones, who was still unconscious but breathing steadily, they did their final checks and prepared to disembark.

The drive back was silent, save for the whistle of the wind coming in through the cracked-open windows and the hiss of the radiator that obviously needed some attention.

That’d have to wait, Austin thought. like mourning their dead and electing a new leader.

If only it could all just wait forever.

18

Back at Skykomish Camp, Austin was in the medical center.

He was feeling the mission in his body now. He’d escaped without any significant injury, but he was badly bruised up and cut from broken glass. He accepted only a cursory check-over from Amanda, who applied disinfectant to his wounds and bandaged the worst lacerations on his upper arm.

Now Austin was watching Sarah treat Jones’s wounds while the lieutenant lay immobile on a stretcher in the middle of the room. Jones was drugged, but they hadn’t stopped there in considering security. He was strapped down too, like Austin had seen mental patients secured in asylums in old movies, only they didn’t have the kind of specialist beds you saw in those flicks. Instead, they’d used ratchet straps to hold his arms and legs tight against the bars of the metal stretcher’s frame.

“I don’t get it,” Sarah said.

She was squeezing out a blood-saturated sponge into a bucket of already filthy water. She poured it away and replaced it on the table with a bucket of clean water. Then she squirted fresh disinfectant onto Jones’s wound. The bullet had cut through his bicep and had come dangerously close to his subclavian artery, so Sarah had said.

“Don’t get what?” Austin asked.

“Hm?” Sarah said looking up, embarrassed.

Austin realized she hadn’t even intended for him to hear in the first place. Still, she decided to finish the thought for him after all.

“I don’t get why he has to live,” she said. “This man, I—”

She stopped mid-sentence and looked at the unconscious man.

“I’ve seen him before,” she said. “He was part of the group that murdered my husband.”

“We need him alive,” Austin said slowly, “so we can stop other people from dying. Other husbands, fathers, and children. We need him, Sarah. Even if he doesn’t deserve to live, he must. That’s the only way I can put it.”

She nodded glumly.

“I can trust you, can’t I?” he asked.

“Of course you can,” she snapped. “It won’t be a problem. Now let me focus, please.”

He took a step back but didn’t leave the room. Once she’d finished sewing up Jones’s wound, Austin stepped forward again.

“Would you mind stepping out, Sarah?” he asked amicably. “I’d like to be alone with him.”

“Sure,” she said, looking disgustedly at the broken man on the stretcher. “But do us all a favor when the time is right, won’t you?”

Austin patted her on the back and escorted her out. As she walked off, he turned to the guard they had on the door.

“Don’t let anyone in,” Austin said. “Not Sarah, not anyone, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the guard said.

Austin nodded.

Now that it was just him and the lieutenant, Austin walked over to the stretcher. He took the fishing knife James had loaned him out of its sheath and pressed its tip into the fleshy pad on the bottom of Jones’s right big toe. It wasn’t hard enough to draw blood, but he saw the flesh press in and turn white beneath the pressure. Much harder, and it would—

“Hey,” Jones murmured weakly. “Hey, what is that?”

Austin pulled the knife back and sheathed it.

“Wake up,” he said. “Wake up, Jones.”

Jones came to, his eyes bleary, pupils expanding and contracting as they tried to accurately gauge the light in the room. Even for Austin, it was white and garish in the medical center, light reflecting off all the steelwork and white surfaces. He could only imagine the shock it might’ve been for Jones.

“Where am I?” the lieutenant managed. “Is that you, Lydia?”

Austin gave a hollow laugh but didn’t respond.

After a moment, Jones worked it out.

“I had no choice,” he croaked. “Thought I was dead, and she brought me back to life.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” Austin said. “There are a lot of people dead, Jones, but you ain’t one of them. You sure helped a lot of people get dead, but that doesn’t mean you get the same perks. You don’t get to take back what you’ve done.”

Jones laughed then, a hideous, crackling sound.

“Before we do anything else,” Austin said, sitting on the end of the stretcher beside Jones’s bound feet, “I’ve got questions.”

“Yeah,” Jones said, already sounding bored with the new arrangement.

“How did you know?” Austin asked. “How did you know we were going to be at Snoqualmie?”

Jones laughed, but it was a joyless and empty sound.

“The same way I got made lieutenant in the first place, Austin,” he said, sneering. “The same way I’ve been shot three times and walked away every time, save this one—heck, I guess that’s four now.”

“This time we saved your life,” Austin said. “We even patched you up.”

“The same way I used to win at the horses every Saturday before I joined the Army,” Jones continued. “Luck. That’s all.”

“You got lucky and predicted where we would be, down to a specific location on a specific night?”

“What can I say?” Jones said. “I’ve always been a bit of a boy wonder when it came to dealing with Lady Luck.”

Austin made a small grunt of disgust, which Jones only reveled in, grinning like a sinister wolf from an illustration in a fairytale book.

“You called me by name,” Austin said. “You remembered me from the base?”

“How could I forget?” Jones asked. “But there are still all kinds of ways to get information, Mr. Merryman, and I hear things. I’ve got a little bird who whispers to me.”

“Oh yeah?” Austin said.

He’d already had an inkling there might be a rat in the group, but it was hard to sniff any rats out when he had such a huge specimen bound to the stretcher in front of him.

“You’d better watch yourself,” Jones said weakly, “because betrayal comes from within, and there’s a hurt coming I don’t think you’re prepared for at all, Mr. Merryman. Even if I don’t live to see it, and I’m sure I won’t, I’ll die happy, knowing that you, you and your meddling family, you’re all gonna pay for what you’ve done.”

Austin snorted derisively.

“That’s it,” he said. “That’s all you got? Well, you talk as ominously as you like, making vague threats and such, or you can start bartering for your pathetic life. Strange as it may seem to a psychopathic nitwit like you, Jones, I don’t actually want to see you dead.”

Jones looked up, bemused.

“It doesn’t matter what you want or what you don’t want,” Jones said quietly.

With some effort, Koble’s lieutenant strained his neck to move a little closer to him, which couldn’t have been easy while still sluggish from the sedatives and secured by all four limbs to the stretcher.

“You’re all going to die,” Jones whispered.

“Well,” Austin said, offering Jones a weak smile, “I’m pretty lucky too, you know? And judging from our respective positions right here, right now, I’d say my luck’s in. What do you think, Lieutenant?”

“I think you need to look closer to home,” Jones said simply.

“And I think you think I was born yesterday,” Austin said, “and I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work. So, drop the act and start thinking about how you can make things just a little bit better for us. You never know. Doing that might even make things just a little bit better for yourself.”

“Fat chance.”

“No, really,” Austin said. “Because there’s a whole camp full of people out there who want you dead. One of the ladies who worked on you, patched you up, your team killed her husband. I didn’t leave you two alone because, honestly, I don’t know what she’s capable of.”

“She wouldn’t,” Jones said. “She’s weak, and that’s why she’s here.”

“Oh,” Austin said, “that surprises me. You of all people should know what a human being can do when they’re pushed to an extreme. When they’re desperate. Wasn’t that what you were saying just a few minutes ago? About how you had no choice?”

Jones fixed him with a hateful stare.

“Wasn’t it?” Austin repeated.

“Safe passage,” Jones said bluntly. “That’s what I want.”

“And what are you offering?”

“I’m not done,” Jones snapped. “Safe passage from Skykomish and a working vehicle. Supplies too, and an assurance that I won’t be interrupted, stopped, or followed, and that last part is very important. If you give me that, I’ve got something for you.”

“I’m listening,” Austin said, trying to sound as bored as possible.

“I can help you,” Jones said. “I’ve got information, but I’m sure that’s no surprise to you. Heck, I’m sure that’s the only reason I’m here right now instead of lying dead like an idiot outside of that power plant.”

“Spit it out, Jones.”

“I’ll tell you where Koble’s base is,” the lieutenant said. “Her residency, I mean. If you want to take her out, I mean actually kill her once and for all, to cut the serpent’s head off, that’s where you’ll need to do it. That’s the only place you have a chance.”

“We could catch her in transit,” Austin said easily, but he didn’t honestly think that was likely.

Jones seemed equally or more skeptical and just laughed scornfully.

“That would require a whole different level of intelligence,” he said, “and believe me, Austin, your people don’t have it. You might have the potential, but you don’t have the tools, and if you try it that way, you’re all gonna get picked off one by one.”

“So you’re suggesting we march on Koble’s fortified base?” Austin asked. “Suicide?”

“Well, that depends.”

“On what?” Austin said. “And if you say luck I’ll—”

“Always luck,” Jones said sincerely. “But the fact is, pretty soon you won’t have a choice. You could chase your own tail waiting for her to move out in the open, but believe me, brother, that is never gonna happen. Not when you’re looking, and definitely not while your people are armed and ready.”

“Why won’t we have a choice?” Austin asked.

He was suddenly aware that he was gripping the metal frame of the stretcher so hard his fingers were going numb. He forced himself to let go and feel fresh pain in his finger joints.

“Koble’s already initiated the testing phase for the missile launch system,” Jones said. “She’s got targets in mind, and while I don’t have the final list, I know anywhere that’s selected ain’t gonna have a very merry Christmas, if you catch my drift. And anyone who does make it out is gonna face a long, dark winter exposed to the elements. Talk about sitting ducks.”

Austin thought about this for a long time, and Jones knew better than to speak through the silence.

“I need time,” Austin said. “I need to speak to the others before making a decision.”

“Time,” Jones said musingly. “We all need that. Just don’t take too much of it, or someone else will decide for you. And then we’re both out of luck. Permanently.”

“Yeah,” Austin said, standing and heading for the exit. “Feel better, Jones. Oh, and don’t go anywhere.”

“With service like this?” Jones said. “I wouldn’t dream of it, but just remember that clock is ticking, Austin. Make that decision, or get ready for whatever fresh hell Koble’s gonna rain down on you. Even now, you know what she’s like.”

“I think I’ve got some kind of idea,” Austin muttered.

He left Jones strapped to the bed and told the guard to make sure there was never only one person in with Jones at a time, and never to leave his post without being relieved by someone authorized by either himself, Amanda, or Hank.

“Yes, sir,” the guard said. “Just let me know what else to do.”

“I gotta figure that out for myself first,” Austin said.

Interrogating Jones raised more questions than it answered, but now he was worried about a rat. For all the front he’d put on dismissing that as manipulation on Jones’s part, he didn’t believe that was all it was. Someone had betrayed them, because Jones had known where they were going to be, and Jones had called him by name.

Somebody was talking.

19

For Amanda, having a man in captivity was an uncomfortable situation.

Getting too used to the idea of holding someone hostage and interrogating them seemed to be one route to ending up like the kind of power-hungry despot they were fighting against in the first place. However, there were other considerations.

Early that morning, she and Malachi walked toward the medical center to check on Lieutenant Jones. Amanda watched the sun low on the distant horizon, its new light just falling on the mountains around them. It wasn’t yet so bright she couldn’t take a good look at it, but nobody knew what kind of day this would be.

“If he’s here,” Amanda said, “Koble probably knows it. If she knows, then she knows the kind of information Jones might part with. And you heard what Austin said last night.”

“Just because he says he wants to deal doesn’t mean he’s going to give up anything meaningful,” Malachi said. “He’s probably just buying time.”

“Maybe,” Amanda said, “but Koble doesn’t know that. Koble’s probably comfortable with all sorts of methods when it comes to getting information from captives, wouldn’t you think?”

Malachi looked miserably at her.

“She might not expect it of us in normal circumstances,” Amanda said, “but we’ve taken her lieutenant.”

“She might think he’s dead,” Malachi said.

“She might. And she might not want to take the chance.”

They approached the medical center, and Amanda saw something that turned her even colder in the morning chill. There was a figure slumped on the floor. It wasn’t Jones.

“The guard,” Malachi said.

They ran forward and found the guard, a nice man Amanda thought was called Peter, collapsed and bent leaning against the wall at an awkward angle. He was still unconscious, but breathing. His arms were behind his back, and when Malachi shifted him, they saw his wrists had been bound with cable ties.

“You got a knife?” Amanda asked.

Malachi took a small penknife from his back pocket and cut the ties.

“Peter,” Amanda said, “Peter, can you hear me?”

She slapped him lightly on the face, and after a few moments he began to grimace and hiss with pain as he slowly opened his eyes.

“My head,” he said, “something hit my head.”

“Hey!” Amanda called and waved back at the center of the community.

She could see people there, and when she and Malachi had left the hotel that morning, people were already beginning their shift work. Someone in the distance, one of the early-rising campers, was piling wood for the burners, and they saw the signal.

“What is it?” they called.

“We need medical help here!” Amanda called. “We’ve got a man down!”

She saw the message was understood and then turned into the medical center. Malachi went in behind her. The first thing she’d expected was that Jones would be gone. He’d been placed in handcuffs after Sarah’s initial medical assessment and treatment. Kate had supplied the handcuffs, having taken a few pairs from her police station after the EMP.

Now he was gone, had likely used some blunt object—maybe a surgical tool that hadn’t been locked away, or just a lamp, anything—to hit the guard over the head, and crept out into the early night darkness.

But Jones was still there.

Well, Amanda thought, in one sense.

The man was dead, and it didn’t take long to put the scene together in her imagination. Davis and his forensics cracks aside, it didn’t take a star detective to figure out that Jones had been smothered with one of his pillows. There were signs of a struggle, a few glass vials smashed on one of the counters and the bed askew in the middle of the room.

“He was sleeping,” Malachi said. “Someone came in and did this to him. Look at that.”

Malachi pointed at the dead lieutenant’s mouth. It was agape, with fine bits of white fabric and pillow stuffing stuck in the gaps between his teeth and in his mouth. It almost looked like he was producing some terrible froth, like a rabid animal. He had obviously fought for his life, but lost.

Amanda put one hand on the man’s neck.

“He’s cold,” Amanda said. “Not stone cold, but he’s obviously been dead a few hours.”

“Then Peter’s been out for hours,” Malachi said. “We’ve gotta let them know. And I’m gonna tell Austin what’s happening.”

“Make sure the whole group knows,” Amanda said. “Our group. Save Andy, of course. I don’t wanna give that kid anything more to worry about.”

“Yeah,” Malachi said. “I know what you mean.”

Malachi left the room and spoke briefly with the several campers who’d come for Peter. He came back into the room momentarily.

“Nobody knows where Sarah is,” Malachi said.

“I’m going to do some initial checks here,” a woman standing in the doorway said.

Maureen and had once been a registered nurse like Sarah. She looked briefly down at Jones’s corpse, raised her eyebrows, and looked back up at them.

“I won’t say anything,” she said. “Not until it’s agreed. But I think we should take Peter to the pharmacy for now, if we can’t use this room.”

This made sense, given the present circumstances. The pharmacy would do well enough to give Peter the treatment he needed, and there was a foldout bed in there.

Amanda was left alone with the man’s corpse.

“Who did this?” she said softly to herself.

She thought of Sarah now missing, and decided she had to find her. It was in the woman’s own best interest. With the now-public fact of Jones being part of the particular group that’d killed Sarah’s husband, everyone would probably have a sense that she was guilty. Then again, lots of people probably felt similarly to Sarah about the life of a mercenary like Jones working for Lydia, who was herself essentially a warlord in these troubled times.

Sarah could become a figurehead, if it was true.

She ran first to the pharmacy. They were only just beginning to move Peter after Maureen had checked him over, so Amanda arrived at the pharmacy before they did. It was untouched, and no one was inside. She ran back into the thick of the camp, asking everybody she saw where Sarah was. There were already a fair number of people up and moving around for it being so early in the morning, but nobody had seen Sarah.

“Malachi already asked me,” one man said. “That’s the kid’s name, right?”

She thanked the man without answering and continued her search. She looked in the food stores and around all the material and fuel storage sites, but there was nobody there other than those at work.

She searched the camp fruitlessly for almost an hour, then gave up and headed back to the hotel. It was only then she realized how much of the time she’d been searching that she’d kept one hand on the butt of her pistol. Every time she’d knocked on or pushed open a door, she’d been ready to draw and fire.

Is that it? she wondered. Is that all the motive the woman needs for me to be ready to—

She pushed the thought out.

Sarah had motive, and Amanda knew she was stressed. This was new ground for all of them, and by the time she got back to the hotel, she just wanted somebody to tell her something new.

Austin and Savannah, having been fully updated first by Malachi and then by Maureen, were now sitting in the hotel dining room. Hank was there too, along with James, Jake, and a select few others from the camp. Davis was not present.

Andy sat out of earshot at the distant end of the room, near the fireplace which was smoldering a small fire. The dogs were lounging beside him, staying close, and Amanda wondered how much they sensed that something was wrong.

“Peter’s come around,” Austin said. “He doesn’t remember anything. He doesn’t know who hit him, only that he was attacked from behind after investigating a sound he heard from around the corner of the medical center.”

“So,” Savannah said, “it wasn’t Jones.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Right?” she said.

“It seems not, Savannah,” Hank said. “And though this obviously goes no farther than this room, there is one among us at Skykomish Camp with a reason to do this.”

“Sarah,” Amanda said bluntly.

“That’s right,” Hank said. “Sarah made it no secret that she hated the man. Heck, she had good reason to. Perhaps the best reason.”

“But that doesn’t mean she can kill a prisoner of war in cold blood,” Jake said, exasperated.

“No,” Hank said, “but it also doesn’t necessarily mean she killed him in the first place.”

Jake looked at him, shocked.

“Someone else?” he asked. “Who would do that? Jeopardize our parlay with Koble?”

“There’s no negotiation with Lydia Koble, Jake,” Austin said. “Let’s remember that.”

“I know,” Jake said. “I’m not saying we negotiate to save our skins, but we’ve got something she wants.”

“Not anymore,” Austin said. “Jones’s only value to us was information. Information he specified would lead us to Koble’s precise location, and intelligence about her plans to destroy certain sites with missile launches.”

“But now he’s dead,” Malachi said.

“Dead as anything,” Hank said. “It was brutal. Anyone who saw the body—I don’t want to go into detail, but if someone among us could do that, none of us can feel safe.”

Amanda looked over at Andy, but he appeared serene, absentmindedly stroking Russ draped across his lap. The boy was staring into the fire.

“If it wasn’t Sarah,” Austin said, “then there’s a traitor among us.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable pause while they all looked at each other, or away from each other. After a few moments, it was hard to tell.

“I don’t know what their goal is ultimately,” Austin added. “I don’t know if it’ll end with snuffing out Jones for fear of him giving information over. I don’t know if anybody is gonna be—”

Austin looked over his shoulder at Andy, saw the boy was content, and turned back.

“—next,” he finished quietly.

Jake exhaled slowly.

“So,” he said. “Who knew about Jones in the medical center?”

“Lots of people,” Austin said. “The team that brought him in, obviously. Sarah, who treated him, the guards. I don’t know who told who, but word got around.”

“We didn’t want it to be a secret,” Hank said. “It shouldn’t be a secret. We’re a community, and we work as one.”

“Only now it’s hard to figure out who the poison pill is,” Amanda said.

“The same person who did this—provided it’s not Sarah—is probably the same person feeding Koble information about our plans,” Austin said.

“A rat,” Hank said.

“A rat who gave away our plan for Snoqualmie,” Austin said. “Someone who’s been spying on us and selling us out.”

“But who could—” Amanda began.

There was the sound of a shot from outside, and then a woman ran into the dining area. The dogs were already up and barking, and Andy had run over to the meeting table by the bar. He ran to Savannah, and she held him against her side.

“We’re under attack,” the woman said.

Moments later, an alarm sounded. Cathy had told them all about that during the tour when they’d first settled at Skykomish, but none of them had heard it before. It was just a windup alarm, but it blared out of speakers in the center of the camp.

“Positions!” Hank yelled. “Get him out of here, along with the other kids.”

“Andy,” Amanda said, “you need to stay in the room, do you understand?”

“I’ll get Ben back here,” Hank said, “and you can take shelter with him, kid.”

“Sound good?” Savannah asked.

“Yeah,” Andy said. “Just—just stay safe.”

Amanda hugged the boy and joined Austin in running outside. Even before she felt the morning chill on her face again, she’d readied the M4.

“I guess we’re out of time for now,” Austin said.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Let’s just not run out of bullets.”

20

Austin rushed along, making for the armory with Amanda just behind him.

She was already taking shots, and as soon as they got outside the hotel, they could see the camp was in chaos. Koble’s soldiers were moving through the trees shooting indiscriminately at the rebel community.

“They’re everywhere!” Amanda called from behind.

Austin stopped to take a shot but missed. He ran a few steps farther and saw the same soldier behind the same tree trying to line up a shot with what looked, at this distance, like a hunting rifle. Without thinking any more, Austin lined up his own shot, quickly.

He pulled the trigger, and the man went down.

They were almost at the armory and could see the eastern gate. There were two trucks just beyond it, beyond the bear pit.

“The pit stopped them!” Austin yelled. “It must have.”

“Yeah, but do you see how many people they’ve got?” Amanda cried.

“Just get to the armory!”

They got there and pulled the doors open. Some of the rebels had already taken arms for themselves, at least it looked that way. If the attacking soldiers had already ransacked their weaponry, that didn’t bode well for the outcome of the fight.

Austin grabbed several magazines for his AR, and Amanda did the same.

“The barriers at the bridge aren’t gonna hold them for long,” Austin said. “They’re gonna get past the pit, and once they’re in, I don’t know what we can do.”

A young rebel fighter Austin recognized ran up to them.

“What do I do?” he asked frantically. “Austin, what do we do?”

“Get all those able to fight armed and ready,” Austin snapped. “Go to the armory. There’s still plenty there. Make sure arms are distributed well, and remember our strategic defenses. Take cover and make sure the others take cover. If you need to move, you use covering fire from your comrades, no exceptions unless the enemy leaves you no choice.”

“Yes, sir,” the young man said. “Sir, where’s Hank?”

“Did you hear what I said?” Austin barked.

The young man said nothing more but ran back toward the armory, shouting at others to join him. Austin called another group that had already armed themselves over to him and Amanda. At the moment, the wall of the firewood store provided them cover from the mass of oncoming soldiers.

“You three,” Austin said, pointing at those closest to him, “we need to defend the eastern gate at all costs. Stay behind the walls and use the footholds to get good visuals when you’re able to get a look in.”

“Maybe we should cut and run,” one said.

He was one of the woodworkers Austin had seen fixing the south wall just a few days before.

“If we run,” Austin said calmly, “we die. I can guarantee you that, son.”

The man nodded, then ran off with the other two toward the gate. Austin saw them scrambling up the footholds so they could peer over the top of the wall and begin taking shots.

“We don’t know what they’ve got, Austin,” Amanda said. “They’ve probably got artillery.”

“What can we do?” Austin said.

Exactly all they could do was try to maintain a coordinated defense of the camp.

Austin saw someone running for the treehouse that was still under construction and recognized it as Wayne, one of Hank’s trusted people. Wayne was holding a sniper rifle, and Austin thought it was probably Mason’s Barrett bolt-action.

Soon the air filled with the sound of the rifle shooting in the crisp morning air. Despite its clear tactical advantage, it was bold of Wayne to climb the treehouse, particularly since its armored shielding was not yet complete.

Still, every bit would help them. From what Austin could see, the eastern gate that the treehouse overlooked was the section of the camp perimeter that was under the most pressure. While the others he’d directed to defend the gate got to the high ground, he and Amanda ran to each side of the gate. There were holes in the walls big enough to observe the outside through, big enough to shoot through.

He could see Koble’s people taking cover behind the armored doors of the trucks they’d pushed open almost ninety degrees. While soldiers sat aslant in the passenger and driver seats of both trucks, hunched down to take advantage of the armored doors, the others behind the doors stood, and their lower legs were exposed.

“Aim low,” he called to Amanda. “Their legs.”

They each shot in short, controlled bursts, and after a moment they’d taken out two of them at the knees. Bullets whizzed past them in response, thudding into the wooden walls of the camp perimeter, sometimes throwing out splinters and chunks of wood, so that soon the air was hazy with gun smoke and sawdust.

“We can’t stay here long,” Austin said. “But if we just push them a little bit, we can help the others keep control from above.”

“What’s next?” Amanda asked. “What about the bridge?”

Austin’s stomach jumped at the idea—he’d forgotten the bridge.

“Are we gonna blow it?” Amanda asked.

Austin remembered the charges planted in the bridge, the one last-ditch effort Skykomish had at protecting itself. From the enemy’s number and apparent firepower, it was time to pull out all the stops. If Skykomish fell now, they were all dead. It wasn’t like the mad Zeke and his pathetic acolytes attacking the homestead. This was a final, sweeping destruction of Austin and the Skykomish rebels. It would be Koble’s regional victory, and possibly the last straw in her breaking the nation’s back.

“We’re gonna blow it,” he called. “But we should go now, before they get more people up here.”

They started toward the southern gate where the bridge was, and Austin called a small group over. They were all experienced soldiers, he knew, and recognized two of them as being on the team Mason had left responsible for defending the camp while they were at the plant.

“We need to fire the charges under the bridge,” Austin explained quickly. “That means I need cover.”

They all agreed and immediately ran for strategic positions. Two went up high, on footholds around the southern gate, while one armed with a sniper rifle stayed low, hidden in the bracken just inside the camp, peering through a hole low in the wall.

“Make it noisy,” Austin said. “We don’t want them guessing what we’re up to.”

Amanda climbed the wall and began yelling abuse at the enemy, firing from her M4 in the same conversative, short bursts. Austin ran to the gate, but not before Amanda had to change position, having attracted so much attention.

“That’s my girl,” Austin muttered.

He ran through a gap in the gate and almost straight into enemy fire. He ran as fast as he could without losing all control on what quickly became a steady decline on soft, sometimes muddy ground.

“There!” he heard one of the attacking insurgents call.

Austin slid like a soccer player in the mud, falling onto his side where he pulled the AR up and fired madly at the man who’d seen him. The man fell backward, the submachinegun in his hand going off and cutting into the bark of a nearby tree. The man’s teammates yelled out in distress and ducked for cover themselves, and by this time Austin was already up again.

He scrambled down the bank, lifting the AR above his head, and jumped into the freezing river. He was already wet with the mud and the morning dew, and now he was soaked from the thighs down. He began wading onward as quickly as he could toward the bridge. There would be no cover in the waters of the Skykomish River, which was as pure and clear as it was cold, but it was narrow, and once he was at the bridge, that and its wooden supports would provide cover for him.

“Darned—cold,” he spluttered as he forced his way on.

He almost lost his footing a couple of times, almost pushed forward onto his front by the coursing river around him. Luckily, it wasn’t even at waist height at this section, but he could already see that the crossed lumber supports of the bridge were in a deeper section. He would have to swim in that, and he’d have to keep the AR as dry as possible to maintain its usefulness.

Amanda and the other fighters he’d left to cover him were doing a good job. Far above he could hear not only Amanda taunting Koble’s people now, but all the others. They were being as loud and as inflammatory as possible. Austin just had to hope this wouldn’t push their attackers into some berserker-like rage or just freak them out enough to cut straight to the chase and simply burn Skykomish Camp to the frigid ground.

He got to the foundations and saw bullets hitting the water where he’d been only seconds before, leaving their straight, bubbly, white trails as they shot through the water.

“Man,” he said, gasping.

His fingers were numb, his hands and his whole body shaking as he clung onto one of the wooden supports holding up the bridge. He searched for the charges, which he found quickly. They were plastic explosives wrapped with black duct tape and secured to the bridge’s supports with yet more duct tape.

“Okay,” he said, shakily. “Now, Austin, don’t screw this up.”

He tried to remember what he’d been told about the charges, but as soon as his shaking hands were able to manipulate the fuse away from the rest of the first package, he could see clearly enough what had to be done.

“Down there!” someone called. “The ones around the gate are covering someone down there!”

He pressed his body against the supports as tightly as he could, just hoping that the overhanging edges of the bridge would protect him against enemy fire from above. If one of them was able to hang down, they could probably take a decent shot at him. Otherwise, they might just throw a grenade or some other kind of munition down. That might’ve even taken out the bridge, which would suit his purpose, but not if it took him out too.

For a few desperate seconds, he fiddled with the fuse. He patted at his pocket for the lighter that worked even when wet, horrified he’d forgotten it.

He felt it bulging in his breast pocket, suddenly remembering that he’d put it back there after getting back from the fishing trip. After giving James back the matches, telling him he just hoped he wouldn’t need them for a while.

“Stupid,” he hissed.

He held the first fuse tight in his fingers, and with the other hand he lit it, then immediately moved to the other package to light the other. He watched the first fuse burn down in his peripheral vision, aware that it was almost halfway already. He lit the other and immediately began scrambling to get away.

He threw the AR several yards onto dry land, then scrambled for the bank. He made it there and ran as fast as he could, jumping into cover just as a huge, guttural explosion sounded behind him. There was the sound of splitting wood, crashes and splashes as heavy material landed in the water. There was the screech of metal on metal from above as the trucks on the bridge ground against one another.

The first truck fell, crashing into the riverbed, some soldiers still hanging onto it. One poor soul got caught between the falling truck and the broken wooden supports of the bridge, and Austin looked away as the man was crushed.

There was an eerie silence from above.

Austin heard no gunshots for a moment, no more jeering from Amanda and the others from their defensive positions on the southern wall. There was only the sound of rushing water and the squeak of one tire spinning on the upturned truck lying on the riverbed. Austin ran back for his AR, trying not to inspect the devastation for fear of becoming distracted. He was a sitting duck now, moving alone beneath the broken bridge.

“They’re out of here!” someone called from the camp wall.

Austin climbed back up toward the gate he’d slipped out through.

On the far side of the destroyed crossing, he saw the other truck that evidently hadn’t been all the way onto the bridge. It hung over the mangled edges of the bridge’s far side, dipped down at a crazy angle. With just a little push, it’d probably follow the other one into the riverbed.

“This is gonna be a cleanup job for sure!” Amanda called.

Austin realized he was dazed by the cold of the water, by the adrenaline that’d run through him, that already was leaving him. Just as Koble’s soldiers were leaving, not surrendering but falling back on foot the way they’d come.

Amanda climbed down and took her jacket off. Austin understood and took his shirt off, casting it to the side as Amanda wrapped her jacket around his shoulders. Austin was pleased to see Wayne, who had survived with what looked like a small nick on his right shoulder. He’d clamped a rag against it that now dripped with blood, but the wound didn’t look too bad.

He walked right past them and headed for the pharmacy.

“The eastern gate,” Austin said, trying to force clarity into his voice while his teeth chattered. “The bear pit. Are they still there?”

“They’ve gone, Austin,” Amanda said. “We beat them.”

“For now,” Austin said.

Still, the relief was enormous.

“This could have been it,” Austin said. “This could have been the end of everything.”

“But it wasn’t,” Hank said.

“Hank,” Austin spluttered.

“Get him inside,” Hank said to Amanda. “Get him by the fireplace—and Stevie!”

Hank called over to one of the rebels who’d been defending the eastern gate, now climbing down from his position while his closest comrade stayed above on watch.

“Yeah, Hank?” Stevie said.

“Get some wood for the fire in the Parkey’s dining room,” Hank said.

“We have to find the wounded,” Austin said.

“We will,” Hank said. “For now, you’ve gotta look after yourself.”

Austin nodded.

He felt a strange sense of peace he hoped wasn’t just the beginning of hypothermia. The danger had passed, and soon it’d be time to take the fight to the enemy. For now, he had to get warm and rested, because Koble would feel this defeat.

Amanda accompanied him back to the hotel after he refused to go to the pharmacy on account that others would doubtless need medical attention more than himself.

“Jones has been moved,” Amanda said. “Hank’s had his people look at the scene inside the medical center, and they’ve got an idea as to how things played out.”

“It’s a shame we don’t have Kate anymore,” Austin said.

“It’s a shame we don’t have a few people anymore,” Amanda said sadly. “But will you stop talking and just get inside?”

“Yeah,” he said.

They climbed the steps in the hotel slowly, but Austin already felt warmer. It might’ve been Amanda’s jacket or the steady walk, or just getting inside out of the breeze. They reached the landing leading to their room as Andy stopped before passing them coming the other way, the dogs running behind him.

“You’re safe,” he said.

“We are,” Austin said. “Malachi’s down in the lobby, kid. Why don’t you go say hi?”

Andy bounded off down the stairs.

Amanda turned the key and pushed the door to their room open.

“She’s gonna hate us even more after this,” Austin said.

He sat on the bed and peeled his boots off.

“I know she is,” Amanda said. “But we hate her too, and more.”

“You think so?” he asked.

“We definitely love more than she does,” Amanda said thoughtfully, “and I guess that works both ways. But I know she’s not gonna win. Never.”

“Never say never,” Austin said.

“I just did, cowboy.”

She kissed him on the forehead and gave him the extra blankets from her bed, wrapping them around his shoulders and torso before pulling the sheet of his bed over him almost completely.

“Where are the others?” he asked.

“They’re safe,” Amanda said.

She sat with him while he rested and warmed up, and soon the others were with them too. It was still morning, and everyone was already beat, but nobody wanted to sleep. There were repairs to be done, plans to be made, and Koble’s coming movements to anticipate and counter. Austin was still thinking about Jones’s murder while in captivity, and how Skykomish Camp had a killer among them, one who was working directly against them.

Most of all, Austin wanted some kind of idea of what was coming next. This time, he just couldn’t tell.

21

In the hours after the attack, Skykomish Camp was strangely silent.

Austin was already used to the bustle of the camp during its normal hours of operation, with dozens of people milling about, mainly working but sometimes relaxing or just talking together. Now, even though almost everyone who was old enough to help, and who wasn’t wounded, was out and around the camp, there was an eerie and uncomfortable silence around the place.

Austin watched as two men dragged a woman whose abdomen was tightly bound with a blood-soaked blanket. She was turned on the stretcher, conscious but with a strange and terrible expression of emptiness on her face. As they passed him, Austin heard the woman’s low groaning.

“Austin,” one of the men said. “Should we go to the medical center or the pharmacy? She needs antibiotics.”

“The medical center,” Austin said quickly. “Someone there will get you what you need.”

The man nodded, and he and the other men were moving again.

“Hank,” Austin said, seeing him inspecting the armory. “We need to inventory the weapons and ammunition we’ve got left.”

“Well,” Hank said glumly, “that won’t take long. Was there anything we could use in the trucks wrecked in the bridge collapse?”

“Nothing,” Austin said. “The soldiers got out with everything they brought—they threw it all at us.”

Hank smiled.

“We’ll be okay,” Austin said. “Koble won’t have been expecting this defeat. It’ll hurt.”

“Yeah, and that’s what I’m worried about.”

“The alternative would have been worse,” Austin said.

Hank shrugged and then nodded.

“Call a meeting,” Austin said. “Anyone who wants to attend can, but I need you there, along with anyone at Skykomish with any clout.”

“We’ve still got a lot of wounded,” Hank said, “I don’t know how—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Austin said. “We need to talk. Anyone who can make it in without it jeopardizing their condition.”

“Sure,” Hank said. “Of course.”

“We need a united front,” Austin said. “That’s very important, Hank. Now more than ever.”

Hank gave him a serious, understanding look and marched off to spread the word.

About an hour later, the schoolroom was almost as packed as it had been at the last meeting, but the mood was very different. Where before there had been tentative curiosity, now there was desperation, anger, and fear.

“Why are we still here?” one man called. “They could be coming now!”

They hadn’t yet begun the meeting, and most of the folks in there were still deciding where to sit or stand. There was a brief, concerned titter across the crowd, but Austin just waved at the man to show he’d heard him. The man stood fairly short, and behind two other women Austin guessed were his daughters from how similar they looked. Austin saw the man was leaning on a cane and swaying on the spot.

Even if the man wanted to run, it would be difficult. As long as they had vehicles, there was a chance, but if things got worse, lots of people might run out of options.

It could be done, Austin thought. With one of the trucks. But cross-country on foot? Impossible.

“Thank you,” Austin said. “Thank you for coming and for having patience with us.”

There was another murmur, this one low and foreboding. It was an untrusting sound, though not one that was yet outwardly hostile.

“You’re scared,” Austin said, “and you’re angry.”

There were nods.

“I am too,” Austin said simply. “And we might leave, but it will not be something we do lightly or out of panic.”

“Maybe we should panic!” one woman said. “Seems like a pretty good time to.”

With that, about half the crowd began yelling at the woman to be quiet and sit down, totally oblivious to that irony. Many others began shouting in agreement.

“No,” Amanda called. “If we panic, we die. It’s that simple.”

“That’s right,” Austin said. “We’re going to talk this out, and we’re going to decide together. Act as one.”

The crowd calmed, although to Austin it looked more like they were just waiting for the next piece of bad news rather than actually having calmed down at all. Then again, this was life and death. For the community, and every individual at Skykomish, down to the last child.

“Can we do that?” he asked earnestly.

Nobody said no, and for a few moments, nobody said anything at all.

“What about a vote?” he asked. “Would you all agree to that?”

Faces in the crowd started to nod, and still nobody spoke up against the idea.

“Okay then,” Austin said, taking a moment to think. “All in favor of evacuating Skykomish Camp as soon as possible?”

Austin put his hand up, as did everyone else in his own group, and then Hank too. Slowly, across the crowd, others joined them, and soon the room was full of raised arms. Austin knew they had their answer. He looked at Amanda, who nodded solemnly at him. Whatever they had wanted, they were getting, and who knew how it would play out?

“All those against?” he asked.

There were a few raised hands, but such a majority had already voted that Austin expected there would probably be many more people against the decision than this voting turnout suggested. Still, it didn’t matter; the vote had been cast.

“Well,” Austin said, “I think that’s the right decision. The only pressing question straight away is where we go.”

“South!” somebody called. “We could head down to Oregon and hide in the desert. Harney County.”

“We wouldn’t make it,” Hank answered. “Even if we did, without a solid place to hole up, we’d be dead in no time. All it’ll take is for Koble to find us, and she will.”

“There are gangs on the road, too,” a woman said.

She was small, birdlike with light brown hair. In her eyes was fear but something else more telling.

She knows, Austin thought. She’s seen.

“That too,” Hank said. “That kind of traveling, Bert, without wanting to shoot your idea down, it’s just too risky.”

The man who’d spoken adjusted the wire spectacles on his face and shrugged to concede the argument.

“What about the military base?” someone else asked. “Lewis-McChord?”

“It would be good,” Hank said, “but intelligence says Koble’s got people there. And that goes for pretty much every existing Army or Air Force base around here. Save for Fairchild, which was razed to the ground five months back.”

“What about the old base?” Wayne asked.

Wayne was one of the older fighters at Skykomish base, and his beard was almost as much salt as it was pepper.

“What old base?” Austin asked.

“White House?” Hank asked. “We left it for a reason, Wayne.”

“We did,” Wayne said, “but that was before Koble.”

“Koble was always—”

“Hank,” Wayne said, “it wasn’t like this. This is a direct threat. We can’t hide here.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to—”

“Where else?” Wayne asked.

He looked at Austin and repeated the question.

“Where else, Austin?”

Austin looked at the crowd. Some of them were speaking among themselves, and some were looking at Wayne now sitting back in his chair, calmly waiting for Austin’s response. And most of the crowd was watching Austin and waiting for the same thing.

“What was wrong with it?” Austin asked. “The old base.”

“Hank,” Wayne said, gesturing for him to go ahead.

There was no animosity between the two men, or none that Austin could detect. It was clear they respected each other, and among the fighters, Wayne might have been one of the few who would take up against Hank over something major and in such a public setting.

Hank scratched his head.

“Well, let me see,” he said. “It’s a darn middle school in Monroe. It served us well enough for a time, but I never thought of it as somewhere to hole up during wartime. The plumbing was shot, and some of the walls were down by the time we left.”

“But it has walls?” Austin asked.

“It had walls,” Hank said cautiously. “We haven’t scouted anywhere near Monroe for weeks. We don’t even know if it’s still standing. Koble could have flattened it. Even moved in.”

“I don’t see it,” Wayne said. “But I can see it as a place of refuge for us. Somewhere to gather our strength while we get on with—”

He broke off and twirled his hand in a “whatever they’re doing” gesture toward Austin and Amanda, who’d now moved to Austin’s side.

“What else?” Amanda asked. “Any other weaknesses? We’ve—you’ve, all of you—lost so much since everything that’s happened with Koble. What could compromise us if we move to Monroe?”

“We only really left White House because we discovered Skykomish,” Wayne said. “If it hadn’t been for Parkinson’s party finding Skykomish, we might have made it work. We might have just stayed.”

“That’s true,” Cathy said.

“Who’s going to lead us now?” Wayne asked. “What about you, Hank?”

“I would,” Hank said, stepping forward, “at least I would if I thought I was the best man for the job. But I’m not.”

He looked at Austin, but Austin had already guessed the man’s purpose. It’d been obvious somehow, or perhaps it only felt that way now he could see the earnest look on Hank’s face watching him. For his leadership qualities, Austin had already thought Hank enjoyed his role at Skykomish that, while senior, worked from the sidelines. Mason had been the boss, and he’d been the one everyone looked to for security.

That security now swung in the balance.

“Hank—” Austin began.

“We’ve already been over this,” Hank said. “Only before, we had Mason.”

There was a dead silence in the room for a moment, broken only by the scraping of someone’s chair on the floor as they shifted it somewhere in the crowd.

“Now,” Hank continued, “we don’t. You’ve shown your competency. You know what has to be done, and you’re willing to do it, and we’re willing to help you. And you know Koble.”

“That’s right,” Wayne said.

“Perhaps better than anybody,” Hank said.

“It should be you, Austin,” Wayne said.

“I think so too,” Cathy said.

Now there were other responses from the crowd, and not all of them were positive. Still, Austin felt he couldn’t speak until the din of conversation and argument faded. In the end, it was Amanda calling for order. Austin could see the start of a smile at the corners of her mouth.

Really, woman? he thought. Give me a darn break.

“Okay,” Austin said, lifting his hand.

The crowd fell quiet.

Maybe it was the best option, and no other willing contenders were throwing their lot into the discussion. There was no doubt that with the people of Skykomish behind him, Austin stood a better chance of securing a life for the people he cared about. Even for the country as a whole.

“I’ll do it,” he said. “But I think we should take a vote again.”

“Austin, that’s—”

“No, Hank,” Austin said. “I’m not willing to start something wrong now. It’s not a risk we can afford to take.”

They took another fast vote. All those willing to have Austin as the camp leader, and all those who’d rather elect somebody else. Almost everybody held their hand up on the first vote, and only a few bothered to vote against Austin leading the group.

“We’re leaving,” Austin said abruptly, once the vote was done. “Take only what is essential, because the trucks will need to be prioritized to carry people and weapons.”

“What weapons?” someone said, somewhat snottily. “We barely have any ammunition left!”

“We have ammunition,” Austin said, “and we’ll take everything we have, and we’ll look for more on the way. How far is the old base?”

“The old base and the new base,” Hank said, smiling. “Maybe thirty miles west. A little more, perhaps.”

“That’s enough ground to find something,” Austin said. “Any military bases or depots on the way?”

“Probably nothing that hasn’t been stripped out by now,” Hank said.

“There are weapons out there,” Wayne said. “It’s just a matter of time.”

“Agreed,” Austin said. “And we’ll talk. We’ll figure it all out, but right now, I don’t know what else needs to be said.”

The crowd was quiet.

“Does anybody have anything to say?” Amanda called out. “Because if there’s any real problem with Austin taking over command of Skykomish, this is the time and place to let it be known.”

Nobody spoke, and save for a few people turning around to see if anyone might speak up from behind them, hardly anybody moved at all.

The Skykomish rebels quickly gathered supplies and began to load up the remaining vehicles. At least one of the trucks had been irreparably damaged during the firefight at the camp. Austin felt a shiver go through him at the thought, no, the only recent memory of seeing campers shot down in cold blood, shot in the back by Koble’s people who’d managed to slip inside during the battle at Skykomish.

After all, wasn’t that exactly why they were leaving?

“How are we looking for ammo?” Austin asked Amanda. “Was he right?”

“We’ve got some rifle ammo,” she said. “For the ARs, I mean, but not much. Shotgun shells we’re good on, and we’ve got a lot of nine mil parabellum.”

“So, we need more?”

“We always need more, Austin,” she said. “Especially if we’re digging into this new place and preparing for a siege.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Austin said.

“Then we’re going to need enough ammo to break out in case that happens, anyway,” she said. “But we’ll do what we’ve always done.”

She stroked his back.

“We’ll manage,” he said.

Austin and Amanda between them helped direct the campers in loading up the supplies and provisions for the Skykomish exodus, but there was enough tension in the air to spur most people on without much encouragement.

Austin helped people load things up and made sure to direct them in taking what would be most helpful. He suggested they take down all the rechargeable electric lamps they’d been using to light the inside common areas of the camps. Anything that might give some familiar domestic sense would be invaluable in the uncomfortable coming move.

Amanda nudged Austin and pointed.

Erik Davis was coming out of the trees about thirty yards from the edge of the camp, visible through the open south gate. He was carrying a large, green bag, like a refuse bag you might use to dump hedge trimmings or weeds. He was walking with a strange, ducklike furtiveness that was almost comedic. At the same time, he was looking one way and then the other.

Austin looked away before he could lock eyes with the man.

“Austin,” Hank said, “we’re almost ready, I think. Are you ready?”

Austin looked at Hank, who read the concern on his face.

“You okay?” Hank asked.

“I’m fine,” Austin said. “And yes, I’m ready. I think we’re all ready.”

Austin and the rest of the group, rounded up by Andy and the dogs, headed for the truck that’d bear them to the new camp. Austin helped Andy get his few personal possessions into the back of the truck, then helped the boy himself up.

Davis was late but promptly climbed up into the driver’s seat of the truck and turned on the ignition.

“Wait!” someone cried. “Austin, come quickly!”

Austin stepped up onto the shallow barrier at the back of the truck bed and saw a man standing shaking before them. He thought his name was Shawn, one of the camp’s engineers who’d helped make repairs after Koble’s attack.

“Shawn, right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” the man said, “but it’s Sarah.”

“Sarah?” Austin asked.

“She’s dead,” Shawn said. “We found her body.”

Austin felt the familiar icy hole growing in his stomach.

“Where?” he said low.

He saw Shawn’s eyes glance at Andy sitting with the dogs. Austin looked at the boy and thought he seemed to have shrunk in on himself, and the dogs noticed too. They were close to him, like they could guard him with their warmth, but there was no guarding against the fear of what was happening. The community seemed to be rotting from within.

“Not here, then,” Austin said.

He jumped down from the truck bed and ran around to Davis’s driver’s side window, and the man wound the window down.

“What is it?” Davis asked. “Did I hear right?”

“They’ve found Sarah’s body,” Austin said. “We need to delay until I know what’s happened.”

“Sure,” Davis said gruffly, “but we should be on the move soon, I think.”

“We will be,” Austin said.

Shawn waved at him, and Austin followed.

Shawn led him and Amanda toward a small storage shed just behind the medical center. Inside, Austin could already detect a scent that was for now as subtle as it was unmistakable. The onset of putrefaction.

“How long?” Austin said.

“I don’t know,” Amanda said. “But it’s cool in here, out of the sun, and obviously no one’s been in here since she was killed.”

“Except for the killer,” Shawn added.

“I guess it happened shortly after Jones was killed,” Amanda said.

They didn’t need to discuss how the woman had been murdered, because the murder weapon was still there. A thick electrical cord was wrapped twice around her neck and had been tightened to the point of turning the skin around it black like long-rotten fruit. Her face was bloated and staring in an obscene expression of surprise.

“We have to broach this carefully,” Austin said. “We don’t want a panic.”

“More of a panic,” Shawn said.

“Right,” Austin said. “And they don’t need the gory details.”

“But, Austin,” Amanda said, shaking her head. “Who?”

“That’s the problem,” Austin said. “I have no idea.”

22

The drive to the new, or old, base wasn’t the fastest thirty-mile drive Amanda could remember ever taking, but it sure felt like it.

They had arrived before she knew it, and she chalked that up to the fact that her head was so filled with buzzing thoughts. About what lay ahead of them, and what behind. About the snake among them.

The abandoned middle school the rest of the group had been reminiscing about was pretty much as she’d expected. A light-colored, concrete building similar to the one she’d attended as a middle schooler, if a bit bigger. There were some other buildings flanking the main structure, which Amanda thought might be certain departments, but they were of the same light concrete construction. Most of the school’s buildings appeared to be intact, though Hank had already warned them on the way of some of the specific damage done to it.

“It was when Koble cleared the whole area out that the base’s limitations showed,” he said. “To be honest, a part of me wonders why we’re going back, but then—”

“It’s the best chance we’ve got,” Davis said.

Amanda looked at the driver, surprised he’d spoken during the kind of conversation he was usually liable to leave to other people. She was even more surprised when he doubled down.

“That Skykomish base was something,” he continued, “but we’d have been trapped there like rats, and there’s no argument to that.”

“I guess not,” Hank said.

“I mean, heck,” Davis said, “most of it was made of wood. It’s a darn mystery they didn’t just take a flamethrower to Skykomish and be done with it.”

“I’m glad they didn’t,” Austin said.

“Well, gee, mister,” Davis snapped, “I reckon we all are.”

“Thank you, Davis,” Hank said. “And yes, you make good points.”

“So what kind of damage are we talking about now?” Amanda asked.

Davis slowed the vehicle as they drove around to the front of the school with about thirty yards of overgrown lawn grass in front of it. Hank cleared his throat and scratched his head, as if recalling the details of those final moments before their last evacuation.

“You can’t see from here,” he said, “but we had to cut off most of the back buildings.”

“Cut off?” Austin asked.

“Boom!” Davis said.

“Charges,” Hank said, “planted at strategic points to cause the building to collapse. Nothing like a pile of rubble to stop the enemy in their tracks.”

“It’s a shame, though,” Amanda said, “that it got so bad you had to sabotage your own place.”

“It was never to be permanent,” Hank said. “Now Skykomish—”

He broke off, but he didn’t need to finish. Everybody knew what he’d meant, and Amanda thought most people probably thought something similar. Still, such a mindset was still defeatist. After all, weren’t they fighting against Koble in the hope that society might be repaired in the long term—that the lights might eventually turn back on and stay on? Who would have stayed at Skykomish then?

“It’ll serve fine now,” Hank said. “And it’ll keep us safe.”

“Although,” Davis said quietly, “Koble knows about it.”

“At this point,” Amanda said, “I think we should be very careful in assuming there’s anything Koble doesn’t know.”

Nobody answered that point—probably another one everybody perceived as better left unspoken. Davis pulled up in front of the school.

“Stay in the truck for now,” he said gruffly. “I’m gonna have a look up and down the street.”

Hank looked at Amanda with his eyes wide. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who had noticed Davis trying a little harder. Either that or he was naturally coming around, and that didn’t seem likely.

“Sure,” Hank said a little unsteadily.

“What’s up with him?” Amanda asked.

“I wonder,” Austin said. “Although—”

She looked at him and saw him glance at the others in the truck.

“Never mind,” he said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Apart from that,” Hank said, “once we’re inside, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a total mess. Probably looks like a bomb went—”

Amanda raised an eyebrow before he could finish.

“Well,” he said, “I guess there was a lot of that generally. And I’d say it’s almost certain the place has been picked clean. Good thing we found what we did on the way.”

While driving on Route 2 on their way to Monroe, they’d found a small circle of vehicles parked at the side of the road. It looked for all the world to Amanda like some kind of drug deal meet in a glitzy eighties movie, but weapons had seemed a much more likely commodity to trade. She wasn’t wrong.

They’d inspected the scene first. There were other trucks behind them, but Amanda’s was taking the lead. It was their responsibility to ensure there wasn’t any kind of ambush or hold-up waiting for them.

They’d found bodies, and though there wasn’t much left, they found two wooden crates that had guns inside them. Nothing too special, but a couple of assault rifles, some other smaller arms, an automatic shotgun, and varying amounts of ammunition for each.

“Koble?” Hank had asked.

“Who else?” Davis said.

He’d pressed his toe into the shoulder of one of the bodies, and Austin gave him a light but firm shove to express his disgust. Davis had just grumbled and walked back toward the truck.

“Whatever you’re doing,” he said, “do it fast so we can get out of here. These guys didn’t die long ago, and someone’s gonna be here for their weapons. The last thing we need is a gunfight before we even get where we’re going—let alone being followed there.”

“He’s got a point,” Hank said. “Let’s be quick.”

They’d loaded the guns into the back of the truck, and Austin had put his feet up on the larger of the two wooden crates. They drove away from the site of the skirmish, and it wasn’t long before they were at the school.

Now Austin was out of the street, watching Davis looking up and down the roadway. Amanda looked too, peeling her eyes for any sign of movement. It didn’t seem likely the school would have just been left alone unless it had been totally compromised, but then again maybe everyone else thought it had.

“So, it’s just the back that’s ruined?” she asked.

“It was,” Hank said, “and the front looks all right for me, save for the blown-out windows, scorch marks, and a few bullet holes.”

That was an understatement—there were enough bullet holes and marks across the front-facing school buildings to make the whole thing look like some giant concrete pin cushion. The windows surely had been blown out, since Amanda didn’t doubt Hank’s recollection or the simple logic that any frontal assault on the building would’ve resulted in a lot of shattered glass, but it was hard to see for herself. All the windows had been boarded up, and even the front door had been covered with several heavy-looking planks.

“Yep,” Hank said, leaning out the back of the truck, “that’s the entrance. We boarded it up when we finally left.”

“I thought you were driven out?” Austin said.

He’d stopped looking the street up and down, obviously having seen nothing just like Amanda. Davis himself was now trudging back toward them doing his strange, jaunty walk. He had a vacant sort of frown on his face that, while devoid of friendliness, also didn’t speak of danger or alarm. He just looked like he always did: annoyed.

“We were,” Hank said, “but we saw the last wave off. It was a skirmish, really. We blew the last charges and managed to keep up enough cover fire to get out the front.”

“And you blocked it off?” Austin asked.

“They couldn’t follow us from the back,” Hank said. “And back then they weren’t just trying to kill everybody. Heck, they were trying to use us. Now I guess we’re beyond that.”

“You could say that again,” Davis said.

Hank and Austin ripped the boards off the entrance and moved into the school. They treated it as though they were clearing out a building on a scouting run. After all, until they’d confirmed the site as a viable option for their new base of operations, this was a scouting run.

“It’s clear,” Austin said.

They moved through each corridor and checked each of the school’s many classrooms and other facilities. Once the other trucks arrived, everyone else was moved into the property. They assigned everyone different living quarters with an understanding that new decisions or arrangements could be made once they’d settled into the buildings properly.

Amanda’s night was restless, and in the morning the mood was somber all around.

“We should establish defenses,” she told Austin as he dressed. “No time to lose.”

Austin agreed.

“Hey,” Amanda said, “where’s Lizzy?”

“Lizzy?”

“Yeah,” Amanda said. “Lizzy and Pete, her husband. They set up in the classroom just across the hall. All their stuff is gone.”

“You talking about Lizzy?” a young man asked.

It was Shawn. He was carrying a green packing crate like those used in produce stores to hold vegetables, only it was filled with clothes, provisions, and personal effects.

Amanda nodded.

“They split,” Shawn said. “I guess they didn’t think this place was all they expected. In all honesty, I thought it’d feel different once we got here, but now I’m wondering.”

“It’ll be fine,” Amanda said. “What did you expect?”

Shawn shrugged. “I guess I didn’t think we’d be traveling with a murderer in tow.”

Amanda paused and realized she had nothing to say in response. Shawn kept walking, lugging his things down the corridor toward his own quarters.

“He’s right,” Austin said quietly. “We can’t expect people to be okay with this. I’m not okay with this.”

“You think I am?” she asked.

“No. Of course not,” Austin said, “but we’re going to need to find a way out of this, and we need to be on our guard as long as we don’t know exactly what happened there.”

As they moved around the new base, speaking and listening to people, they noticed several others had left since arriving at the base. Evidently, they’d stayed with the evacuating group until they could get as far from Skykomish as possible, then had decided to try their chances alone on the road.

Amanda had to bite her tongue to not express just what a bad idea that seemed to her at this crucial moment, and only just after they’d witnessed signs of extreme violence on the road.

Austin called a meeting to discuss the rebels’ strengths and weaknesses, privately adding to Amanda and Hank that it might provide a good opportunity to survey the community for leads into Sarah’s murder and the snake among them.

They assembled in the school gymnasium. It was a conventional gym for a middle school, though perhaps larger like the rest of the building. It would have been cacophonous but for the large, butterfly-shaped sound-dampening panels attached high above the floor on the white painted walls.

“Hank wanted to start,” Austin said.

Both he and Hank stood among the crowd mostly sitting on blue foldout chairs taken from the giant trolley contraptions they’d been stacked on.

“Thanks, Austin,” Hank said. “Look, I’ll keep his simple. We’ve come too far to give up now. I know we’re all scared, and not just about Koble. But if one of our own is turning bad, then they are just one. The rest of us need to stick together. Now more than ever.”

“Hear, hear,” James called. “We can’t surrender.”

“We don’t want to surrender,” someone called, “but we don’t want to be murdered in our sleep, either!”

“Stop,” Austin called.

He barked out the word, and even Amanda jumped a little.

“We’re not here to discuss that,” Davis said. “But we should be talking about our dwindling numbers. I’ve already noticed how many people have cut and run even since we got here.”

He spat on the floor, causing several people to groan in disgust, and Amanda found herself still surprised at the unending repulsiveness of the man’s character. If he was trying to turn things around, his efforts were inconsistent at best.

“So,” Davis continued, “fewer people, and the locals that are left around here—”

“We haven’t—”

Hank had tried to cut in, but Davis cut him off.

“They’re around,” Davis said, “they’ve gotta be. And I saw signs outside, even if we didn’t see any people. The houses are miserable, but there are clothes drying outside some of them. I’ve seen smoke, from cooking or whatever. They’re just scared, these people. Beaten down because they know about Koble, and they know what’s coming!”

“All right, Davis,” Austin said.

“No, it’s not all right!” Davis yelled.

He was yelling with the fervor of some mega church preacher lamenting the inevitable doom of mankind and proselytizing with all the weight of a sure, fiery, and inevitable destination behind their words. He seemed to notice this even in himself and suddenly looked down, almost embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. “But without more weapons—yes, even more than we found at the side of the road back on Route 2—our chances of defeating Koble before another strike, before the final strike—”

He didn’t finish but just shook his head and sat back down behind Austin and Hank.

“Thank you, Davis,” Austin said. “And I’ll admit, to all of you now, things do look grim, but we’re still waiting on scouts to return from Tacoma where the rebels were interested in an alliance with us. They’ve been fighting the same fight we are, and if we work together, that’ll be a significant advantage.”

“How many people do they have?” a woman called.

“I don’t know,” Austin said without trying to find the person who’d spoken. “For obvious reasons, we don’t have good communication, but our scouts know the brief, and that’s just one thing they’ll be reporting back to us.”

Amanda watched the people in the school gymnasium and saw a new glimmer of hope flash across some of their anxious faces. “And an alliance with Tacoma doesn’t just mean new people,” she said, “but new weapons and supplies as well. Maybe.”

Hank took the floor and began running through the new defenses they were planning for White House Base.

“We’re thinking of strategic charges,” he said, “just like last time for those of you who remember. If we need to bail out, and I sincerely hope it does not come to that, we’ll have a way of covering ourselves again.”

Amanda was glad nobody pointed out that Koble’s people had already witnessed that strategy in place at White House Middle School, but it was still better than no contingency plan at all.

“We’ll have designated sentry points,” Hank continued. “And we’ll begin training again just as soon as we’re settled. Everyone who can shoot a gun should be able to. I will teach you, and I am not the only instructor. Heck, I know I’m not the best.”

There were a few scattered chuckles. Though Hank was not their commander and didn’t want to be, people still looked to him for comfort. That was and would still be a great help to all of them.

Hank didn’t get halfway through the defense plans before Shawn interrupted the meeting with a message. He ran first toward Hank, but Hank gave a subtle nod toward Austin. Amanda saw Shawn change course and walk up to Austin sitting beside her.

“The scouts have returned,” he said. “Only they—”

There was a heavy clang as someone depressed the crossbar on the double doors leading into the gymnasium and swung open the doors. Amanda saw it was the scouts they’d sent, only they were down one man. Jessica and Adam were here, but the third man, who Amanda thought had been called Chris, was missing.

Amanada judged Jessica to be in her mid-thirties, and she had military experience. Amanda had seen her training under Hank, and thought she seemed highly competent. She was always near the front of the pack jogging behind Hank. She also had a military bearing, but now, after the long, frantic journey back to the new base, she looked ragged. Adam was probably in his mid-twenties and Amanda recognized him from laboring around the camp. With heavy bags under his eyes and a hunched posture that looked strange on a young man, he looked exhausted.

Amanda had barely known Chris at all—and now, she never would.

“It’s no good,” Jessica said, “we just—”

“Jessica,” Hank called, “not here, just—”

“No, Hank,” Austin said grimly. “Everyone has the right to know. What is it, Jessica?”

She paused, only then fully aware of the number of faces looking at her from all around the gym. After a moment, she broke from that half trance and took a moment to order her thoughts.

“Tacoma is gone,” she said.

“The city?” someone cried.

Jessica shook her head.

“The base,” Adam said. “Koble hit it with missiles. Maybe some of them got out, but from what we saw there were no survivors.”

Austin stood.

Adam looked at Austin, all the others in the room surely doing the same thing.

“What do we do?” Adam asked.

23

There was a sudden, rushed sense of panic through the gathered crowd.

Now people weren’t just whispering and muttering to their neighbors; they were shouting at each other. Even with the acoustic treatment panels, the sound of conversation bounced off the walls until Austin could hardly hear himself think.

Even had he been alone, Austin wondered if he’d be able to get his thoughts straight with the news they’d just received.

“We have to leave,” he heard someone call.

There were a few shouts of support. The man who’d spoken was standing on the other side of the gymnasium, and Austin didn’t recognize him.

“Why not just take off?” the man said, his voice trembling. “We’ll just move far out, maybe south. So far she can’t keep up. So far we’re just not worth it!”

“We can’t,” Austin said firmly.

Some of the others on the other side of the hall seemed to hear him, but then they focused on the panicking man again.

“I said we can’t!” Austin yelled.

Then everyone stopped speaking. The man who’d been rousing those across the hall even sat down, watching Austin like a dog that’d been scolded for begging at the table. The others who’d been listening eyed him too, with looks varying between resignation, suspicion, and outright anger.

“That’s not an option,” Austin said. “Because we’ve been marked.”

“Marked?” Hank said.

Hank was looking at him now, and for the first time Austin saw fear in the man’s eyes.

“That’s right,” Austin said. “We’ve seen it before with the way Koble works. But she knows about me, and she knows about Hank. She knew about Mason, and all the others that have stood up to her.”

“And what about us?” a woman asked.

“You too,” Austin said. “All of you.”

The silence was now razor-sharp in the room. Time itself was stuck fast, like any sound or movement might topple it from existing at all.

“You, too, are marked,” Austin said. “Because Skykomish fighters killed Koble’s people, and her lieutenant Jones’s people. Heck, for all we know to a certainty, Koble might think we killed Jones. Even if we flee now, and even if we get out of Washington, and yes, even to a different region of the country entirely, we won’t be rid of her. We won’t be rid of this.”

“We’ll be followed,” Hank said distantly.

“That’s right,” Austin said. “With superior numbers, equipment, vehicles, communication. And that’s all before she’s got the power back online—and all to her benefit, remember.”

The silence held.

“She has the manpower, and she has the weaponry, and now that Tacoma has fallen, we are short of allies. We have to rely on ourselves and on our defenses. Out there—”

He didn’t finish the point and didn’t feel he needed to.

“But we are fighting for our freedom,” Austin said. “We’re fighting for justice for those killed by Koble and the psychopaths she’s recruited.”

“Okay,” the man who’d been rousing the others said. “Okay, fine. I get it.”

“We have to fight,” a woman near him said. “It’s that simple. Fight or die.”

Austin nodded grimly.

Everyone else seemed convinced, but Austin couldn’t help but notice Davis rolling his eyes. Even with Davis’s already public desperation and anger at the situation, the man was still seeing the worst in their efforts. For now, he would let sleeping jerks lie.

“We have to find out where Koble’s base is,” Austin said. “That’s imperative.”

“Crucial,” Hank said.

“James,” Austin said, “is there any new information from any of the civilians still living in the city?”

“No news,” James said abruptly.

Austin gave him a short, quizzical look he didn’t intend, but it got James to elaborate all the same.

“Nobody’s talking,” James said. “Everyone’s scared about reprisals from Koble, and paranoia’s now the law of the land. It’s driving everybody apart.”

Austin gave Amanda a quick look.

“Tell me about it,” he said. “Nobody knows who to trust anymore.”

“And that’s why we have to trust in each other,” James said, “or we might as well deliver ourselves to Koble’s people on a silver platter.”

“We should send more scouts out,” Austin said. “If the people in the city aren’t talking, we’ll have to go and see what’s happening ourselves. Any takers?”

Malachi, who’d been sitting quietly through the commotion, raised his hand. James did too. After that, more hands came up, and Austin made the selection.

“Good,” Austin told them all. “I want a meeting before you go to establish the aims and parameters of that mission. This is no time to go off half-cocked.”

The gathering dispersed, and everyone left the gymnasium in relative quiet. Back in their quarters, Austin and Amanda sat together.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“About?”

“What are we looking at here?” he asked. “Who’s lying?”

“Well,” she said, “Davis is the obvious answer to that.”

“There’s something I haven’t mentioned,” Austin said. “I couldn’t before, but I saw something odd yesterday. With Davis, I mean.”

She looked at him, interested.

“He was coming out of the woods—outside Skykomish—and he was carrying bags.”

“Like duffel bags or something?”

“No,” Austin said, “more like trash bags. You know, like you use for yard waste or something.”

“Well,” she said, “maybe he was trimming the topiary.”

“Very funny,” he said, “but he looked like he didn’t want to be seen.”

“But you saw him.”

“He’s not exactly a ninja,” Austin said. “And he didn’t see that I’d seen him, at least as far as I could tell.”

“He doesn’t seem much of an actor either,” Amanda said. “And he’s definitely never been interested in making friends. If he’s working the inside of the Skykomish community for Koble, he’s taken an interesting strategy toward it.”

Austin had already thought that. For all Davis’s rudeness since their first arrival in the camp, they had no reason to think he hadn’t been just as surly with practically everyone else at Skykomish before he and Hank had found Austin’s group near the landing strip at Skykomish. From Davis’s miserable reputation, it would be a sophisticated disguise, to repel almost all the people he might be spying on.

“I don’t think it’s him,” Austin said. “I don’t trust him, but I don’t think it’s him.”

“Neither do I.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and Austin listened for any sound outside their classroom quarters. It was probably nine o’clock, and the community—save those on guard duty—was settling in for the night. He heard the faint sound of talking and then laughter, and a small smile came to him.

There was still hope.

“Do you think the scouting trip is worth it?” Austin asked. “If there’s some kind of prob—”

There was a sudden ruckus from outside.

“What the—” Austin said.

Amanda took her Glock from the desk drawer, and Austin ran to the door. She was right behind him. Austin held up his hand, eased the door open, and slowly leaned out. There were people at the end of the corridor coming in from the front of the school. It was Hank, and Davis was in front of him.

Amanda tucked her pistol into the back of her waistband.

“Down there,” Hank said. “Come on, Davis.”

“Okay, jeez,” Davis said. “Take it easy, would ya?”

“What is this?” Austin said.

“Blown way out of proportion is what it is!” said Davis.

“Oh, Davis, shut up,” Hank said. “For once in your life, just shut up.”

Davis finally seemed to get the message.

“In there,” Austin said, pointing at the room opposite their quarters. “We can talk in there.”

Hank smiled weakly, but there was no warmth in it. He pushed Davis firmly in the small of the back to direct him into the room, and Davis cursed under his breath. The room was dark until Austin turned on one of the rechargeable lamps which washed the room in a dim, orange glow.

“What’s going on?” Austin asked.

Malachi walked between him, Hank, and Davis, and threw down a green bag just like the ones Austin had seen Davis carrying the other day at Skykomish Camp. Even without looking inside, Austin knew its contents. The pungent smell of marijuana filled the room, and Austin realized he’d actually smelled it from all the way down the corridor.

“This is probably why he’s been sneaking around so much,” Malachi said.

“I haven’t been sneaking,” Davis said.

“You have,” Austin said simply. “I saw you the other day, but you didn’t realize, did you?”

Davis watched him with quiet contempt.

“Is this your priority now?” Austin asked. “Is this what’s so important? So important you’d jeopardize the security of your own people for these solo escapades, going who knows where and doing who knows what with this?”

“I’m not jeopardizing anything,” Davis said. “Why do you think I’m even bothering with this? For fun?” He scoffed. “I don’t even smoke it. I just thought it might be good to barter with. How many people have time to cultivate this stuff anymore? Everyone’s too busy just trying to stay alive.”

“That’s exactly what we’re trying to do,” Hank said. “And that’s hard enough without us having to monitor your bull—”

“Hank,” Amanda said.

That was enough, and Hank held his tongue.

Austin thought for a moment and was glad he did. He wasn’t so annoyed at Davis’s cultivating or even trading the marijuana so much as at the man’s pigheaded unwillingness to involve them in his decisions or even consider how his actions might affect the community at large. There was simply no room in this organization for that kind of solo venture. Not when they were dealing with such dangerous people, and when so many lives hung in the balance.

“You’re lucky, Davis,” he said quietly.

“Oh yeah,” Davis said, “Lucky’s my middle name, man.”

Hank turned and stormed away, too annoyed now to trust himself to act with due consideration.

“No,” Austin said. “You’re lucky you know the area so well. You’re lucky you still have a use here, and that you’ve got people who’ve been willing to give you chance after chance.”

Davis, so focused on being caught with the drugs, hadn’t considered that his entire presence at the camp was now being drawn into question. His recent actions might just have been the straw that’d break the camel’s back, but Austin knew his words already suggested yet another chance.

“Stay away from Hank for the rest of the night,” Austin said. “You will if you’ve got a single brain cell in that head of yours.”

“I’ll stay away,” Davis said quietly.

“Good,” Austin said. “And you’ll follow instructions, and report to Hank in the morning, after I’ve had a chance to speak with him tonight.”

“No problem,” Davis said, going to leave.

“Davis,” Austin said.

The man looked back through the doorway to the corridor.

“Chances run out,” Austin said. “When yours run out, you’d best be far away from here, because there are a lot of angry, desperate people here. Desperate people are liable to do just about anything.”

“That a threat?” Davis said.

“No,” Austin said. “Enough blood’s been spilled, and I’ve got enough of it on my hands already. I don’t need you on my conscience.”

Davis snorted, but nodded. Without saying anything, he left, walking down the corridor in the opposite direction to Hank.

“I’ll talk to him,” Austin said to Amanda. “To Hank, I mean.”

“He’ll be okay,” Amanda said.

“We all will,” Malachi added.

With that, Malachi tied off the green bag containing the pungent bundles of green leaves and took it with him toward where they’d stored the weapons, in the teachers’ lounge just down from Austin and Amanda’s quarters.

“It’s hard enough fighting Koble,” Austin said. “But this?”

Amanda shook her head.

“Every day’s a new adventure,” she said.

And it was.

24

Malachi woke the next morning with a sense of urgency he didn’t quite understand.

He knew what was to come, at least in the short term. They would go into Seattle and learn what they could from the inhabitants, or failing that, from the evidence of their own eyes and ears. The chance that they’d run into Koble’s people was likely. The chance that they’d be able to handle themselves was also likely.

No matter what they throw at us, he thought, we just keep coming.

Still, eventually, something would have to give.

“I want you to go with Liam,” Austin said. “You know him?”

“Yeah,” Malachi said, “one of the younger soldiers. He was on the east wall during Koble’s attack.”

“That’s right,” Austin said. “Stick to him, and he’ll stick to you. I’ve already briefed him.”

“No problem,” Malachi said.

He turned to begin getting ready, but Austin held on to his arm.

“Locate Koble’s base,” Austin said. “Observe what you can, and then report back. Do not engage.”

Malachi bit his tongue and nodded slowly.

“I’m serious, Malachi. Do not engage. What I said last night—blood on my hands and whatnot—I mean it.”

“I understand,” Malachi said. “We will not engage.”

“Shoot back,” Austin said. “By all means you shoot back, but don’t look for a fight, and don’t give them one unless you have no other option.”

“Understood,” Malachi said.

The strange sense of the vital purpose in being here only seemed to be concentrating. Malachi thought he might be getting the shakes, and this was no time for that.

“There’ll be patrols,” Austin said. “Probably thicker the farther in toward the base. And be wary of the city’s remaining population.”

“You think they’ll have turned?”

“If they haven’t,” Austin said, “they may well rather report any unusual activity than face reprisals from Koble’s people. In fact, I’d bet my bottom dollar on it.”

Malachi nodded again.

“I’m proud of you,” Austin said. “And I need you home safe. Not just for your own sake, or even for ours. You need to come back to Savannah.”

“I will,” Malachi said quickly, meaning it with all his heart. “I will return, and I’ll bring something useful.”

“Just no heroics,” Austin said. “You’ve had your fair share already.”

On that note, they parted. Malachi took an inventory of the ammunition he’d kept on him. He still had a couple boxes of nine-millimeter ammo for his handgun, and he put those, along with a couple energy bars and some water in a steel canteen, into his pack. He slung the pack on his back and began walking down the corridor toward the school’s entrance.

Once outside, he climbed into the back of the truck where Liam and the rest of the team were already waiting. He reached up from the back of the truck and thumped twice with the flat of his palm on the truck’s roof, and then they started to move.

They arrived in the city outskirts, about five minutes down I-5 from the Route 2 exit.

“Let’s try to keep out of sight,” Malachi called into the front.

“Yeah,” the driver said.

Malachi looked at Hank who was stroking the barrel of his assault rifle. He’d barely spoken a word since they’d set out from Monroe.

The truck pulled onto a leafy residential road.

Jessica slowed the truck and pulled it discreetly between two parked cars on the side of the road. Malachi had to admit it was one of the finest parallel parking jobs he’d witnessed. They weren’t exactly out of sight, but amid the gray, urban sprawl, hiding in plain sight was likely their best option.

Once they were stopped, the team all hopped out of the back.

“Liam,” Malachi said, “you good?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I don’t usually go on scouting missions, but it’s not my first time.”

“I know you can handle yourself,” Malachi said. “Have you at least been to Seattle before?”

Liam nodded.

“Well,” Malachi said, “that’s definitely something.”

“Okay,” Hank said, “we’ll see what we can see and then meet back here in one hour. Has everybody got a timepiece or some way of monitoring the time?”

Every pair but one did, and Hank gave Jessica a spare Casio wristwatch from his pocket.

“Now I want that back,” he said.

Jessica nodded and thanked him.

“Out of sight when possible,” Hank said, “and remember, we’re not here for a fight. If you meet trouble, you get out as quickly and quietly as possible. Shooting is a last resort. What is it?”

“A last resort,” they all parroted.

“That’s right,” Hank said. “Back here in one hour—and don’t be late.”

They split up.

Malachi and Liam headed past, navigating empty streets and seeing the desolation and destruction that the city had come to. First under the dearth of activity and sustainability following the EMP, and then under Koble’s reign of terror. Most of the cars on the street were destroyed. Not only with their windows smashed out and engines gutted, but most had been set on fire.

“Good thing the cars near the truck were okay,” Liam said quietly, “or we’d have stuck out like a sore thumb.”

“Something tells me we still will,” Malachi said. “I don’t have a better plan, but Koble’s people already saw the kind of trucks we had.”

“I guess that depends on how vigilant they are,” Liam said, “and how much they’re expecting us to come here.”

Malachi laughed. “I’m guessing they’re not expecting that at all.”

Liam was quiet.

Occasionally, they saw movement behind dark windows and even heard muffled sounds of conversation or panicky footsteps getting quieter until whoever had been watching had retreated to a safe distance.

“They really are scared,” Liam said.

“Of course,” Malachi said. “They probably think we’re with Koble.”

“Why?”

“The guns,” Malachi suggested, “and the fact that nobody else probably comes here anymore. Just Koble and maybe the gangs that might as well be Koble’s, if they aren’t already.”

“Jeez,” Liam said. “How did it get so bad?”

“Power and ambition thrive in times like these,” Malachi said. “And there was no one to stop her, so why would she have stopped? This is her chance, and she’s taken it.”

“You stopped her,” Liam said.

“We did,” Malachi said. “In battles. Now we need to win the war.”

Despite the occasional signs of life, most of the buildings appeared uninhabitable. Some had been shelled to the point of looking more like rubble piles than residences or places of business. Anything that was still properly standing had been looted clean, save for some buildings that were chained or otherwise locked up tight.

“Should we try to take something back?” Liam asked. “Food? Ammunition?”

“If we happen to see it. We can’t go scavenging,” Malachi said. “Remember the brief: We’re here to learn and report back. Anything else is secondary.”

“Yeah.”

They walked down street after devastated street, seeing the same thing on each one. Cars, burned out or otherwise destroyed, blown-out lamplights and looted stores, leveled residences. There were no bodies. The one good thing, Malachi thought, was that it appeared most of the action had long passed.

“How much longer?” Liam asked.

“We should turn back,” Malachi said. “We’ll meet up with the others. See if they’ve had more luck.”

They turned around and started back down one of the streets they’d already checked.

Liam stopped.

Seconds later, Malachi saw what Liam had seen.

There was a woman standing in the doorway of a boarded-up store. TGI Gifts, the sign proclaimed, the G hanging precariously and looking about ready to drop.

She watched them for a moment, so still, Malachi had to quickly assert in his mind that she was really there. Not just a mannequin or some figment of his imagination. Then, she waved at them and removed all doubt.

“Hi,” Malachi said.

She suddenly looked irritated and waved again, quicker.

Together, Malachi and Liam made for the store, and she beckoned them inside.

“You let us in,” Malachi said, “just like that?”

“You ain’t with her,” the woman said.

“Her?” Liam asked.

“Don’t bother,” the woman said. “My name’s Lila. Names?”

“Malachi,” Malachi said. “And this is Liam.”

Liam nodded respectfully.

“And how do you know we’re not with her?” Malachi asked.

“You’re walking around looking pretty darn clueless,” she said. “Look like you’ve come correct and all, but you look way too curious in this deadbeat town to be with Koble. This place is old news to them, you know?”

“Yeah,” Malachi said. “Do you think you could help us?”

“I got nothing worth taking,” Lila said. “Unless you want probably a million dollars’ worth of trinkets in this stupid place. Nothing like the end of the darn world to make you realize how stupid all this stuff actually is.”

“Tell me about it,” Malachi said. “But we don’t want anything of yours. We just want some information.”

“I’ll tell you what I can,” she said. “Like for like, though, you know?”

Malachi nodded.

Lila gestured at two deck chairs already set up just before the first rows of goods in the enormous first floor of the store. She collected another one that was leaning up by the nearest register counter and set that up too.

“We can’t stay,” Malachi said.

“Have a seat,” she said. “Might as well be comfortable when death’s always just around the corner.”

“Cheery outlook,” Liam said.

They sat.

“Ain’t nothing to be cheery about, kid,” the woman said. “But even if I’ve got you for a few minutes, it’d be good to have some company that isn’t trying to kill me.”

“That bad, huh?” Liam asked.

She grimaced.

Malachi had thought the woman was in her mid-twenties, but now he saw her more clearly, he could see the thin lines on her face. She was at least ten years older than that, and maybe even older.

“There’s been a lot of weird stuff happening recently,” she said, easing back into her chair. “Lot of activity around the Columbia Center. We’re used to eking out a living here and occasionally having Koble’s boot catch us in the behind. Semi-regular patrols, and the occasional bombing or raid just as a show of strength. They know we’ve got nothing left worth taking.”

“No weapons then?” Liam said.

Malachi glanced at him, not wanting Lila to be thrown off course. She didn’t even look at Liam to acknowledge the question, and Malachi didn’t think it was because she was trying to evade it. She just didn’t know, and by the expression on her face, she didn’t think it was a venture worth even thinking about.

“You got a community?” Malachi asked.

“Two chairs,” she said smiling. “My partner still lives here with me, but we’re thinking of getting out. We know what she’s up to, and soon she’s gonna get the power back on. But that’s no kind of relief, you best believe it.”

“Right,” Malachi said. “What’s going on around the Columbia Center?”

“Buildings being cleared out,” Lila said. “Residents forced to vacate the area. Not a big loss on paper, you’d think, but for those people it’s remained home. Somehow.”

“You stayed,” Liam said.

“Yeah,” she said, chuckling. “And I’m still wondering what on earth I was thinking. I mean, just look what we’re left with.”

“Where’s the Columbia Center from here?” Malachi asked.

“You’ll wanna follow I-5 farther into the city,” Lila said. “Turn right at James Street, and you’ll be there. But I don’t recommend it.”

Malachi and Liam left Lila behind, hearing the sound of grating as she closed the doors and secured them with a heavy chain from the inside. They followed the course she’d given them, walking through rubble-strewn streets, now seeing more grisly signs of bloodshed.

“There’s blood here,” Liam said.

“I see it,” Malachi said.

He trod carefully, not wanting to put his foot in any of the ungodly mess. There were bodies now too, with bullet holes or other signs of serious trauma.

“This is recent,” Malachi said quietly. “And they might still be watching. Waiting for people to try to take away the dead.”

“We can use the cars,” Liam said. “Stay behind them.”

They did that, moving cautiously between abandoned vehicles and piled-up debris until they reached James Street and took a right. From there, they could observe the Columbia Center skyscraper.

It was in good condition, dwarfing the other, blown-out structures. Obviously, Koble’s people had been careful to be good to their new center of operations. The building was huge and dark gray, menacing and seemingly impenetrable. They watched from behind a van that’d crashed into the side of a large, redbrick building, itself destroyed on the other side.

“That’s gotta be it,” Liam said. “Right?”

“That’s it,” Malachi said.

“Think we can get closer?” Liam asked.

“We’re gonna have to,” Malachi said. “We’re too close to not make the most of it, and I don’t see anyone else.”

“Wasn’t that kinda the point?”

Malachi smiled.

They edged closer, still weaving through wrecked vehicles and rubble until they’d closed about half the distance between them and the Columbia Center. Malachi took a mental note of the number of guards visible patrolling the building—twelve at least on the outside, and who knew how many more inside. Most were walking around the building dressed in all-black clothing with body armor.

Those that were stationary were either standing right by the entrance to the building or stationed in the windows above. It was hard to spot them, but some of the windows were open and had sentries looking out.

After they’d been watching for a few minutes, a truck arrived from the northeast. The driver hopped out and went to the back, and though Malachi couldn’t see what the man was doing in the back of the truck, he reappeared a few moments later, crab-walking toward the steps leading to the Center entrance, carrying a heavy-looking wooden box.

“No weapons,” Malachi said grimly. “Yeah right.”

“She didn’t know,” Liam said. “I don’t think, anyway. I think this is new.”

“Hard to know for sure,” Malachi said.

Still, in his gut, he knew Liam was right.

This was new, and it wasn’t anything good. Not for them, and not for anybody worried about Koble having a monopoly on electric power in the United States. Malachi could tell Liam wasn’t comfortable being so close, but they were nearly done. They’d learned enough to have something useful to report back to the group.

“Seen enough?” Liam asked.

“Yeah,” Malachi said.

“Good,” Liam said, “because I can’t wait to get the he—”

Liam’s neck opened and blood squirted out, and only then did Malachi hear the shot. Liam slumped down, blood still running thick and red from his gaping neck. Liam blinked frantically several times, and then his eyes glazed over.

Malachi got low and back behind cover.

Some distance, he thought. Spotted.

He ran back toward the van, zigzagging as he did, bullets ricocheting off the asphalt behind and beneath him. He hadn’t adjusted to the fact that Liam was dead. The revelation was still barely a minute old, but it still spurred him on. He felt lactic acid building in his legs, the result of changing from a walk to an intense sprint.

He reached the van and took temporary cover there.

“Follow him!” he heard one of the guards call.

“Seriously?” he breathed.

He took off again, a straight sprint now, thinking he’d gained enough ground to discourage any more shots. Then he remembered the hit straight through Liam’s neck and almost second-guessed himself.

No time, he thought.

He went straight for a few more seconds, then felt a heavy thud in his right shoulder. There was no pain right away, but he knew he had been hit. He kept running, and a slow but steadily building sensation burned from the middle of his shoulder blade.

Flesh wound, he thought, desperately hoped.

It wasn’t a through-and-through, which meant they’d have to dig it out later.

Later.

He kept running, somehow even faster.

He dove behind a dumpster at the beginning of an alley on the left side of the street, risked a look around it, and saw there was nobody following him. At least nobody was visible within a hundred yards. He took some gauze from his gear bag, which was difficult because his right arm was already becoming numb.

Don’t let it be nerve damage, he thought. Just shock.

He reached around and pressed the wound as heavily as he could, then chanced another look.

Nobody coming, or not yet anyway.

He stanched the wound as best he could and stood up. He couldn’t run now. The right side of his upper body was sluggish, numb, and burning like it was on fire inside. He loped as quickly as he could, having to rely more than usual on his left arm to keep balance as he made for the truck.

It was just a mercy he wasn’t lost.

As he reached the truck, he saw Hank and James before either of them saw him. They weren’t even looking out because it looked like they were arguing. Hank was pacing around, and once Malachi was a little closer, he could hear him yelling. James was sitting on the step leading up toward the passenger side door with his hands on his knees.

“Hey,” Malachi croaked.

He was astonished at how weak the sound was. It was barely even formed into a word but rather a hideous, rattling wheeze.

Not good, he thought. He saw the ground and realized he was falling.

He heard himself crash on the sidewalk more than he felt it, and with the last reserves of his strength, he forced his neck to bend so he could look up at the two men.

“Malachi!”

Hank yelled his name and ran to meet him.

Not. Good.

25

He’ll be okay, Savannah thought, he will be okay.

She knew she didn’t know it for sure, wasn’t even certain if she believed it for sure, but she wasn’t ready to face that head-on just yet. There wasn’t any need. Not while Malachi lay there on the foldout bed they’d brought from Skykomish Camp, in Austin and Amanda’s quarters.

She was happy they’d brought him there rather than the quarters he shared with Andy. Andy had moved in with the grownups temporarily, because whether at Andy’s age or Malachi’s, when things got rough, they knew to stick together.

It was just normal to them now.

“Savannah,” Malachi croaked weakly.

“I’m here,” she said softly.

It wasn’t the first thing he’d said, but it was still good to hear him talk. He moved his head only a little and grimaced at the pain in his shoulder. Amanda had cleaned and dressed the wound, but only after the dirty work of removing the bullet.

“He needs antibiotics,” she said.

She was standing at the dresser and was cleaning the equipment with bottled rainwater taken from the temporary water collection system they’d made from White House’s west-side guttering.

“Have we got any?” Savannah asked, but she knew the answer.

“We’ll go into the city,” Amanda said. “Maybe get Hank and—”

“I’ll go,” Savannah said quickly.

Amanda looked at her and obviously saw there would be no stopping her.

“I tried to run,” Malachi whispered.

“I know,” Savannah said. “You did good.”

“Couldn’t help him,” Malachi said.

Savannah looked at Amanda, who nodded sadly.

“We should let him sleep,” Amanda said. “Let the drugs do their work.”

She beckoned Savannah, and the younger woman followed her out of the room, shutting the door carefully behind her.

“It’s Liam,” Amanda said. “He didn’t make it back. One of the others scouted it out and said the kid’s head just about came off.”

“Jeez.”

“It’s horrible,” Austin said, “but I’m just glad it wasn’t Malachi. That was way too close.”

He was sitting on a chair in the corridor, just outside the room.

“How’s the patient?” he asked.

“Stable,” Amanda said. “Savannah, I think he’s going to be fine. But we need to fight any infection.”

“So antibiotics,” Savannah said.

“Amoxicillin or penicillin,” Amanda said. “That’s what you’re most likely to find, anyway. Doctor’s offices, even a veterinarian clinic, or a pharmacy, but I doubt we’ll get that lucky. I don’t know if we have that kind of intel.”

“What about Davis?” Savannah asked.

Amanda looked at Austin.

“Sure,” Austin said. “Let’s put him to work. See if he can make himself useful again.”

Savannah gathered some people together for the mission into the city. Hank volunteered as soon as he heard the plan, and Davis agreed because he was going crazy with boredom sitting around the school with nothing to do, particularly since his illicit sideline activities had been so rudely curtailed.

“I guess I could help,” he said.

“It would mean a lot, Davis,” Savannah said.

“Yeah,” Hank said. “Make things right for the kid after he’s the one that had set you straight. Kinda poetic, don’t you think?”

Davis grumbled, mumbling something about getting the truck ready to go back into the city.

“Going back,” Hank said, “it feels wrong, but we don’t have a choice, do we?”

“No,” Savannah said. “I’m afraid we don’t.”

“We should take Jonathan as well,” Hank said. “He was on the east wall the morning of the attack at Skykomish, and he’ll be able to handle what comes.”

“Like Liam did?” Savannah said bitterly.

Hank looked briefly angry, then wounded.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry, Hank, I didn’t mean that.”

“I know, kid,” he said. “It just hurts. You never get used to losing people. Even if it was Davis. When they’re under your charge, it just hits you differently, I suppose.”

She nodded. Oddly, she felt the same about others they’d lost on the way.

“Jonathan then,” she said, “and Jake too. My dad says he’d be good.”

“I’ll tell them,” he said.

“So,” Davis said, strolling back in and spinning the truck’s keys on his finger, “what exactly are we looking for, miss?”

Hank rolled his eyes and went off to recruit the others for the trip.

“Medical supplies,” Savannah said. “We need antibiotics, so that means we’ll look at doctors’ clinics, vets, maybe even a pharmacy that stores—”

“A pharmacy?” Davis asked. “Everything’s been looted. Especially in the city.”

“We’ll find something,” she said firmly. “We’ll have to, and you’re going to be a part of that.”

Davis gritted his teeth and scratched his head.

“I do know a place,” he said. “But I don’t know for sure that it’s still secured. To be honest, unless someone knew about it, I don’t think it’s very easily found.”

“What is it?”

“A supply storage,” he said. “Somewhere secret. But it had medical supplies, first aid stuff mainly but some surgical tools and chemicals, and yes, drugs too. Antibiotics, I’m sure. Not only that but weapons, ammunition.”

“Malachi’s the priority,” Savannah said.

“Now I know that,” he snapped. “But while we’re there, ain’t no reason not to be tooling up for the fight, right?”

She couldn’t argue with that logic.

“How do you know about this place, Davis?”

He looked momentarily nervous and then forcibly relaxed himself.

“My friend,” he said.

She stared at him, and he realized the jig was up. There was no sense in embarrassing both of them.

“An acquaintance of mine,” he said. “Someone I used to do some work with. Chemicals, trades, you know.”

“Right,” she said.

“He had all kinds of—”

“Okay, Davis,” she said. “Say no more. Let’s just get ready and get in and out as fast as we can.”

Davis snapped his fingers and went back to spinning the keys on his finger. He turned around and made for the exit, presumably to carry on preparing for the new mission. As he walked he whistled, and Savannah thought that was simultaneously the most innocent and the creepiest thing she’d experienced in the recent weeks.

They headed out in the truck. Davis was at the wheel, and in the back together were Hank, Savannah, Jake, and Jonathan , the fighter from the east wall. It didn’t take them long to get to the city, but Hank said the ride was still longer than the last, fateful journey in.

“After what happened with Malachi,” he said, “I thought it’d be a good idea to vary our route. I wouldn’t want to risk anyone expecting us. They’ve had plenty of time to set up an ambush.”

“They’ll be expecting us,” Savannah said. “And that’s why we’ll not go anywhere near Columbia Center. Davis says it’s nowhere near.”

“Well,” Hank said, “I’m gonna be watching all the same.”

Hank had already told them about the devastation they’d seen on the last ride through Seattle, but now Savannah saw it for herself. Every car was wrecked or burned, and there were very few lights within the darkened buildings. It was only mid-afternoon, but the sky was a dark, ugly gray.

“Looks like rain,” Jonathan said.

“That’s Seattle,” Jake said. “Great town though.”

“It was,” Hank said.

Savannah wondered how many people had left the city. First, in the early days, and then in more recent times, when Koble had moved in and established martial law. She wondered how many had died, and just how much of the spirit of the city had been irreparably torn away from itself. A city was more than just bricks and concrete, plumbing and electric. It was its people.

A city is its people, she thought.

By that logic, there might be no true cities left in America. At least the America she still had any solid conception of. Now there were disparate communities and wandering nomads, vagabonds going nowhere, because nowhere would have them without consuming them or changing them. And the idea that it was safest and most successful on the road was almost too awful to bear.

If there aren’t cities, she thought, then there will be.

One day, there would be.

Davis brought the truck to a stop, and Savannah heard him get out and slam the door.

“Come on,” he said, coming round the truck’s bed. “We’ll go on foot from here. I remember just where it is, but you better stay close. Lots of winding streets around here, and not much room to maneuver.”

“We’ve got guns,” Jonathan said.

Davis snorted.

“Guns?” he said. “We’re in unfamiliar territory and likely outnumbered. If we’re pinned down, we’re dead.”

“You said you knew this place,” Hank said quietly.

“I do,” Davis said. “But I haven’t been here in months. I wouldn’t presume to still know what the place is like, especially with all that’s gone on.”

“Then let’s go,” Hank said.

“Not yet,” Davis said. “I better hide the truck. You guys wait here, and I’m gonna get that garage open.”

Davis turned around and walked over to a commercial garage just next to where he’d parked. To Savannah’s deep surprise, he managed to lift one of the red metal garage doors with ease, almost like he’d known about it beforehand.

“I guess he does know the area,” Jake said.

“I stopped being surprised a while back,” Hank said, then laughed coldly. “Or at least, I thought I had.”

Davis walked back to them without saying anything. He hopped back up into the driver’s seat of the truck and reversed it deftly into the open garage. There were still a couple of inches of clearance, but it looked tight. That hadn’t stopped or even slowed Davis in his parking job, and before she knew it, he was back out of the truck, locking the door and then pulling the garage door closed behind him.

“All right,” Savannah said. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Hank made a bit of a show of flourishing his hand, inviting Davis to lead them along.

Davis snorted again and started walking away from the truck, down a street shaded by overhanging trees. It seemed, oddly, too narrow as they walked down it, eventually to the point that two cars couldn’t pass each other. One would have to stop.

As he walked, Davis rested his hand on the sidearm at his right side, and Savannah did the same. It was always good to feel the reassuring cold of her steel. She could tell the others were nervous as well, but Davis had said it wouldn’t be a long walk.

He led them along twisting streets and down alleys barely broad enough in some places even for them to walk single file. Davis groaned as he worked his mass through the tighter spots, but he never faltered in his navigation. It was clear, wherever they were bound, he’d done the journey many times before.

“You trust him?” Hank whispered.

She was walking right behind Davis, and the truth was, she didn’t fully trust him. She did trust, however, that he was the quickest and most direct route to getting Malachi what he needed to get better. And that took precedence over all else.

“I trust us,” she said. “And I know we’ll do the right thing. And I don’t think it’s a trap.”

“Not a trap,” Hank said, “but something, I don’t know.”

Davis stopped them outside a small storage unit. There was another garage-style door, but it was much narrower. It was almost red too, but not with paint. It might’ve been green originally, but the paint had flaked off apart from a few scattered islands of dull, crusty green. Most of it was blood-brown with rust, and Savannah thought that for a secret supply storage, it was perfectly nondescript.

There was a large yellow padlock on the thick chain that secured the door. The padlock looked to be fairly new, and that would’ve been the only sign there might be anything of value inside. Even the location of the lock itself was a deterrent. Who, without prior knowledge, would think to look so deep into these winding streets and alleyways?

Just then, Savannah felt their position was very vulnerable.

“Well, Davis,” Hank said, “it’s gorgeous. Let’s do something about that padlock.”

Jake lifted his rifle, but Davis gently pressed down on the barrel.

“Here,” he said.

He produced a small key from his pocket, but then Savannah saw it wasn’t a key. Not any kind of key she’d seen before anyway, but a straight implement that looked more like some kind of specialist screwdriver.

“Security lock,” Davis said. “Much harder to pick, and even harder to replicate a key. Mind you, there can’t be that much worry about that anymore.”

“Yeah,” Hank said. “Much easier to just kick the darn door in.”

“Well,” Davis said, “doesn’t look like anybody’s done that yet.”

Davis put the key-thing in and turned it. There was an ugly clunk as the padlock came unclasped, and Davis took it off the chain and put it into his pocket. He pulled the chain loose from the door handle and left it hanging at the side. There was a hideous screech as he lifted the rusty door, which ran on sliders parallel to the storage unit’s ceiling.

It was dark inside, and the closeness of the alleyway outside did not allow much natural light. Davis began fumbling around the left side of the unlocked entrance.

“There might even be—” he said.

And then some dim yellow lights came on around the inside.

“Ha!” he said. “Residual power from the generator. Amazing how long it’ll keep in some systems, huh?”

Nobody responded. They were too busy looking at the mess of supplies in front of them.

The place hadn’t been looted. On the contrary, it looked more like the abode of some hoarder with an obsession for medical objects and consumables. There was shelf after shelf in the relatively small room, all filled with different supplies.

“We’ll find them in here,” Hank said, “surely. That and just about anything else on earth we could ever need.”

“Maybe,” Savannah said. “But I’ll be happy when we’ve got what we need in hand.”

They began their search. Savannah ripped open box after cardboard box, finding packs of latex gloves and syringes, overalls and bed liners and just about everything else she could think of. After only five minutes of searching, Hank let out an excited yelp.

“I’ve got it!” he said. “Amoxicillin, yeah?”

“That’ll do it,” Davis said. “Right, Savannah?”

She was a little taken aback.

“Let me see,” she said.

She ran over and looked. The box said Amoxicillin Capsules, USP, 250mg, 180 Capsules.

“That’s it,” she said, feeling butterflies in her stomach. “We’ve got it. Take more if we can.”

“We can,” Davis said. “That kid’s gonna be all right. Now, let’s have a look at what else we can find.”

Nobody argued. They’d come all this way and found what they needed in barely any time at all. Savannah knew it would be stupid not to spend five more minutes taking whatever else they could. There was ammunition, as Davis had said. Mostly it was shotgun and handgun ammo, but there were a few rifle cartridges there too.

They took it all.

“No one else gonna miss this?” Hank asked suspiciously. “No one gonna come looking for it?”

“Nope,” Davis said.

“You sure, Davis?” Hank asked. “Because you said this was someone you knew. And if they know you, they probably know who you were teamed up with, and that’d lead them to us.”

“Knew is the operative word, Hank,” Davis said. “Why don’t we just leave it at that?”

Hank grunted, perhaps a little embarrassed, and dropped the issue.

They all filled their backpacks with anything useful. Ammo, a couple of handguns that were left in a drawer under a worksurface, a couple of knives, and a lot of medical stuff. Mainly drugs, other antibiotics, but dressings and other consumables too.

“Let’s go,” Savannah said, “we’ve got enough.”

Once outside, they locked the storage barn again and started back the way they came. They got out of the alleyway and onto the first broader street, then heard the sound of an approaching vehicle.

“Get down,” Hank hissed.

There wasn’t time to go back the way they came. The vehicle was almost on them, and if they’d made a break for it, they’d certainly be seen. They might be able to lose them in the alleyways, but there was no telling what would happen after that, or how they’d navigate back to the truck and make it out with the lifesaving drugs for Malachi.

It just wasn’t worth it.

They dove behind a large electrical box which had been left open, the wires all ripped out. Savannah looked around the edge and saw a black Humvee rolling slowly along the road toward them.

“Koble’s people,” she whispered. “Nobody move.”

The Humvee came to a halt just past them, and a man jumped down. Savannah peeked out again and saw he was facing the other way.

“Go,” she said quietly.

Jake and Jonathan went first, then Davis, and finally her and Hank. They heard nothing as they went slowly, quietly back toward the barn, but then heard the faint sound of the Humvee’s engine turning over, and then the hum of it driving away.

“That was close,” Davis said.

“Too close,” Hank said. “We’ve got what we need. Savannah?”

“We should head back,” she said. “Davis?”

“This way,” he said.

He took them another route, explaining he wouldn’t want to risk the chance that someone from the Humvee had slyly followed them in silence, which Savannah appreciated. Before long, they were back at the garage, and Davis was pulling the garage door back open.

They headed back to the new base.

26

Voss was perturbed.

He was a man who liked sure things, even if that’s the last thing he’d want himself described as. For other people, he was happy to be as changing and unfettered as a high wind. Ambiguity was a form of camouflage, he knew. It was helpful to stay vague and on the move because it made other people uncomfortable.

That would make them either vulnerable or dangerous, but the danger was always mainly to themselves. People made mistakes when they panicked. Now that Austin Merryman and his rat family had gotten away yet again, that was a very unsure thing. A dangerous ambiguity, and he didn’t like it.

“You lost them,” Lydia Koble said.

She was rubbing the top of her left hand with the fingers of her right. She wore blood-red nail polish Voss noticed was cracked and flaking, though he knew she’d only applied it a couple days before. Like so many others in the organization, Koble was showing the early signs of cracking under the pressure.

“I did,” he admitted. “And barely got away with my life.”

“Your life,” she said.

He didn’t even know how to take that, but suspected she was weighing him up against so many other commodities. He, however, was a specialized product. Some might have found that idea insulting or dehumanizing, but it was realistic.

Koble’s office was brightly lit. The generators were running, but there’d been cracks in that system too. That was, to Voss, a nice thing. No matter how stable things got, they could always go south. Voss’s bread and butter was when systems started to go wrong, when things broke down, and then when all hope was lost.

He would swoop in and take what he wanted.

Everyone else just wanted the lights to come on and the sockets to work. Overhead, the fluorescent lights flickered for a moment, then stabilized again.

“What’s next?” he asked.

“I was rather hoping you’d tell me,” Koble said. “What news from your man inside the mountain community?”

“They’ve moved,” he said. “My informant tells me they’re holed up in some middle school in Monroe.”

“Monroe?”

“It’s west of Skykomish where they were before,” Voss said.

“I know where it is,” she snapped.

He smiled and nodded respectfully.

“They’re losing numbers,” he said. “Some of their people are fed up with the instability and have jumped ship.”

“Serious numbers?”

“A few families, individuals here and there,” Voss said. “Nothing too major, but these things have a propensity to snowball.”

“They do,” she said.

“Lydia.”

She looked up at him, and for a moment, she looked strangely beautiful. The thought was absurd, and he pushed it away with no effort at all, as though good sense had automatically expunged it from his mind.

“Why not just wipe them out?” he asked. “Once and for all. Let me take one hundred men armed to the teeth, plenty of hardware. We’ll take out every last one of them. Kill the rebels once and for all.”

“I won’t risk it,” Koble said. “I appreciate your point, but Merryman’s a slippery one. He’s wriggled out of our nets before, and this is not the only rebellion I’m thinking about.”

“Of course—”

“I know it’s the one you’re thinking about,” she said.

His eyes narrowed a little.

“Because you’re the one who always wins,” she said, “and yet, you haven’t won against these, have you, Voss?”

“I want to do things properly,” he said evenly. “That’s all.”

“And I want us to prosper,” she said. “I want us to do more than survive.”

“We cannot survive while these rats—”

“I have other people to consider, Voss,” Koble snapped. “There are other rebels, other communities, and my forces are stretched thin. I can’t afford to keep throwing men at this. Our people are dying.”

“Then—”

“They’re like insects,” she said absently.

Her eyes strayed from him, up to the fluorescent strips above his head. He could hear the buzzing and knew she was staring into the bright, white light. She looked odd, staring up and past him like that. Almost like she was possessed by a strange and evil spirit. A monster from one of those horror flicks he’d liked as a child.

Like other things, other frivolities, he’d given them up.

Now, electricity or no electricity, there was enough horror in the world.

In me, he thought and smiled.

“They’re like mosquitos,” she said. “You can’t kill them just by swatting them. There are just too many. We need a system.”

“Artillery,” he said. “If you won’t do it with men, do it all with hardware. Once NEXUS is online we can—”

“Hit them all at once,” she said, still looking past him. “Just like Tacoma.”

“Still,” Voss said, “I wouldn’t want to leave Merryman as a loose end without sending someone to deal with him directly.”

“Like you did before,” Koble said.

“Only with finality.”

“And you think you could—”

Koble broke off as overhead the fluorescent lights flickered like crazy, then turned off for a few seconds. They came back on after more intermittent flickering and stabilized back into emitting their obnoxious, oscillating drone.

“Nothing seems to work,” she said. “Even when NEXUS is fully operational, it’ll just be a matter of keeping it running. Where does it end?”

Voss smiled, making his face as kind and understanding as he could.

“I suppose the privilege of your position, Madam,” he said, “is that you could be the one to decide what kind of end it would be. You’d be the one with your finger on the button, so to speak.”

“Hated,” she said.

“Public opinion,” Voss said. “Just the lowing of so many sheep. You don’t really care what they think.”

She laughed hollowly, and he knew it was true. He just wondered if she realized herself. He had known empty people before, better he supposed than they knew themselves, but it was a grotesque behavior to observe in real-time, even for someone with his iron stomach.

As long as the lights were flickering off and on again, and as long as Lydia Koble was uncomfortable in her rise to total domination of the northern states, and then beyond, he would have a place. And once he didn’t, he’d travel again and find some other power network to exploit.

It was the oldest tale he knew, and the original game.

“Speaking of hatred,” Koble said, “what of Austin Merryman? What specifically would you do to him?”

“I don’t know, Lydia,” Voss said. “I would want to find out what he knows, first of all. He and that band of heathens he’s surrounded himself with. Not just the family, but the rebel group out of Skykomish.”

“The mountain community,” she said.

“That’s right.”

“You think they’re behind what’s been happening,” she said, “with Jones and so on?”

“I know it,” Voss said.

“Him, then,” Koble said, “or us.”

Voss nodded.

Overhead, the lights flickered off again, but Koble did not outwardly react.

The situation was becoming tense.

Perfect.

27

Malachi opened his eyes, and for the first time he could remember since being brought back to the new base, his first thought wasn’t of the burning pain in his shoulder.

This time, he thought immediately of the people he saw gathered around him. There was Austin and Amanda, and right beside him was Savannah. Even the dogs were there, and he strained to see them.

“Oh no you don’t,” Savannah said, gently pressing his good shoulder to keep him still against the bed. “That’s the last thing you need.”

“What happened?” he asked.

“You don’t remember?” Austin asked. “You’ve been awake before now, kid.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I know, I just—”

He suddenly became aware that Andy wasn’t there.

“Where’s the kid?” he asked. “He okay?”

“He’s fine,” Savannah said, smiling. “He’s playing with Ben and Hank. They’re fast friends now, those two kids.”

“That’s good,” Malachi said.

“I for one,” Savannah said, “am much more worried about you.”

“Me?” Malachi said stupidly.

“You got shot,” she said. “Right shoulder. It got lodged inside, and Amanda dug it out. You’re on a course of antibiotics, and you’re getting better. Your wound’s been cleaned and dressed, and you’re on the road to recovery.”

“How’s that for a headline?” Austin asked, grinning.

“Dad,” Savannah said.

“No,” Malachi said, “that’s actually very helpful. Thank you, all of you.”

“Thank Davis,” Savannah said tightly.

“Davis?”

“That’s right,” Savannah said. “He’s the one who led us to the storage spot where we picked up your antibiotics. If you’d got an infection after such a deep wound, it might have been goodbye, Malachi.”

“Yeah,” Austin said. “Not easy to amputate a shoulder, you know?”

Amanda looked up, momentarily horrified. “Austin. Come on.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

There was still a small smile on his face, and Malachi couldn’t help returning it.

“We’re just happy you’re up and talking, kid,” Austin said. “That is, talking properly, and not just the nonsense you’ve been coming up with until now.”

“He’s medicated, Dad,” Savannah said. “It’s not his fault.”

Austin shrugged.

“Is there anything you can tell us?” Austin asked. “Anything you learned in Seattle, I mean?”

“Dad, can’t this wait?”

“No,” Malachi said. “I don’t think it can, and I’ll be happy to tell you what little I know, but there’s not a whole lot. I’m sorry, but we watched them for minutes before they opened fire. Before Liam—”

He broke off, not wanting to relive the moment, but already doing so. All it took was saying—no, just thinking the young man’s name. The young man who was still a few years older than he was, but who had seemed so much younger at heart.

Now, he would never grow old.

“I know where the base is,” Malachi said. “At the Columbia Center in Seattle.”

“That matches some of the recent intel,” Austin said.

The others were looking at him confused, Malachi included.

“Hank said they had reports from some people in the city,” Austin continued. “That more buildings were being raided than usual in the city center, and that a load of civilians had been moved out, but they didn’t know why.”

“That’s what Lila told us,” Malachi said.

“Lila?” Savannah asked.

“Some woman we met,” Malachi said. “I told Hank about it.”

“And Hank told me,” Austin said. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Columbia’s right by there,” Amanda said. “In the center.”

Austin bit his lip.

“But why would they want to move people out of their residences?” Malachi asked. “Just because they’re close by?”

“Protecting their activities, I guess,” Austin said. “Or maybe Koble’s getting paranoid, or just jealous of her space. If I was taking over an entire population, the last thing I’d want to see is that expression on their faces, the reminder of what a monster I’d become.”

“I’m not sure she cares,” Malachi said.

“But that’s where the base is?” Amanda asked urgently.

“Columbia Center,” Malachi repeated.

“Guards?” Austin asked.

“At least twelve stationed outside,” Malachi said. “A lot more inside. I saw them watching from the windows. Snipers probably.”

“Great,” Austin said.

“Nothing unexpected,” Malachi said. “Until I got shot.”

Austin nodded, thinking.

“The moving patrols seem to follow a tight route,” Malachi said. “I’m guessing they swap over after however long, I don’t know how long. I made a note of the routes I saw in action. There’s no guarantee on them, but I’d be surprised if the system’s changed. It worked for them, I guess.”

“Weapons?” Austin asked.

“More of the same,” Malachi said. “Armed with automatic weapons and wearing body armor. It’s mostly military-grade stuff by the look of it, but nothing particularly special. They looked like—”

He paused, thinking a moment.

“Go on,” Amanda said.

“They looked like some of the soldiers we saw before,” Malachi said. “Before we even knew about Koble. When it was all about—”

“Craven,” Austin said distantly. “Zander Craven.”

Malachi nodded.

“It’s the same,” Austin said, still sounding distant.

He stood up and walked over to the window, looking out at the morning sun still low in the sky. Malachi could see the sun from his bed, shining behind Austin’s head and giving the man a strange, orange glow. It made him look like an angel, or perhaps some enormous, talking sunflower.

“I think,” he said slowly, “maybe I should taper off the drugs.”

“The antibiotics?” Savannah asked.

“Painkillers,” Amanda said. “Nothing strong.”

“Unfortunately,” Malachi said.

“You’ll be okay, kid,” Amanda said. “One step at a time, but let’s not go too nuts too soon, you know?”

Malachi grunted.

“Really, Malachi,” she said. “You took a nasty shot out there. If you hadn’t had medical treatment, and especially if that wound of yours had turned septic, I don’t think we’d be having this conversation right now.”

“What’s next?” he asked, uninterested in the hypothetical.

“Well,” Austin said cautiously.

Malachi caught him glancing between both Savannah and Amanda, as if trying to estimate their reaction to what he was about to say.

“With this information,” Austin continued, “we could begin to plan a surprise attack.”

“On the base,” Amanda said.

“Of course,” Austin said.

They were quiet for a moment.

“How do we actually know Koble is inside?” Savannah asked.

“We don’t,” Austin said. “But taking the offensive to them has got to divert them from killing us here.”

“Or it’ll just provoke her to wipe us out in one go,” Amanda said.

“If she could do that,” Austin said measuredly, “why hasn’t she already done it?”

More quiet.

“We don’t know she’s inside,” Austin said. “Not for sure. She could move, or maybe she already has, but we need to do something. Even before we think about taking the fight there, though, there are other concerns.”

“Austin,” Malachi said.

Austin looked up, but Malachi broke off.

Savannah held her tongue as Malachi tried a second time to reposition himself in bed. This time, she didn’t stop him, and this time he succeeded. He groaned but eased himself into a half-sitting position against the pillows. Savannah came around and bunched them up for him, angling them a little against the mattress to better support his lower back.

“What is it, Malachi?” Austin asked.

“Just before they picked me up,” Malachi said, “just after I’d been shot, I managed to get back to the truck, and I saw Hank and James.”

Austin nodded.

“It looked,” Malachi said, pausing. “It looked like Hank was really mad with him.”

“This is one of those other concerns,” Austin said. “I can handle being short on ammo, or not knowing how to split our forces if it came to a defense, but I can’t handle not trusting the people closest to me.”

“Hank?” Savannah asked.

“James,” Austin said.

“You knew him before,” Amanda said, “that’s gotta count for something.”

“Before,” Austin said. “Everything was different then, and I don’t know that I ever saw James in the kind of vulnerable position he’s in now. A man will do all sorts of things when he’s desperate.”

“So,” Malachi said, “what does Hank say James did?”

“Nothing solid,” Austin said. “But he was out of contact for the time he was in Seattle. He was partnered with Hank but split away from him for most of the time they were out. That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“No,” Malachi said. “It wasn’t. But why would James allow himself to be teamed with Hank if he wanted to slink away?”

“Cut out the middleman?” Amanda suggested. “Like if he could get one over on Hank, it would save him having to defend duping anyone else to Hank later.”

“I can see it,” Austin said. “It’s bold. But if I’m honest, there are other things niggling at me.”

“About James?” Amanda asked.

“He’s changed,” Austin said. “Even for the changing times, he’s not like I remember him. The way he talks at meetings—it’s all just a little overblown, don’t you think?”

“All for one and one for all?” Savannah said.

“A bit too Shakespeare,” Austin said, “and that is most definitely not how I remember James Carnelly.”

“He’s the star scout,” Malachi said. “He’s been on every single mission into enemy territory.”

“Exactly,” Austin said.

Malachi felt something catch in his throat and swallowed hard to shift it. Part of him still couldn’t believe they were having this conversation.

“He’s had a way out of the base,” Austin said, “away from prying eyes and able to do whatever the heck he likes, or has been tasked with, for months.”

“The traitor,” Malachi whispered.

“Somebody leaking information,” Austin said quietly.

Malachi looked at the closed entrance to the room, half expecting to see the shadow of someone just through the frosted glass of the classroom door. A James-shaped silhouette that’d scuttle away at the mention of those dangerous words.

Traitor, he thought. Leaking information.

“We can’t carry on then,” Malachi said. “Not until we know. But how can we know?”

“It’s not just that,” Austin said, “but it got me thinking about Snoqualmie.”

“Not—” Amanda started saying, but stopped herself.

“I didn’t say anything yet, Amanda,” Austin said, “because I didn’t want to have to say it twice, especially in the middle of the community here. But yes, James was the last one to see Mason before he died, and the last in line as your team came down from the upper levels.”

“But they were friends,” Amanda said.

“They were close,” Austin said. “Close enough for James to do something unthinkable and not be suspected.”

“Until now,” Malachi said.

“Leaking information is one thing,” Austin said, “and it’s unforgivable in itself, but we don’t have enough to convict James of any of this. Especially for the rest of the community. They’re gonna hear this and assume we’re losing our minds, or even just looking for a scapegoat while things aren’t going so well. Some people are leaving, and everyone is scared.”

It was so quiet then, for the first time that day Malachi could hear Andy and the other boy playing outside. The dogs were barking, and every now and then he could hear Hank’s loud, boisterous laugh.

Like some loud and rowdy uncle from his own childhood.

“So,” he said slowly, “what do we do?”

“We catch him,” Amanda said simply.

“Okay,” Malachi said. “How?”

“If we want to nail him,” Amanda said, “and we have to, then we need to set a trap. Get him to prove to us, beyond any doubt, that he’s the one who’s been feeding information to Koble’s people. Find out what’s been going on and see through the lies. And then we’ll be in a position to judge about what may or may not have happened with Mason at the plant.”

“And if it comes to nothing?” Savannah asked.

“If it comes to nothing,” Amanda said, “then our suspicions will be proven incorrect. But that comes with a host of other problems.”

“Because we still won’t know who’s been speaking,” Austin said. “And we’ll be back at square one.”

“Somehow,” Amanda said, “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Malachi was suddenly overcome with a new weariness, one deeper and more unpleasant than the dopey feeling he’d had from whatever painkillers or relaxants they’d dosed him with after the injury. He felt himself sliding back down into the bed and yawned heavily.

“Shall we?” he heard Austin say.

The others moved away from him, and he heard the door open and close. Savannah stayed, placing one hand on his brow. He was suddenly, ridiculously, conscious about how sweaty it might be, but she just stroked it and then stroked his hair.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Malachi, I—”

“No, Savannah,” he said insistently. “Thank you for saving my life.”

She hushed him and kissed him once very lightly on the forehead.

Once she was gone, his last thoughts weren’t just of that peace, but of a fear that James—

The traitor.

—or whoever the traitor was, would come for him.

He turned uncomfortably, knowing he was almost out for the count, and he saw the outline of Savannah and Amanda outside the room standing guard.

That was enough, and finally, he felt free to rest again.

28

Amanda was happy with their plan to flush out the rat.

She didn’t know if it was James, but it wouldn’t have surprised her. Very little surprised her anymore, especially when it came to the dregs of human behavior. Things had gotten too bad for too long for anything to seem especially out of the new ordinary.

Still, she hurt for Austin.

It would be strange for him, to meet a man he’d known long ago in another life, only to have that familiarity wrenched away like all the others. Like family and friendships from before, and a career. Being able to take a hot bath in his own home, with music playing in the background, or just veg out with a microwave meal in front of the TV.

Man, she thought, that was never us anyway.

It could have been a lot worse for them if that’d been the kind of reality they’d clung to. But that had never been an option, even from day one after the EMP.

Austin had gathered a few core members of the group, including Amanda, Hank, James, and Jake. Only Austin and Amanda knew about the trap being laid, but that would mean careful engineering to make sure nobody else was put in harm’s way. Or that nobody else could possibly screw up an already sensitive plan.

They met in what once would have been the teachers’ lounge. On the wall was a whiteboard with faint outlines of long-erased writing still stained into it. Austin tried several pens on a narrow ledge just beneath it, finally finding one that wasn’t too faded. The weapons were here too, under lock and key in the metal boxes they’d been transported in from Skykomish, and were periodically guarded under Hank’s command.

“What’s going on?” Hank asked. “We moving on Koble?”

Austin turned and sat with the others around the table.

“Not yet, Hank,” Austin said.

Hank looked genuinely disappointed.

Amanda knew he was getting restless. He’d been on the fence about reclaiming the old base, partially because of logical reservations, and partly because of bad memories. Too much inactivity, sitting around while Koble continued to consolidate her power, would only let all that bad stuff fester.

“We can’t move yet, Hank,” she said. “We don’t even know if Koble’s holed up in Columbia.”

“She is,” he said. “I know she is.”

“You don’t,” James said. “With all due respect, I mean, Hank. But you don’t.”

Amanda resisted the urge to look at Austin, knowing it wouldn’t do any good.

“We’ve located a stash of explosives,” Austin said abruptly. “Just north of the city, in the outskirts.”

“Where?” James asked.

Austin waited a moment, wanting to measure James’s reaction.

“Lake City,” he said. “East of I-5 and north of the city center.”

“I know it,” James said.

“Me too,” Hank said.

“If we can get our hands on these,” Austin said, “they could turn the tide in the case of an attack on Koble’s base. Now it’s true we don’t know if she’s there—Amanda’s right about that—but even if she isn’t, breaking that place open with some munitions could make a heck of a point. If she is inside, we can take her out in the panic.”

“We win both ways,” James said, grinning. “Where exactly are these munitions? And what are we talking? Plastics?”

“Yes,” Austin said, “plastic explosives. Maybe C-4. Even after all this time, I’m no expert.”

“It’ll be C-4,” Amanda said. “It’s all basically the same anyway. But we need to be careful.”

“We will be,” Hank said. “We always are.”

Austin stood again, took the one decent pen from his pocket and began jotting details for the mission on the whiteboard. He wrote:

Lake City PD, 1142, 95th

“A police station?” Hank said.

“Abandoned,” Austin said. “At least we think it is. It should be. The weapons should be in an evidence locker, but all the doors have been blown out or otherwise compromised.”

“But the munitions haven’t,” Amanda said.

“No,” Austin said. “Looks like whoever blew through there in the past was more interested in having a good time than giving others a bad one, if you catch my drift.”

“Well,” Hank said dryly, “we’ve got Davis for that, huh?”

“That’s not funny, Hank,” James said. “We better all stick together on this, lest we fall together, you know?”

Hank raised one eyebrow and shook his head dismissively.

“If there were weapons visible,” Austin said, “I guess we can consider them gone. But the munitions should be there. They were kept a secret.”

“Who’s sourcing this intel?” James asked.

“Kate,” Austin said sadly. “Before she died. She told me about it.”

“May she rest,” James said solemnly.

Everyone shuffled in their seats a little, and even James gave a meek smile, sensing that he’d made things at least a little awkward.

If it’s him, Amanda thought, watching James, he’s gonna be in for a world of hurt when it comes out.

She couldn’t even imagine Hank’s reaction on finding out that James had been a rat all along, but didn’t that raise another question? Just how long had James been compromised? Could it really have been from the very beginning?

It boggled the mind.

Then again, she thought of Wendell from what felt like a lifetime ago, and the other snakes they’d had in their midst. It all seemed normal, kosher, until it wasn’t. Until the person you’d thought was your friend turned out to be willing to sell you for just a little more.

“When are we gonna do this?” James asked.

Austin pointed at James as though he was glad he’d asked the question.

“Tomorrow,” Austin said.

He circled back to the whiteboard and wrote in block letters beneath the location information the word MIDDAY.

“For this,” he continued, “we’re gonna need volunteers.”

Amanda raised her hand, as did Hank, Jake, and James.

“I don’t think you should go, Hank,” Austin said. “We need you here. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you spending so much time away from the community. They love you, Hank.”

“I’ve got people I trust to leave in charge,” Hank said. “It’s because they respect me that I’ve got to go. I’m not missing this one, Austin.”

Austin knew looking in his eyes there’d be no talking him out of it.

“Okay,” he said, then turning to the others. “Jake, James, you two will go with Amanda. It’s too critical to screw up. We’ll choose a few others. This is too critical for us to screw up.”

“Agreed,” James said.

After discussing a few more of the mission’s parameters, Austin ended the meeting. He gave Amanda a quick knowing look that said, “let’s see.”

Amanda saw James standing just outside a pair of open fire doors leading onto the playground. She walked over to him and saw he was smoking a cigarette, blowing the smoke into the oncoming wind.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” she said.

“You want one?”

“No way,” she said, chuckling.

“Smart,” he said. “Man, sometimes I wonder how I even got here.”

“The community?”

“Nah,” he said. “Just like here. In this position. Part of one group against all others. It just feels strange, how tribal things got.”

“I don’t know if it’s tribal,” Amanda said. “It’s just people looking out for those they care about, right?”

James took a long drag.

“Right,” he said.

“Hey,” she said, smiling, “how about you join us for dinner tonight? We’ve got some decent rations we’ve been saving. Roast beef, or that’s what it calls itself anyway.”

James looked genuinely shocked for a moment, but then the look was replaced with a kind but apologetic expression.

“Oh, Amanda,” he said, “that’s very kind, but I’m gonna have to decline.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve got, I guess you’d say, a prior engagement.”

“Anyone special?” she said, grinning.

“Oh, nothing like that,” he said. “Just an old buddy I haven’t seen in a while.”

“In the camp?”

“Of course,” he said quickly. “Todd Ranbacher. He always worked on engineering projects, so I never really had too much cause to work with him at Skykomish, but we go way back. It’d be good to chat with him before we take the ride out tomorrow.”

“No,” she said, “of course.”

“I kinda consider myself living on borrowed time now,” James said. “And with this big push coming up, I don’t see things necessarily getting better.”

“That’s no way to think, James.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m just glad we have each other. All of us, I mean. I don’t know what I’d do without it.”

I’ve got some idea, Amanda thought.

“Anyway,” James said, “I’d better leave you to it.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, James. We’ll meet at dawn to go over the brief.”

“Yes,” he said. “You know this could be the thing that turns the tide in our favor. This might be how we finally get to Koble.”

Amanda nodded.

“I’ll see you bright and early then,” he said. “You enjoy your imitation beef.”

He chuckled, and she laughed too, hoping it didn’t sound as false as it felt.

“Tomorrow,” she said.

She watched him go, flicking his cigarette as he did.

It landed on the playground asphalt and smoked a few seconds longer before burning out. Amanda watched him go, walking around the building toward one of the other entrances, probably toward the other corridor of classrooms where his quarters were.

She closed the fire doors and smelled the air, which finally was fresh after his cigarette, and then she tried to commit their conversation to memory.

Late that night, Amanda waited outside.

She was crouched in the long grass at the edge of the lawn in front of the school. There was a small patch of woods there on the northwest corner, and if she needed to, she could retreat even farther back from the long grass and into the trees.

She didn’t think it would come to that.

She hid for hours after nightfall, but only after midnight did she finally see James leave his quarters and slink out of a different set of fire doors. This time, he carefully shut the doors behind him, but he was careful to latch them so he could get back in the same way.

She saw James walking quickly, moving away from the school in a straight line until he reached the street. There was something at his side, and then she saw it was a satchel with the strap looped over his right shoulder. The bag bobbed against his side—it was impossible to tell what was inside.

James headed in another almost straight line east through Monroe. She followed at a distance of forty to fifty yards. It was unlikely he’d lose her on foot, especially if he didn’t even realize he was being tailed. She wouldn’t want to get much closer on the off chance he would turn back.

Anything could happen.

She could hit a wayward glass bottle with her foot and give the whole game away. Or anything else could happen and cause his attention to turn to something behind him, and then he’d spot her. Who knew what James would resort to if he realized he’d been seen?

She moved carefully and quietly, maintaining that distance using cars and alleys and storefronts for cover.

Once James reached the city outskirts, almost at the city limits, he stopped.

He had stopped at a T-intersection, beneath the long-dead hanging traffic lights. The moon was high in the sky and almost full, giving plenty of natural light. Her eyes had adjusted well to the darkness, and now she crouched behind a Honda coupe with smashed-out windows.

She wanted to see the expression on James’s face, but he was looking the other way.

What are you waiting for? she wondered. Or who?

She got her answer—or some kind of answer—less than ten minutes afterward. By then she’d got sick of crouching with her knees bent and had sat leaning up against one of the Honda’s wheel arches, peeking out carefully so she could keep her eyes on her mark.

She heard the low rumble of an engine in the distance, but she knew that even here at the outskirts of suburban Monroe, it was built-up enough to deaden any truly far-off sounds. Thirty seconds later, she saw the orange glow of approaching headlights.

The Humvee pulled to a stop, giving an ugly, rusty screech as the brakes were applied, right beside James. She saw James put his hands up to show he was no threat, and then several armed men dressed in all black got out of the Humvee. For his part, James didn’t look worried at all, at least from this distance.

She still couldn’t see the look on his face, but from his body language and the confident way he was carrying himself, this wasn’t the first time he’d had a meeting like this with these people. Either that, or he was doing a great job of faking it. And they were Koble’s people, of that Amanda was sure. It was clear from the Humvee alone, but the men in black combat gear with assault rifles were enough to confirm it.

“Oh, James,” she breathed. “What are you doing?”

She watched him lift the satchel from his side and open it. He reached within and then passed one of the armed men something she couldn’t make out.

Darn it, she thought.

She dared not get any closer, but without knowing exactly what it was James was handing over, the intelligence gained from this little nighttime excursion was limited. Still, Austin’s suspicions had been all but verified.

James was betraying them, and probably had been for a long time.

She waited for James to be done with the meeting, then watched the armed men climb back into the Humvee. The driver turned the great steel and aluminum monster around and took it back the way they’d come. Amanda was careful to maneuver around the Honda as James came past. She had briefly considered heading back before him, but that meant leaving before his exchange with Koble’s people was through.

She couldn’t afford to miss anything.

He passed her without seeming to suspect anything, and she let him get ahead again. On the way back, she let him lead by closer to sixty yards. She already knew where he was going and wouldn’t risk being spotted at this late stage.

By the time she got back in, Austin was still up and waiting for an update.

She told him with just a nod.

“I knew it,” he hissed. “How long?”

“No way of knowing,” she said, “until we put it to him directly.”

“We can’t do that yet.”

“No,” she said, “he’ll just run. Do you know a Todd Ranbacher?”

“I think he’s one of the engineers. Why?”

“He was James’s alibi for not having dinner with us,” she said.

“We can check if they know each other,” Austin said. “Do you think he’ll tell Koble we made him?”

“I don’t even know if he’s got direct access to her,” Amanda said. “If I were Koble, I wouldn’t let some double agent from the very community that’s given me the most trouble within firing distance of me. I’m guessing he’s dealing with some underlings. Like those creeps in the Humvee tonight.”

“Still,” Austin said, “if she—or whoever—finds out he’s been rooted out here, they might just make him disappear.”

“Yeah,” Amanda said bitterly. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

“I agree,” Austin said, “but talk about desperate. He’d do just about anything to avoid that, including putting the Skykomish community in the ground once and for all.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” Austin asked.

“She wants you,” Amanda said. “Jones, Voss, and everyone that came before. Even Ezekiel, Austin, they all tried to kill you and couldn’t. She won’t forget that, and I don’t think she’ll stop until she knows you’re dead.”

“Because I’m a pain in the butt?”

“Because you represent the resistance,” she said. “And because you’ve got people behind you. She’ll want to cut that snake’s head off.”

“I’m a snake’s head?”

“Please, Austin,” she said.

He’d worn a goofy smile with that, but now it faded.

“I’m gonna call another meeting,” he said. “Hank and Davis—”

“Davis?”

“He screwed up,” Austin said, “but I think we can trust him. If he didn’t turn on us or just tuck tail and bail after that weed nonsense, I think he’ll be useful.”

“Well,” she said, “he’s proved useful so far.”

“Like Hank says, he just keeps surprising.”

Amanda nodded.

“We’ll talk, just the three of us,” Austin said, “maybe a couple of others at Hank’s discretion, but we need to get this right. We need a plan. I’ll go over it with you ahead of time, of course. So we’re on the same page.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Koble’s base,” Austin said. “It is Columbia, or something’s at Columbia, and we’re gonna level it.”

“IEDs?”

“That’s right,” he said. “And I’m gonna lead that venture, while you—”

“I’m not coming with?”

“You deal with James,” Austin said. “And take out the reinforcements that try to spoil the party at Columbia. We’re finally taking the fight to her.”

29

Amanda gathered the fighters before dawn.

Austin was off preparing his own team for the assault on Koble’s stronghold while Amanda sought out people she could depend on for her own team. They could expect Koble’s people at the abandoned police station James had almost certainly blabbed about, and then they’d have to deal with James himself. She hadn’t fully decided how to do that, but she doubted there’d be any argument against charging him with wrongdoing. Not with the evidence they had against him and how much his dishonesty could affect the group for the worse.

She had Jake on her team and trusted him as one of the most experienced and tactically minded soldiers the rebels had.

“What is it with James?” he’d asked.

They had been walking between the makeshift dormitories in White House, having just recruited three more people from rooms on the last corridor.

“I don’t want to say,” Amanda said. “Not yet, but you’ll know soon enough, Jake.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t want to keep you in the dark,” Amanda added, “but we need to agree to—”

“You don’t need to worry, Amanda. I understand. I’d do the same thing.”

She smiled, and he just nodded.

If only everybody had been so easy to placate.

Davis had been grumbling more than ever since the news about the annihilation of the Tacoma base. If it wasn’t defeatism—and she was, in her heart, sure it wasn’t—it could sound a lot like it, and that wouldn’t do much good for the morale of the Skykomish community as a whole. Especially when Davis was perceived as part of the group’s inner circle.

But that’s me, she thought. Austin, me, Hank.

That was it. With Mason dead, and now a rapidly fading figure in the everyday reality of the camp, the former commander had been relegated to memory and legacy. Some of the community members seemed to lionize him, or just pine for him. Amanda suspected that was just the haze of nostalgia. From what she could tell, things had never really been good at Skykomish.

Since the EMP, things hadn’t really been good anywhere.

Good, and peace, were fading, ephemeral things. Just when you let yourself pause long enough to enjoy it, it became all too easy to notice the decay and expect the subsequent crashing into chaos that had become all too normal. It had happened in Grangeville, at the homestead in Idaho, and at Skykomish. It wouldn’t stop until Koble was gone, and perhaps until the country’s power was literally restored.

Once they’d loaded the gear and themselves onto the truck, Amanda took a moment to watch the team. She recognized most of them from the fighting at Skykomish Camp. She saw the looks Jake was giving James. Not hateful, not even angry. Just suspicious.

She couldn’t blame him—and hated having to keep people she trusted in the dark.

The alternative, however, could be catastrophic. If people’s imaginations got away with them, even if there seemed to be a firm foundation to the idea that James was a traitor, or at the very least up to no good, there could be infighting. And not the infighting they were used to during a community meeting, with everyone screaming one another down, all at loggerheads. The kind of infighting with bullets.

It could mean the end of the community.

The sun was only just coming up as they departed White House for the abandoned police station. Jessica drove, and was clearly happy they were headed there. She knew the location and said the building provided a lot of cover and the route wasn’t “too obvious.”

Nothing, Amanda thought, was safely obvious anymore—just as the most unlikely developments had become par for the course. By the time they arrived, it was only about eight o’clock, and despite the sun, it was proving to be a cold morning.

The police station was pretty much as Amanda had imagined.

They went inside, Amanda and James clearing the rooms together at the front, with Jake bringing up the rear. Jessica parked the truck facing outward toward the road they’d come in on, just in case they needed to make a rapid getaway.

“Clear,” James said.

He backed out of a small office behind the counter in the station lobby.

“Where are the weapons?” James asked. He sounded irritated.

“Intel said the armory,” Amanda said.

“Well,” James said, “let’s find the armory.”

“Finish the sweep first,” Amanda said firmly.

James looked away, and they kept sweeping. Amanda already had an idea of where the armory was. She’d spoken to Hank ahead of the mission, who said they’d probably find the armory in the back of the building. When they got there, it was unlocked, and Amanda motioned James to go ahead.

The armory was empty.

“What is this?” James asked. “What’s going on?”

“It’s empty,” Amanda said.

“I can see that,” James snapped.

“I followed you,” Amanda said.

That stopped him in his tracks. James stared at her for a few moments, and then his eyes switched furtively to regard Hank, who just stared back.

“What do you mean?” James asked.

“Last night,” Amanda said. “I followed you. Out of the camp and up the road to the edges of the city. You spoke with armed men. Armed men traveling in a black Hummer.”

“Black Hummer?” Jessica said. “We’ve seen those.”

“And they’re never good news,” Amanda said. “And James knows something about that.”

“I don’t,” James said.

“James, give it up,” Hank said. “You accept you were there?”

James glanced at Amanda, and then he grimaced at missing his chance at a flat-out denial.

“It’s not what you think,” he said. “I’ve been gathering infor—”

“James!” Hank cried. “What do you think we’re even doing here?”

“There are no weapons,” James said. “Are there?”

Amanda just looked at him.

“Think of what I’ve done,” James said bitterly. “The information I got on Koble’s movements, even before we met Austin. Not to mention the kind of work I did on the missions, risking my neck, fighting—you can’t say—none of you can say I didn’t do my part!”

He was looking at the others now, past Hank and Amanda, to people who’d been at Skykomish when Amanda’s group had still been in Idaho, and before that.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jake said, “if you’re going to sell your friends out now.”

“I’m not!” James said.

“What did you tell them?” Hank asked.

No answer.

“Did you tell them about this place?” Hank asked. “What time?”

“Hank,” Amanda said, checking her watch. “We should get in position.”

“James,” Hank said.

Hank advanced on him.

“It was midday, right?” James said.

Hank didn’t stop coming, and now James looked worried.

“Hey, man,” he said, “can we—”

Hank took him and spun him around. James lashed out only once as Hank took both his hands and tied them with nylon rope. He looped the rope over a few times to make it impossible for James to get himself free. He was briefly frisked for weapons or any kind of blade or tool he might be able to use to get loose.

“Nothing personal,” Hank said. “Well, maybe a little personal.”

James flexed his fingers and just looked at the floor.

“We were neighbors, fought together,” Hank said. “And now this?”

“Do I have to be tied?” James asked.

“Yeah,” Hank said. “Because I don’t know what’s gonna go down if it turns out we’ve got some extra guests—and thanks for that in advance.”

“Look,” James said. “What good’s this gonna do, keeping me tied like an animal?”

He was trying to speak slowly now, definitively, like that might get him out of this tight spot. Amanda knew it wouldn’t.

“It’ll keep you from running off if everything goes wrong,” Hank said, “as things tend to do whenever Koble’s involved, and especially when we’ve got a rat in our midst.”

“I’m not a rat,” James said.

“No?” Hank bellowed. “Then what are you?”

James was quiet. Hank dragged a chair from the lobby into the armory and led James over to it. James sat down, shuffling uncomfortably with his bonds, but he was quiet.

“The roof, Hank,” Amanda said. “We should take up positions there and anywhere else. Now we’re here, seeing his reaction, we know he told them about this place.”

“Which means they’ll be on the way here now,” Hank said.

He cursed under his breath.

“There’s still time,” Amanda said.

“To fight,” Hank said, “or to get out?”

She looked past him to Jake’s worried face.

They stood silently, and then Amanda heard the distant drone of an engine in the distance. It was getting louder.

“That’s them,” Hank said. “Isn’t it?”

“I can’t imagine who else,” Amanda said.

She ran to the nearest window, which was covered on the outside with iron bars, and looked down the road. A large black vehicle, probably one of the Hummers, was barreling down the road toward them. There was no time to get out.

“The roof, now!” Amanda barked.

Hank grabbed two of the other rebels and led them toward the back.

“Access is this way!” Hank said. “Saw it during the sweep.”

“Remember,” Amanda called to him, “and this goes for all of you: We need to surprise them. They need to think they’re getting here first. In that respect, James’s treachery might actually serve a purpose.”

“You can’t just leave me here!” James cried. “You know you can’t!”

“We can,” Amanda said.

“You’re lucky we don’t gag you,” Hank cried. “But if you make so much as a sound before one of us says it’s okay, it won’t end well for you. Know that.”

Amanda nodded at Jake, who slammed the armory door shut and secured it from outside with a crossbar. Amanda couldn’t imagine what everyday purpose there was to having a crossbar on the armory door, but she reckoned it might have been for situations like this, if things ever came to it. Now, she supposed, in a roundabout way, they had.

“Do you think he’d be better in one of the cells?” Jake asked.

“I don’t know,” Amanda said. “This way he’s closer to the rest of us. We put him in one of the cells and Koble’s people get in, they could free him, or maybe just kill him.”

“And wouldn’t that be awful?” Jake mused.

“It could be,” Amanda said, “depending on what he told them first, and if he went to the grave with information vital for us. But I take your point.”

Jake shrugged.

“How long do we have?” she asked him.

He was at the window, looking out, sliding cartridges into his shotgun as he did. Amanda was busy loading a fresh magazine into her AR, quickly checking over the weapon. She set the safety and inspected the barrel, more out of habit than any real expectation there’d be a problem.

Some things made you feel better, she supposed.

She went to the door and locked it from inside. It had several lock mechanisms on it, but two of the three she could see had already been busted. One had even been burned out with what looked like some kind of chemical solution—maybe thermite.

Maybe there was something here.

Now there were just the rebels and Koble’s advancing forces. There would be no peaceful settlement now. Just more battles in the war.

“Thirty seconds,” Jake said.

“Thirty seconds!” Amanda called toward the roof access. “Better stay quiet from now on, you hear?”

“We hear!” Hank called down. “Going quiet now.”

“Better stay low, Jake,” Amanda said.

He nodded and hunched down. Amanda went to another window on the other side of the lobby and looked out. She saw the black Hummer—of course it was a Hummer—pull up, and many men get out. She counted eight from that vehicle, but then another vehicle arrived, and several more men climbed out. Among them was a face she recognized, but it took a moment to really believe what she was seeing.

“Voss,” she hissed.

Jake looked over at her frantically.

“What?” he whispered.

“Someone I thought was dead,” Amanda said quietly. “His name’s Voss, and he’s bad news. He’s the only one there not in uniform.”

Voss was wearing a light-colored suit with a thick-plated layer of body armor across his upper body. The body armor was about the only thing his outfit had in common with the black uniforms of the soldiers. Amanda remembered Voss had been similarly suited during the fight at Felts Airfield when they’d seen him die—when she thought they’d seen him die.

“Bit of a bad penny, huh?” Jake said.

“More like a cockroach,” she said.

“Okay,” Voss called. “I want this done by the book. That way we’ll get the best out of this little excursion, and you can have some good news for the boss lady, sound good?”

The men all said, “Yes, sir,” in unison.

Amanda looked at Jake and raised her eyebrows.

They heard pounding boots as Voss’s people spread around the station perimeter. The windows, at least all those Amanda had noticed, were barred and well protected from forcible entry. But Koble’s people had always been well supplied and no doubt had the firepower to come in through the walls, let alone the doors and windows, if they wanted to.

Voss stood, regarding the building and holding his large, silver pistol in front of him. Amanda wanted to keep watching, but she already had the creeping feeling that Voss had seen her and now was watching her in his peripheral vision. Like some kind of reptile predator that could remain stone-still or move so slowly it appeared stationary while it became poised, ready for the killer strike.

“Sir!” one of the men called.

“What is it, private?” Voss called.

“We’re all clear here,” the soldier said. “Way to the parking lot is good.”

“Well, go ahead,” Voss yelled.

“When do we go?” Jake whispered to Amanda. “Once they’re in range, they’re gonna be making the decision for us.”

“We go soon,” Amanda said. “But I don’t want to lose that one.”

She was looking at Voss. The man who’d once called himself Julian Voss and posed as an art critic on a mission to save valuable works of art from a museum in Spokane. It had been Voss who was directly responsible for the deaths of Sam and Elizabeth Novak. Voss who’d hunted them across states and now was here and in range.

If anyone needed a bullet in the head, it was him.

“Rebels, fire!” Amanda called.

She heard gunfire from above—Hank and the others opening up on the soldiers. She heard the shots distributed around the roof above them and knew the rebels were taking on Voss’s people on all sides of the station.

Amanda tried to smash out the glass between the iron bars of her window with the barrel of the AR, but it just bounced off. She took a risk and pulled the trigger, and the glass gave way. She’d aimed at Voss, even then, but the bullets hit the ground just to the left behind him. He dove toward the vehicle and was, for the moment, safe.

“What if he runs?” Jake called.

He’d smashed out his own window and now pumped shots at the soldiers trying to advance on the station. The element of surprise had been brutally effective, and any soldier still exposed on the ground outside the station was for now far more preoccupied with getting to cover and self-preservation than continuing an organized assault on the building.

“Take out as many as you can!” Amanda said. “I’ll worry about Voss.”

She took aim at the Hummer’s wheels, which were protected with shields that looked like reinforced mudflaps. She switched the AR to short-burst mode and did her best. She took out most of the tires at that angle, despite the shields, and saw both vehicles sag on their suspensions.

Voss was gone.

“Two down!” Hank called. “How’s it looking down there?”

“One down,” Jake yelled.

“Hank!” Amanda called. “It’s Voss! The guy from the airfield!”

“You’re a spirited one, Amanda!” crackled Voss’s voice through a megaphone. Amanda could see the speakers were attached to the nearest of the two Hummers, but Amanda didn’t think Voss was inside. Even though the windows were tinted, she hadn’t seen him climb up into either vehicle, although there were blind spots on the far sides of each one. He probably had a portable mouthpiece for it, just one of the electronic luxuries he’d been enjoying in the employ of Lydia Koble.

“And you’re persistent,” Amanda cried. “But persistent or not, this is where it ends for you, Voss.”

“Take cover, men,” Voss said. “And return fire!”

Most of the soldiers who weren’t already lying dead on the cold ground were already in cover and barely needed encouragement to return fire. Bullets slammed into the walls around the windows where Jake and Amanda were, then Amanda heard activity near the roof access.

“Hank, is that you?” she yelled.

“We’re taking heavy fire up here,” Hank called down.

He was still on the roof.

“Keep it low,” Amanda said, “and don’t take any stupid risks.”

Hank laughed.

“This is all a stupid risk,” he said. “Just living is a stupid risk these days, huh?”

“Stay sharp, Hank,” she said seriously. “And take out that jerk who’s not in uniform. Do you have a visual?”

“Any visual on the non-uniform?” Hank asked.

“Negative,” one yelled from above.

“Negative,” a woman said.

There was a loud crack then, and Hank cried out.

“Jessica’s gone!” Hank cried. “They shot her!”

Amanda looked out of a window again, a different one high up in the lobby. She saw the glint of steel underneath the nearest Hummer and knew it was Voss. He had something high power and high velocity, and he was ready to take another shot.

“Jake!”

She yelled it as a bullet came through the window, hitting the glass frame of a picture above one of the desks at the edge of the lobby. It’d missed Jake by inches, if even that much. Jake jumped down, the sheen of sweat visible on his forehead, and his hands shook as he slotted more cartridges into the shotgun.

“You good?” she asked.

“I’m alive,” he said.

“Get off the roof!” she called. “We’ll fight from down here.”

“Go get them!” Voss shrieked.

He didn’t even sound human then, but more like a monster or a wounded animal. Another bullet came through the window and caught one of the other rebels in the neck. The man grabbed his throat, trying to stanch the blood, but there was no way. It just spilled out from around his fingers, drenching his khaki shirt, and then he fell to his knees.

He was gone.

Now, Amanda thought. Kill him now.

She moved again, this time toward the roof access where she passed Hank and the other rebel up there coming down. Hank grabbed her shirt to try to stop her from going up.

“Leave Jessica,” Hank said. “We can come back for—”

“I’m not going for Jessica,” Amanda said. “I’m gonna kill Voss.”

“You’ll be a sitting duck up there!”

“They think we’re down here,” she said.

Hank nodded.

“Stay low,” he said. “Stay very low.”

Amanda climbed the ladder to the access hatch, and she stayed low. She moved commando style on her elbows and knees toward the edge of the roof, and she could see Voss’s men spread out in the area around the station. They’d taken cover behind various cars and dumpsters and trashcans around the place, and it was hard to hit any of them until they exposed themselves to shoot.

Voss was no less protected, but Voss was a high-priority target.

Amanda was at the edge now, looking down at the Hummers. From this vantage, the angle would be difficult, but Voss would not be expecting it, and he was focused on scanning the ground floor of the station for all possible targets hidden within. It wouldn’t be long before they got creative and tried to use munitions and storm the entrance.

Okay, she thought. Give me an opening.

30

At White House, Austin called an emergency meeting, and Savannah helped round everyone up into the gymnasium.

She’d slept poorly, too busy thinking about Malachi’s recovery and all the fighting that was no doubt still to come on their road to peace. From the look of the others from the displaced Skykomish community, they hadn’t slept too well either.

It was easy, she thought, to get wrapped up in her own emotions. Worrying about Malachi’s condition and rehabilitation from his gunshot wound was a fine example of that. But she knew her feelings didn’t end only with self-interest or worry about those close to her. The peril they faced was one they faced together.

“Everyone,” Austin said, his voice resounding in the gym. “We’re taking the fight to Koble, and that means we’re gonna need different teams for different purposes.”

“We can’t stay here,” one woman near him said. “Not if most of our fighters are gonna leave—and I’m not saying they shouldn’t.”

“No,” Austin said, “I agree with you, Sasha.”

The woman smiled, obviously not having expected Austin to remember her name.

“But that means we need an alternative site,” Austin continued. “Has anybody got any fresh ideas? Because it was hard enough coming to a decision on this place.”

Davis put his hand up.

“I was a guest at a nearby reformatory,” he said plainly.

There were some whisperings at that, but Davis ignored everyone else.

“A guest?” Austin asked, smiling a little.

“It’s a good facility,” Davis said. “A modern building, but it’s across several floors and more concentrated than this. Certainly easier to defend with a small number of men—I mean people.”

Savannah cracked a small smile—the man really was trying.

“That could work,” Sasha said. “I know the place—that is if you’re talking about Underwood Reformatory.”

“Underwood,” Davis mused. “Yeah, that was it. I was in quite a state when I checked in though!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Austin said dryly. “So who’s going there?”

Savannah raised her hand.

“I’ll lead them if it comes to that,” Savannah said. “Whoever’s remaining after the teams have left to deal with Koble’s people, they can come to the reformatory with me.”

There were nods and words of agreement.

Ever since they’d first embedded themselves into life at Skykomish, Savannah had worked to maintain as positive a relationship with the existing community as she could. After what they’d been through together, they trusted her. That was worth more than the usual assurances or promises from a leader. Austin had seen the way people spoke to her, looked at her. It was with respect—and what was more, they knew they could expect it right back.

“Well, then,” he said cautiously, “I’ll leave that to you.”

She smiled and hugged him close.

After the meeting was adjourned, Austin caught up with Savannah outside. The truck to take Austin and his team toward the Columbia Center was almost ready to depart, and most of the rest of that group had already boarded and wanted to get on the road.

“Savannah,” he said softly.

“Don’t make it final again, Dad,” Savannah said. “It’s never final.”

“One day it will be,” he said.

She choked a little at that, felt the tears wanting to come, but she wouldn’t let them.

“Not this time,” she said. “We’ve got a plan, right?”

“Plans,” Austin said, “are like rules.”

“Made to be broken?”

“Something like that,” he said. “You look after them. Look after Malachi. He’ll want to fight, but he can’t. He’s not ready, even though he’ll hate to hear that.”

“I know,” Savannah said. “I can handle Malachi.”

“I think you can probably handle him better than anyone else alive,” Austin said. “Just don’t forget what you mean to me. What all of you mean to me. If I’d have lost you, I—”

“Dad,” she said, “I can’t. Let’s not do this.”

Austin stopped speaking and hugged her close to him.

“I guess this’ll have to do then,” he said.

He mounted the truck and called to the driver, and Savannah watched them leave down the road toward the city.

Savannah began organizing everyone who hadn’t been assigned either to Austin’s or Amanda’s teams into their role for this new, second exodus for the remaining Skykomish residents. The somewhat trained medical staff were tasked with creating stretchers to carry anyone too sick or old to walk.

“It’s easy enough,” one resident, Jilly, said. “Let me show you all.”

Jilly had been a trainee nurse in Seattle before the EMP, and since Sarah’s murder at the hands of someone whose name still eluded certainty, she had joined Maureen and Joan as a medical authority in the group. Now a group of about ten of them stood and watched her holding a length of tarp.

“We’ve got more of this,” Jilly said. “But you’ll have to cut your own lengths, so please watch closely. You’ll have it between eight and nine feet long. Seven will be too short as you see, unless we’re making child-size ones.”

Savannah saw the woman pause after saying that, and there was a tense moment while the rest of them thought about it. Jilly walked over to a small wooden table she’d set up earlier. There was a stack of tarpaulins on top of it, and a bundle of long metal poles that were not uniform. She spread out her tarp across the table and laid two poles on it each about a third in from each end.

“Fold this short side over,” she said.

She took the right side of the tarp, lifted it over the right-hand pole and then fed it under the left-side pole. A teenage boy was looking between the demonstration and Savannah, anxious to get started.

“One more step,” Jilly said.

From there, she simply lifted the loose left side of the tarp over the whole thing, creating a stretcher with two supporting rods and three layers of tarp secured in the middle.

“Do we need to tie it?” the teenager asked.

“No, Danny, you don’t need to tie it,” Jilly said kindly. “The weight of the occupant is gonna hold everything in place. And while we’re transporting them just folding them up securely together will do. We could even use duct tape if you think—”

She looked at Savannah, and Savannah just smiled and nodded.

“Looks like everything’s in hand here,” she said.

As she walked away, the rest of the audience were already at the table and working in different places on the overgrown grass in front of the school. Maureen and Joan were there too, helping different groups work quickly and efficiently. Something about seeing them all at work, and their steadily growing stock of stretchers, made Savannah feel a little sick.

Surely we won’t need all these, she thought.

Like so much, she told herself, it was just in case.

She went back to Austin and Amanda’s room to check on Malachi—although it didn’t really feel like that anymore, with both of them gone and Malachi recovering there.

“How’s it going?” Malachi asked. “Did Austin leave?”

“He’s gone,” she said.

“Good,” he said, “we can finish this off. Where do you want me?”

He went to get out of bed, but she quickly walked over and sat on the edge of the blanket.

“Savannah,” he said, “it’s hard to get out of bed while you’re sitting on the—”

“You’re not getting out of bed,” Savannah said. “You need to stay still and rest. You can’t be lazy about this.”

“Being lazy is exactly what I’m not trying to do,” he said.

“You know what I mean,” Savannah said. “They’re out there building stretchers in case we need them, not because we’re gonna be stupid and ask for trouble.”

He had no response for that.

“Please,” she said. “When you’re better, you could save all of us, but we’re not there yet. Don’t put me in that position.”

“You’re right,” he said.

“I’ve got an idea,” Savannah said.

She went over to the desk at the front of the room and found some of Sarah’s tincture the woman had given her just before Jones had come to camp. Before everything had been turned upside down all over again.

“Drink this,” she said.

“Was this one of Sarah’s creations?” Malachi asked. “No disrespect to the dead, but I don’t think so.”

“It won’t do you any harm,” Savannah said.

He drank it and grimaced.

“Try to sleep more,” she said. “It’s not gonna be long before we’re ready to go, and then we need to move quickly.”

“The reformatory,” Malachi said. “Austin filled me in already.”

Savannah nodded.

“Sleep,” she said. “We’ll be ready to go when I wake you.”

He turned over, and she heard him snoring almost before she was in the corridor. She smiled and walked back toward the preparations.

“We’ve packed everything up,” an older man told her.

“That’s great. Andrew, right?”

“That’s right, miss,” he said. “We’re about ready to go.”

He turned around, and everyone else seemed to be looking at her. Savannah saw all the supplies and equipment spread between different backpacks and suitcases and a small platform truck one of the Skykomish was operating. It was loaded with some of the heavier cooking gear, and some weapons.

“It’s time then,” Savannah said. “We’re doing the right thing. You’re doing the right thing.”

“We’ll be safer there,” Andrew said.

They took their ragtag group of about twenty to the street and began following Davis to the reformatory. Malachi wasn’t able to walk but didn’t need to go in one of Jilly’s stretchers just yet. Andrew surprised Savannah with a wheelchair he’d remembered in the school’s medical room.

“I thought heck,” he said, clicking his fingers, “I’ve just the thing for that boy. He’s a crack shot, but that’s worth nothing if you can’t lift your shooting arm, am I right?”

“I wish you could tell him that,” Savannah said dryly.

“Well, I can, of course,” Andrew said, grinning.

Andrew did, and pushed Malachi most of the way so that Malachi couldn’t even dream of complaining or arguing about not being assigned to Austin’s or Amanda’s team, not fighting, and even sitting in the darned chair.

“Left up here,” she called, pointing the way.

They came around the corner onto another street.

At the end of that street, Davis finally came to a stop. They had arrived at a large, dilapidated building completely overgrown on the outside with ivy. The area in front and around its sides was overgrown too, and the gates at the front were wedged open by a rusted prison bus.

“This it?” Andrew said.

“Obviously,” Malachi said a little too tightly. “Yes, Andrew, I’m sure it is, I’m sorry.”

Andrew winked at Savannah.

“How we gonna do this?” one woman asked.

“I’m going first,” Savannah said.

“No,” Davis said. “There are some blind spots. I think I should lead the way. You go right behind me.”

Savannah agreed.

Davis went ahead and she after him. She was pleased that Malachi didn’t ask her to hang back. From the outside, it looked like nobody had been there for months. She felt vindicated.

Once Davis and Savannah had done an initial sweep with an initial all moving in tight formation behind them, Savannah delegated their forces to difference watch positions. She assigned some of those with military experience—which wasn’t many—to the watch towers at either side of the complex. The children and the sick, including Malachi, were directed to the medical bay inside the reformatory. Malachi went with them and soon began striking up conversations with his fellow convalescents, which Savannah enjoyed seeing.

“What do we do?” one woman asked. “In case of attack, I mean?”

Savannah turned and saw her ankle was tightly bandaged.

“Sprained my ankle,” she said. “So I can’t run. Just about made it here on crutches.”

She laughed weakly, and Savannah knew what she meant.

“We’re not gonna run,” Savannah said. “And we’re definitely not gonna run if it means leaving anybody behind.”

“That’s true, Dana,” Malachi said. “Nobody’s leaving anybody. That’s not what we are, and that’s not what we do.”

“That’s gotta be the most honorable thing anybody ever said in this place,” Davis said. “And it might just end up getting us killed.”

“It means you too, Davis,” Malachi said. “Nobody’s leaving you behind. That’s how we stick together.” Davis gave a curt nod, while the woman regarded Malachi almost unbelievingly for a moment. She looked down at her ankle and shrugged miserably.

“We won’t run,” Savannah said, “but then I don’t think we’ll need to. My dad will come back. Amanda and the others will be back. Koble will be gone, and we’ll take it from there.”

With that, she left them, thinking as she returned to the others making defenses up around the reformatory. Thinking, and desperately hoping, that all that would indeed come true.

31

Austin’s team was the bulk of the community.

Thirty-two experienced fighters, including himself. Savannah was preparing defenses at their temporary base in the reformatory alongside the remaining fighters—fewer than ten—and the other residents. Now Austin’s group gathered in a wide alleyway not far from the Columbia Center. Even though Austin had only been to Seattle once before the EMP, he remembered the building.

It was huge, and one of the grander buildings, not just in Seattle or Washington, but in the Pacific Northwest region generally. It was a fitting hideaway for a villain of Koble’s stature, and it would no doubt be heavily fortified.

“NEXUS will be underground,” he told the team. “I’m sure of it, and my conversations with Hank and with James—”

“—tell me that Koble’s probably decided to keep the system underground wherever she’s running it. It’s the best way to keep people like us out.”

“Great,” one of the younger fighters said.

“But don’t worry,” Austin said. “There’s gonna be defenses, but they can be bypassed.”

“Or blown up,” Shawn said.

“Or that,” Austin said.

Shawn had become quite involved with the plans to overthrow Koble, which Austin took as a good sign that the community might be, at large, more ready to truly work together and end Koble’s chokehold on the region.

“But,” Austin said, “we’ve gotta assume we’re badly outnumbered, and if a real fight breaks out, one we can’t run from, I don’t like our odds.”

“We can’t just smash and grab?” the younger fighter asked.

“Grab what?” Austin asked.

The fighter was quiet.

“We need time,” Austin said, “because we need to make sure the system can’t be recovered. This is no smash-and-grab, no harrying mission, people. This is it.”

Some nodded respectfully, and some were still peering around the edge of the alleyway to see the towering Columbia Center about a dozen blocks over.

“We’ll take two groups,” Austin continued, “and they’ll take out the guards on each level until we reach Koble. Now if NEXUS is low, she might be low too, or she could be high up. They might even have power to the elevators, I don’t know. But we’ve got to be fast, methodical, and brutal in getting to her.”

“She could run?”

“Of course,” Austin said, “and she might. I don’t know if her pride is so strong she’ll want to stand her ground, or so strong she won’t mind tucking her tail—for all I know about the woman, she’s pressured now. I can’t predict.”

That made the crowd a little uneasy.

“This is our last chance,” he said. “I won’t lie. I’m scared. This is the opportunity we have to stop living under Koble’s control. If she gets this grid up and running, she could get the juice on and broadcast propaganda on TV. If you don’t like the message, you get your power cut. And the first thing she’ll do?”

“She’ll start recruiting,” a woman called from the back.

“That’s right,” Austin said. “And that’s a fight we won’t win. So many people over such a space, who knows what kind of stories are circulating right now—and look at us. A rabble with automatic rifles and some IEDs. They’ll make us look like the bad guys.”

“Only if we give her the chance,” the young fighter said.

Austin pointed to him but said nothing.

“Remember Tacoma,” he said after a moment. “And let’s not have a repeat of it.”

Together, the rebels headed for their target.

The two assault teams had already been chosen, but they would split closer to the tower. Thanks to information from Malachi’s ill-fated scouting trip, they already knew about the guards’ patrol habits.

“See him?” Austin whispered, hunkered beneath a burned-out car. “Follow him with your eyes.”

The younger fighter, Jimmy, watched out from under the same car. The guard Austin had pointed at was walking around the base of the Columbia Center, looking out at the nearby roads but obviously not bothering to look much farther.

Austin whistled quietly and pointed up.

“See them?” he asked.

Jimmy looked up and saw the sentries high in the tower windows, and even from this distance, Austin could make out the bulky shapes of sniper rifles across their bodies or in some cases resting on tripods on the window ledges.

“We’ve gotta worry more about them right now,” Austin said. “But at least Malachi was right about the patrol routes. Obviously, they didn’t think they’d need to bother changing them.”

“Still underestimating us,” Jimmy said.

“That’s right, Jimmy.”

Austin signaled at the others to go forward, and they did.

Mostly, they kept to the sides of the streets, staying low and moving up behind each of the abandoned cars. Some of one team moved through alleyways on the east side of the building, ready to meet up with the main group just outside the building.

Once they were close enough, Austin watched the building.

No unusual movement, no suspicion.

The sun peeked out from behind gray clouds, and suddenly the Columbia Center seemed to shine. A fine target, Austin thought. He motioned to the second team to hold ground, waiting to advance after Austin had led the first team in the initial wave.

He raised his hand and then brought it down sharp for the rebels to open fire.

They began shooting at the ground guards while three trained snipers worked on the window sentries. Austin didn’t see them miss, and soon the way was clear for entry. The alleyway team flanked around the side of the building, and Austin saw them arrive, guns drawn.

“Three neutralized on the east side,” the flank team commander said. “We good?”

“We’re good,” Austin said, “let’s go.”

They moved into the ground floor through the front doors, which were unlocked.

“I guess they’re not expecting uninvited guests,” Austin said, “or at least not for us to get this far. Fire doors now. Let’s find the stairs.”

He led the way, the last of them turning around to cover the rear. Before all of them were at the fire doors, there came the clatter of automatic fire from the back of the group.

“We’re covering!” someone yelled. “We’ve got more soldiers on the rear.”

“Keep pushing forward,” another cried, “and get us out of here.”

Austin did, through the fire doors and up the stairs.

He shot two guards on the stairs, grabbing young Jimmy and pushing him out of the way to let the latter guard slump down to the steps and then slide down to the next landing.

“Thanks,” Jimmy said.

“Stay behind me,” Austin said. “Gun up, but don’t shoot me.”

Shots still rang out from behind, and when Austin made it to the next floor, he found another set of fire doors with thin windows set in them. Through the glass, he could see corridors branching in different directions, but the doors were locked. Koble’s people were scrambling to action, obviously having had some alarm or word from downstairs, or maybe they’d found the dead sniper sentries.

“Personnel inside,” Austin said, “running now, but now we’re at a stalemate.”

“A stalemate?” Shawn asked.

“The door,” Austin said, “we need a way through. She’ll have reinforcements.”

He knew it, and it wouldn’t be long before they arrived.

They had to break through.

32

Amanda clutched her rifle, trying to stay low at the edge of the roof.

If anyone saw her, they’d cry out, and she wouldn’t be able to stop them. If Hank or anyone else came up to provide support, they could cost her any advantage she might gain, never mind putting themselves at great personal risk.

Voss was a crack shot.

He’d barely missed Jake and had only stopped killing temporarily on account of everyone now trying to keep under cover, and that meant the rest of his men were able to advance without fear of getting hit themselves.

“Gotta try,” she hissed.

She moved forward again, looking out at Voss’s position beneath the Hummer, and then pulled back. The roof tile in front of her exploded with the impact of Voss’s bullet. There was a high, pinging noise and a strange, hanging whine, and for a moment Amanda thought she’d been hit.

“Always taking the high ground, Amanda!” Voss called. “Always so proud!”

She cursed and moved back toward the hatch, but she noticed an electrical box jutting from the ground on the back side of the building. Quickly and keeping low, she strapped the rifle to her back and carefully eased herself down the side of the building. She landed on it and jumped down to the grass.

“She’s—”

The soldier’s words were cut off as she shot him, dead in the center of his forehead.

She decided to flank Voss’s people as best she could, running wide in front of them, trusting that it’d be enough of a surprise. She fired sideways as she ran, fully automatic, trying her best to keep balance until her magazine was empty, and she took cover behind a smashed-out police car. She loaded another magazine in while Voss cried out, his voice a grotesque mixture of fury and delight.

“Kill her, you morons!”

He’d moved from behind one Hummer to beside the other and had its driver’s side door open to protect him from the bullets. If it’d been a simple factory model, any assault rifle fire would likely have gone straight through, but the Hummers were all reinforced with some kind of carbon fiber composite.

Some things, though, Voss couldn’t anticipate.

“Hank!” she called.

She didn’t need to say anything more.

From inside the station, the rebels began firing again.

A couple of them came out, and then Hank was with them. They took cover behind another vehicle and started blind firing from cover.

Between those three and the rest of the rebels still inside, most of their shots were hitting the Hummers because by now they all knew to kill Voss. He was a predator, and if he had his way, they’d all be dead. Amanda doubted it even mattered to him that his own men came home. Just so long as he made it out, to live and lie, and kill for another day.

“Not this time,” she whispered.

She looked at the police station and saw Jake in one window. He fired off two rounds with the action, then yanked at the pump action loader and fired again.

“Cover me!” Amanda called.

Automatic fire came from the other windows, and Amanda took her chance. She ran full pelt at Voss, seeing looks of confusion and then fear on the faces of the men who noticed her. Men who now were lifting their guns to mark her.

She didn’t care.

Right then, she only cared about the roughly inch squared space on Voss’s forehead. The place where the bullet would go.

Voss appeared, firing at Hank in the window then quickly reloading, working the bolt-action with terrifying speed. Amanda saw in slow motion, lifting her weapon with one hand, stabilizing it with the other.

She took aim.

Bullets flew from the station, and two of the men marking her went down. She saw Voss in her sight, breathed out, and pulled the trigger.

A cloud of red mist sprung from the man’s face, and he was thrown back.

Amanda grinned, laughed, and then cried out as a soldier came out of nowhere, somewhere from the left. He swung at her with his fist, and she ducked it. He almost fell forward with the force in the missed swing, but caught himself. When he spun around, she saw a knife held upside down—assassin-style—in his left hand.

He raised it up, but she was faster.

Still on full-automatic, she pulled hard on the trigger, and the gun flew up. Not before landing half a magazine into the man’s abdomen. He danced briefly on the spot, then fell down. Behind him, Amanda saw once again Voss’s slumped body.

He’s still there, she thought. He’s still dead.

The other soldiers were running away. One of them had climbed into the nearest Hummer and was trying to start it, but Hank had run around to the side.

“Get out!” he barked.

The man did, then threw his weapon on the ground without needing any encouragement. He probably didn’t think he’d get it.

Only three of the soldiers stuck around long enough to surrender. Many were dead, and many more had cut loose and run the moment Voss had gone down. In their hearts, Amanda expected they had no real interest in the fight, at least not a lot of them. They were probably living in fear of what Voss would report, or what Voss would do if they showed weakness or defiance.

They didn’t expect Voss could die, but now he had—and next, their entire structure would fall.

If Voss could die, Koble could die.

Koble would.

“You did it,” Jake said. “You actually killed him. Jeez, where’d that guy learn how to shoot, huh?”

“He’s dead,” Amanda said. “Although, can we get a verification on that?”

She looked around and saw Hank already poking at Voss with the toe of his boot. He noticed Amanda watching and grinned at her. She ran over and looked at Voss on the ground. He’d been quite the actor in life, but there was no acting this. His eyes had gone shiny, like they did when someone expired. There was no breath in him, and when she felt the skin on his face—at least the skin on his face that was still there—he was going cold.

“We need to secure the prisoners,” Amanda said. “They might be able to tell us things.”

“Isn’t it a bit late for all that?” Hank asked. “Austin’s already at the Columbia Center.”

“It’s never too late for an advantage,” Amanda said.

She was happy to see Voss’s corpse, even though as a rule she never wanted to see anyone dead. He was different, and Koble would be different too. Zander Craven had been the same. Like a mad dog, only a mad dog doesn’t know it’s bad—it just sees the bad in an often hostile world.

Those people—monsters—had seen in the world a great potential for wickedness.

They had worked at it.

“They’re handcuffed already,” Hank said. “The prisoners, I mean. We’ll take them back with us. We’ll take back Jessica, and Marc too.”

“We lost him?”

Amanda knew Marc, a quiet and unassuming engineer who’d only recently become involved in the more militaristic side of protecting the community.

Hank nodded.

It marred the victory, but so did the pit in her stomach.

She knew why it was there. Because even after their success, after killing Voss and cutting another head off Koble’s hydra-like killing machine, she only wanted Austin to have the same success. And the worst part was that for now, she had no way of knowing.

They checked the Hummers for comms that might still be working, but there was an input code none of them knew. Hank even threatened to shoot one of the guards if he didn’t spill the code, but the man swore he didn’t know. He even wet himself, but he still wouldn’t say anything apart from protest that he didn’t know.

Only Voss had known.

They checked the other Hummer, the one that had arrived first and which Voss hadn’t ridden in, but in that vehicle there was no such radio.

“We’ll head back,” Amanda said simply, then called out, “Collect the dead, but be fast. We need to get back and see what’s going on.”

“What about James?” Hank said.

“We take him back,” she said. “Keep him bound. When the time’s right, we’ll get whatever information we can out of him.”

Hank snorted.

“We can’t kill him, Hank,” Amanda said. “It wouldn’t make sense.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Hank said.

Hank accompanied a meek and shuffling James back to the vehicle, and they loaded the dead into the back. Soon they were back on the highway.

33

Austin and the others were caught at the deadlock on the stairs, and then word came from the back of the rebels that Koble had reinforcements in sight.

One of the soldiers close to him began kicking at the door before them, but lights above them flickered and turned on. Everyone was shocked and looked up and around, waiting for the next thing to happen, and then it did.

One of the elevators pinged and showed the downward arrow icon above the doors that told them the elevator was descending.

“Move,” Austin said. “Be ready. Tell them to keep shooting at the back and to switch places or move back magazines if we need to keep them fully loaded.”

“What are we doing, sir?” Jimmy asked. “Taking the elevator?”

“No,” Austin said. He didn’t say that was about the worst idea he could think of.

There was a cry from beneath them. Austin looked over the stairs at where some of the rebels were gathered in the lobby. Another set of doors, previously locked, had been opened, maybe with whatever electronics had activated the elevators.

“Fire!” Austin called.

He watched as a new wave of Koble’s guards surged into the lobby, and the rebels dove for cover. Koble’s people had the upper hand, and now Austin’s team was boxed in. If they lost their advantage for too long, everyone could be dead, and there was only so much the other team could do from outside.

Austin frantically tried to figure out what to do.

He looked up and saw the glass and chrome light fixtures hanging from the center of the lobby ceiling. He didn’t hesitate and aimed with his rifle. He fired a short burst at the installation wires. One of them came loose, and then another rebel soldier halfway down the stairs noticed Austin’s intent.

The man tapped a nearby buddy on the shoulder and pointed up, and then they were firing too. Another wire snapped, and then another.

“Watch out!” someone called, Austin didn’t even know who.

Another wire snapped, then several more did, and the thing came swinging. Those wires gave a strange, almost electric whine as they whipped back on their relieved tension, sounding to Austin like the strange pulse that came down the tracks before an approaching locomotive.

The fixtures smashed into the ground, and then it was chaos on the lobby floor. The rebels jumped out, taking advantage of the momentary lull, and the pressure was on Koble’s people again. Austin ran to edge of the upper floor banister and began firing down at the guards. They looked up, but by then they were taking bullets and couldn’t warn the others behind them.

Austin emptied a magazine and quickly replaced it. Jimmy was beside him doing a fine job of firing, reloading, firing, reloading.

“Keep it up,” Austin said. “Remember, target priorities. Anyone who’s got a view on our people.”

Jimmy didn’t look up.

Reloaded, and fired.

They retracted back into the doors they’d only just come from, and then Austin was watching the elevator doors. The icon showed it had passed the second floor they were on and now was heading underground.

“Down,” Austin said. “Who’s got the IEDs?”

“I do,” Sasha said, “what are we doing?”

“Elevator doors,” Austin said, “now.”

“Even if we get inside, we’ll likely disable the—”

“Do it,” Austin said quickly. “And if they’re disabled, it’ll help us. There’s no way any of us is taking a ride in there while Koble’s got control of the power.”

That was all it took.

Sasha went forward and applied the IEDs to each side of the elevator’s sliding doors. They moved back a safe distance, and then Sasha hit the detonator. The doors were knocked loose in their steel frame. Austin and Sasha went forward again and took prybars to wrench the doors open. They both groaned with the effort, and then the doors were open.

Austin peered into the shaft, which was still smoky. It was dizzying to look up, but looking down he saw that sure enough a car was partly destroyed. It was probably two floors beneath them, or just between floors, and hanging precariously on two remaining wires. Those were badly mangled.

“Will it fall?” Jimmy asked.

“Who cares?” Austin said. “As long as Koble can’t ride up top and get a chopper out of this place.”

“She could do that?” Jimmy asked.

“She really is the boss,” Austin said, “of this place, anyway. If we don’t finish this right, she’d rather be all our bosses. Excuse me.”

Jimmy looked nervous as Austin moved past him to peer down into the lobby.

“You!” Austin cried.

“Me?” one of the rebels called up.

“No,” Austin said, “that soldier. Make sure he doesn’t pass out.”

Austin moved down to where the rebel was and then bent to look at one of Koble’s soldiers hunched over on the floor beside him. The man had been hit in the leg and was losing consciousness.

“Bind his leg,” Austin said, “quickly, and get him water.”

Someone started work on the man’s leg while the others reloaded, watching out the front doors for more reinforcements, watching all the spidering corridors through the newly opened double doors for the next surprise. Someone else arrived with a bottle of water, and Austin took it.

He squeezed it and sprayed half the bottle over the man’s face, and he was jolted into looking up.

“You’re gonna pass out,” Austin said bluntly, “so I’ll make it fast. If you don’t tell me what I need to know, you don’t wake up. Get it?”

The man nodded frantically.

“Where’s Koble?”

The man tried to speak but stumbled over his words. After a moment of shaking and stuttering, he managed to speak cogently.

“Down,” he said. “She’s on the lower levels. I don’t know which one. It’s BG-1, 2, 3, 4, that’s what they call it—below ground, I guess it means—”

“Got it,” Austin said. “Clean him up and give him a good dressing.”

“You’re not gonna—”

“Kill you?” Austin said. “We’re not your boss, kid. We’re trying to stop the darn war.”

The man looked down, almost embarrassed, which was half crazy given the circumstances. Then again, the times after the war—if they ever came—would be full of sober reflections. That time had not yet come.

“I’m going down there,” Austin said.

“I’ll come too,” Jimmy said.

“No,” Austin said. “I’m sorry, Jimmy, but I want you up here. And Sasha?”

She turned and saw him.

“I need some explosives,” he said. “You got more bombs?”

She nodded and gave him some carefully from her backpack, briefly showing him the priming and detonation methods. He packed them into his own bag, and then tasked Sasha, Jimmy, and fifteen others with watching the lobby, giving them clear instructions to either bail out or fortify themselves deeper in the building if reinforcements made continuing to defend the lobby impossible.

“What about you?” Jimmy asked.

“The others are coming with me,” Austin said. “And we’re going underground.”

He led the way through the fire doors, only downstairs now. All their weapons were drawn, faces grim, and the purpose before them clearer than ever.

“What’s she got down there?” one of them asked. “A secret lab? Maybe it’s a bunker.”

“I doubt it’s particularly glamorous,” Austin said.

He tried to reload his AR but remembered the magazine he’d just loaded was still full.

“Evil never really is,” he continued.

They were quiet then, save for their thudding boots on the tiled floor. They went quickly, down the steps and toward the object of the mission, of the war, unsure what awaited them.

34

Austin burst through another set of doors into a brightly lit corridor.

“Nothing,” he said. He was starting to feel nervous.

That was normal, he told himself. Only, this wasn’t just because they’d been getting fired at, and all these people were here under his command. Every fighter lost was something he couldn’t forget, could never take back. But that wasn’t the only consideration. Because every second they didn’t have Koble was time Koble could spend trying to get away.

It could be a tunnel, he thought. You knocked out the elevators, but that was never a guaranteed escape route, and she wouldn’t leave that to chance. She’d have a plan B.

He tried to push the thoughts away and listen to the shots and yelling coming down the corridors, though he knew the commotion could be some distance away. Everything would reverberate and echo off the walls and metal fixtures, and that was only part of the claustrophobia of being underground during a firefight.

“This one’s clear,” one of the rebels said, backing out of an office.

They’d cleared every room they’d come across, but Austin remembered what the guard upstairs had said. There were multiple underground levels, and something told him Koble would, by now anyway, be on the lowest one.

For a moment, Austin felt like Dante, and then he remembered that Dante had only really been an observer guided through Hell by Virgil. Austin was nothing if not a participant in this mess, however unwilling. It was time to end the nightmare for good, one way or another.

Ahead of them, four guards burst out into the main corridor they were following. The guards spotted them and took off straight down the corridor.

“Ed,” Austin said to the nearest fighter. “You’re with me.”

Austin sprinted after the running guards, Ed right behind him. They watched the guards turn on a right corner and raced to catch up. Just in time, they saw the guards take another corner, left. By the time Austin and Ed had caught up, the guards were trapped at a locked door.

One of them tried to work the electronic keypad beside the door, but then they were all reaching for their weapons.

Austin and Ed both opened fire, and the sound was deafening in the enclosed space. The guards fell, one of their rifles going off as it crashed to the floor, the dead man’s finger still on the trigger. Austin heard the bullet ricocheting but didn’t know where it went.

I’m not shot. “You good?” he asked Ed.

“I’m good, but how do we get through?”

Austin walked over to the guards, still training his rifle on them in case someone was playing dead. He ripped a keycard on an elastic cord from one of their belts and inserted it into the machine.

Nothing happened.

“Other way round,” Ed said. “Like those stupid hotel room keycards.”

“Man,” Austin said chuckling, “some inconveniences I’d almost forgotten.”

“Hey,” Ed said, “if we succeed, hopefully we’ll be back to those minor inconveniences instead of… well—”

“Getting shot at all the time?”

“Right,” Ed said, “or blown up, or—”

Austin flipped the card around and put it back into the reader, and this time the red display light on the module turned green, and there was an artificial click as the lock disengaged.

“Take right,” Austin said. “I’ll take left.”

Ed nodded and Austin pushed the door in. A shot came, narrowly missing them, before Austin was even through the door. But then the guard went down as Ed shot him in the head and flung him backward.

“Thanks,” Austin said. “What the—”

“Please!” one of the soldiers called.

But then Austin saw he wasn’t a soldier.

The others had all been in uniform, or a sort of a uniform. Always black, like the shady special military operatives in movies with no morals. Just an unfaltering desire to perform their duty, no matter what evil it entailed, because that wasn’t theirs to judge—theirs was just to pull the trigger.

The stuff of nightmares, Austin thought, but this man wasn’t dressed like that.

He was wearing gray slacks and a faded, checkered shirt. He was unarmed, without weapons even at his side. Austin could see he didn’t have anything hidden about his ankles because he was on his knees with his head covered, and the legs of his slacks were pulled up. It looked like his desk—he was working here—was right on the edge of a whole bay of desks, right where the main passage passed him by.

He’d been there when the guards had taken up position, and it was a miracle Austin and Ed hadn’t gunned him down too in that moment.

“I’m injured,” the man spluttered.

His voice was croaky.

Ed took a look at the man’s arm, which was bent at an odd angle. “You’ll be fine,” Ed said. “It’s just dislocated. We can get that fixed.”

“You’re fine,” Austin repeated. “And we’re not here to hurt you. We’ve got people who can help you and the others if you need it.”

“Lies!” the man hissed.

“It’s the truth,” Austin said. “But right now you need to tell me if there are any more guards in this room—soldiers, anybody with a weapon.”

“They’re gone,” a woman said. “It’s just the engineers now. That’s us. The soldiers you killed were supposed to cut you off, I think. They told us to keep working.”

“Working on what?” Austin said.

“The program’s almost online,” the male engineer said. “This is the control room, so this is where most of the actual manpower goes into trying to get the power back on. For better or for worse.”

Austin looked around the room. The engineers were all huddling under desks, apart from a small cluster by some doors on the other side of the room.

“Stay here!” Austin called. “Don’t leave. We don’t want to hurt anybody, but we need to stop your boss. If you’ve got questions, hold on to them, because we don’t have time now. Are we gonna have a problem?”

Nobody spoke.

“I mean it,” Austin said clearly, “when I say I don’t want to hurt anybody, but that doesn’t mean I won’t if I have to. This guy will have to be proof of that.”

He motioned with his rifle muzzle at the dead man on the floor.

“We don’t want this woman in charge,” the woman said. “But the truth is we don’t know the ultimate plan.”

“I’m not even sure Koble does,” Austin said. “Where is she?”

Nobody spoke again.

Austin fired into the ceiling, which was risky considering the AR had such a high muzzle velocity, and the ceiling was made of solid concrete. There was no telling how the rebound might behave, but that didn’t matter—he had to get closer to Koble.

“There,” a man said, coming out from under his desk. “It’s right there.”

He had his left arm raised in surrender, and his right pointed at another door on the opposite side of the room to the gathered engineers. They’d taken Austin’s warning about not leaving the room to heart and now came closer to the rest of their coworkers.

People were coming out from their hiding places now, and if they didn’t already trust Austin and Ed, they at least no longer perceived them as an unambiguous, mortal threat.

“That door?” Austin asked. “Her office, or another corridor?”

“It leads to it,” the man said. “Fifty feet, I think, but that’s it. That’s her office, and that’s where she’s been for the last twenty-four hours. She hasn’t come out.”

“Other exits?” Austin asked. “Any escape route?”

“She didn’t need one,” the man said. “Or I guess she thought she didn’t—not from Columbia, anyway.”

“Well,” Ed said, “I guess she was wrong.”

Austin looked at Ed. “You’re staying here,” he said. “Keep an eye on these, and if anyone gets out of line, you know what to do.”

That last bit was for show, and Ed gave him a quick and subtle wink to confirm that. Austin didn’t expect any of the engineers would pose a threat, particularly when it looked like Koble had finally run out of options.

Austin had expected Ed to argue, but he didn’t. He just loaded another magazine into the rifle—that was a nice touch—and turned to the engineers.

“Sir,” he said to the male engineer who they’d seen first, “how’s your arm?”

“I’ll manage,” the man said.

“And nobody else is hurt?” Ed called.

Austin headed for the door, and everything behind him faded away. He expected another electronic lock and another keycard insert socket, but he saw neither. There was a small control pad with only a green and red button.

He pressed the green one, and then the door slid open.

“Fifty feet,” he muttered.

He looked down the dark corridor and saw only a single door at the end. It wasn’t one of the sliding ones they’d encountered throughout the facility beneath the Columbia Center, but a more conventional wooden door.

He took a deep breath, then burst in with his gun drawn.

Lydia Koble sat behind a large wooden desk. Next to the desk and to his left was a tall mirror, and the room was filled with documents and old computers. There was another computer in front of her on the desk.

“Koble,” he said.

She froze. “In the flesh,” she said softly.

“Stay still,” he said. “And don’t talk for a moment.” He kept the rifle aimed at her head and quickly took stock of the room.

The computer in front of her didn’t look particularly sophisticated. Just like any regular computer you might find in an office, but then such an expansive facility could house an impressive amount of hardware. There was no telling what might be done by punching a couple of keys or the click of a mouse.

“Hands on the desk in front of you,” Austin said.

Koble complied and put her hands flat on the desk.

Behind her there was a large electronic map that showed the greater region beyond Seattle, Skykomish, and Monroe. There were small blinking dots that no doubt indicated different places of interest. Power centers mainly, he guessed.

“You didn’t run,” he said. “Why?”

“Run?” she said. “Mr. Merryman, why would I run from my destiny? You think I would not risk death for the greater good?”

“You don’t know the meaning of the words,” Austin said. “Stop that.”

With her hands on the desk, she’d slowly moved her left hand along its top, spreading her arms out.

“Stand up,” he said.

“No,” she said quickly, “why don’t you sit?”

“I’m good,” he said.

“Well, if I’m going to die, I’d rather not do it on my feet if I can be sitting comfortably. After all, isn’t that what this is all about? The luxury of living in a way that celebrates our technological triumphs?”

“For some,” Austin said. “For you and your lapdogs.”

“You mean Julian?”

Austin had to think about that for a moment, but then he remembered Voss at the LIMA in Spokane, and his art expert routine. The sucker hadn’t been lying about his name at all, but what guarantee was there he’d been straight with Koble in the first place?

“Voss,” Austin said tightly, “That snake.”

“He’s probably killing your friends as we speak,” Koble said openly. “Regrettable as that is. Is Amanda with you here? That was her name, no?”

“Shut up,” Austin said. “It wasn’t just Voss. There was Jones, and even Ezekiel. And now they’re gone.”

“Eze—oh!” She laughed coldly. “The preacher man?” she said “The boy’s uncle, was it? Voss told me about that, but he never had high hopes for him. I think, in honesty, that he saw it as more of a game up to a point.”

“It felt personal,” Austin said.

“Well, with you Austin, it frequently feels personal. You’ve been a thorn in a lot of sides. Most of all mine.”

“Sorry,” he said.

“Not accepted,” Koble said.

“Stand up,” he said.

“I’ll do no such thing,” Koble said, “because I believe once I do you will shoot me, and there’s no sense in that. I won’t stand for you, Austin. And I won’t die without telling you what a mistake you’re making here.”

Austin aimed down the rifle sight.

“NEXUS isn’t just mine,” Koble said. “It never could be. Heck, I don’t know anything about the most basic lines of code that keep the whole system from overturning. You think I’m alone in applying this, in making it the new reality of the national technological landscape?”

“You’re at the top,” he said, “and it’s a grim system, Lydia.”

“It’s a system,” she hissed.

“Tacoma,” Austin barked. “Did that fit into your system?”

She blinked, but there was no emotion in her eyes. “Regrettable,” she said, pausing a moment, “but I don’t actually regret it myself.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Austin said.

“I don’t think you’d have regretted it either though. Not if you were in my place.”

“If I was in your place, I’d put a bullet in my head because I wouldn’t be able to bear the guilt—”

“Guilt?” she said. “Like the guilt you get from killing a family man—heck, try three family men just to get in to see me?”

“There were a lot more than that,” Austin said. “But it looks like you’ve got a real security problem here.”

She smiled. “And you’ve got a power grid problem,” she said. “You’ve got a ballistic missile problem, and targets auto-acquiring across the country.”

Behind her, the map blinked and beeped as various red dots turned green.

“Usually, green’s good, red’s bad,” she said. “These greens indicate heavy payload missiles, some carrying biological and chemical agents to different cities prioritized for population and area of effect.”

He moved up to her, pushed the rifle out so the muzzle pressed into her temple, and she grimaced.

“Take it offline,” he said through gritted teeth. “Or that’s it. It won’t matter where they hit—not to you anyway, if it matters at all—because you’ll be dead, Lydia.”

“You’re very familiar for a stranger to me, Austin.”

“We’re not strangers, Lydia. I probably know you better than anyone.”

“And I’d say that’s much more a reflection on me than on you,” she said. “That is, if it’s true.”

“Take it offline.”

“Time is short,” Koble said.

She reached to the side, and then Koble was diving left. Austin saw the glint of gun metal as Koble pulled a weapon out from under the desk. He pulled the trigger.

He shot only once, and it hit Koble in the forehead. The shot wasn’t as loud as Austin expected, and he thought maybe his hearing was still muffled from the gunfire in the corridor, but he hadn’t noticed anything while Koble had been talking.

In truth, he couldn’t remember in that moment what was normal.

She’s dead, he thought. She’s finally dead, and it’s done.

He almost couldn’t believe it, and then he looked back at the electronic map. He approached it and saw the word NEXUS in the bottom left corner. Beneath it was a horizontal bar, like a loading bar on a video game or a computer program installation, and it was filling. It said 36% and then 37%, and he felt sick.

Across the map, more and more of the red dots were turning green as NEXUS continued to assert more control over the grid. Austin turned to the computer and looked for any kind of escape, delete, or cancel function, but could find nothing. He shut the computer down, but that didn’t stop the loading program, and then he saw wires all leading into another room just off the office.

“What?” he muttered.

He hadn’t noticed before, but the tall mirror was actually a door, and the wires fed through a small hole in the wall above head height and through to that room. There was a small, stainless steel handle at the top right edge of the door, and he went to it.

He kept the rifle up as he eased the door open, but there was nobody inside. Just a lot of computer terminals all whirring and buzzing, the very air busy with electrical signals. To the left he saw a fire axe behind glass, and he used the butt of the rifle to smash it.

He took the axe and started swinging.

He severed power cables and began smashing into the computer terminals, and then he remembered the IEDs in his backpack.

He placed them around all the computer terminals and set a trigger just like Sasha showed him. He set the timer, watched it count down for a few seconds, and ran from the room with eight seconds to spare. He went through the office and out into the corridor, praying the computer terminals wouldn’t disable and lock the sliding door mechanisms throughout the underground facility.

There was the sound of an explosion from the computer terminal room, and then smoke was billowing out into the corridor.

“What happened?” one of the engineers said as Austin came back to the control room. “Is she dead?”

“She’s dead,” Austin said. He ran toward Ed, who was sitting, still holding his rifle, on one of the empty desks. “Set fires and get everybody out,” Austin said.

Ed nodded.

They ushered the engineers out of the room, told them to keep their hands high and to leave the building as directly as possible. Ed set fires around the control room, and then both he and Austin followed the escaping engineers.

Outside, the sound of explosions and smashing glass, groaning steel and girders, or whatever it was, filled the air. The building was in flames, but nobody was coming out anymore.

“Anyone still inside?” Austin asked the leader of the other rebel team.

“Everybody’s out that we can tell,” the man said. “There were reinforcements but nothing we couldn’t handle. We ambushed them, and now I think they get it.”

“Get what?”

“We won,” the man said. “You won, Austin.”

“NEXUS is down,” Austin said. “Stopped, anyway. For now.”

“It doesn’t have to be permanent,” Jimmy said.

Austin looked at the boy, who somehow looked at least five years older than he did that morning. Austin smiled and patted the kid on the shoulder. “Very little’s permanent in this life, Jimmy,” he said. “Just be happy you’re still alive.”

“I’m happy we’re alive, sir,” Jimmy said.

Austin smiled.

Me too, kid, he thought. Me too.

35

Austin and his team reached the reformatory and filed past the prison bus blocking the part-open gates.

“It looks empty,” one of the men behind Austin said.

“They’ll be here,” Austin said.

“Dad?”

He looked right and saw Savannah coming out of a door at the end of the long front side of the building, and he ran to her.

“Savannah!”

She hugged him close, and relief washed over him. For a moment, he guarded against it, like he was too used to things never turning out right, never truly being okay, but then he let that go. Just for a moment, he let the cynicism fall away and simply enjoyed embracing his daughter.

There was laughter among the remaining rebels, despite the few men they’d lost at Columbia Center.

“Where’s Amanda?” Austin asked. “Is her team not back yet?”

Savannah looked past his shoulder.

Austin turned and saw Amanda smiling, walking toward them. He ran to her, hand in hand with Savannah.

“Amanda,” he said.

“I’m fine,” she said, “and we’re fine. We lost some people.”

“We all did,” Austin said grimly. “But you’re okay, and—”

“What about Koble?” Amanda asked quickly.

Savannah looked at him too.

“Dead,” Austin said.

“For real?” Savannah asked.

“Dead as anything,” Austin said. “Did it myself, and NEXUS is offline—at least for now.”

Amanda laughed.

“You did it,” she said. “And we know James was dirty, even if we don’t know exactly how dirty. We know he was feeding information to Koble’s people, and it was Voss that came for us.”

“Voss?”

“He was alive, Austin,” Amanda said. “But not anymore.”

“You?”

She nodded, and then he kissed her.

“His men are scattered,” Amanda said. “We took some prisoners, but I don’t think we need to keep them long. Not with Koble and Voss dead. To be honest, Austin, I don’t think they had a strong allegiance to Voss.”

“No,” Austin said. “He never seemed all that personable to me.”

Savannah chuckled.

“What about James?” Austin asked.

Amanda turned and nodded.

Austin saw James walking with his hands cuffed behind his back, flanked by two of the larger rebels on Amanda’s team.

“We’re gonna put him in one of the cells,” Amanda said. “Savannah, do you think we can manage that?”

“I’ll talk to Davis,” Savannah said. “I’m sure he can handle that.”

“And we trust him?” Austin said.

Savannah nodded and smiled, and Amanda agreed.

“Good,” Austin said.

“And that’s not all,” Amanda said. “We met some other civilians on the way back.”

“You stopped for them?” Austin asked.

“You should have seen them,” Amanda said. “They were exhausted, but some of them just couldn’t stop smiling. People all over the place are fighting against Koble’s forces now. They’re almost pushed all the way out of Seattle, never mind just the Columbia Center.”

Austin couldn’t believe it, but then he could, completely. There was no real chokehold on the people across the nation. Without Koble and without the leverage of NEXUS and the hierarchy of gangs and controlled resources, there was no guaranteed stability.

“There’ll be chaos,” Austin said.

“So we’ll have to find some order in all that,” Amanda said. “And we can.”

“Come inside,” Savannah said. “I think you both deserve a rest.”

“We need to talk,” Austin said.

“Rest,” Savannah said. “Have something to eat, sit down. Dad, you need to.”

He did, and he knew it.

They rested for a couple of hours, and by then it was early evening. The sun was going down in a sky that was a dark and pretty shade of orange. Even looking up through the barbed wire tops of the reformatory walls, Austin couldn’t help but appreciate its beauty.

He called a meeting in the canteen area of the reformatory. Everyone sat on the tables around the room—tables bolted into the floor that couldn’t be moved—because all the chairs had been moved out to somewhere unknown.

“We worked hard,” he told everyone. “And I don’t feel I can ask any of you for anything more—I don’t even know what that would be.”

“Thank you, Austin,” one of the rebels called, and then there were other echoes of the sentiment.

“Don’t,” he said. “Please. And I’ve got an announcement: I cannot carry on as leader.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence.

“I didn’t want it in the first place,” he said. “I never wanted to have to bear that mantle, but I did it because I couldn’t see another way. Now that Lydia Koble is dead, it’s time for us to begin to heal in any way we can.”

Nodding agreement in the crowd.

“For me,” Austin continued, “that healing can’t begin until I step down and lead a quieter life. I hope you understand.”

There was more silence, but then in the back, someone began to clap. Austin looked and saw it was Hank, then smiled. Others began clapping too, until the whole place was applauding him. He looked down for a moment, unsure of what to do, but he saw Savannah’s adoring face, Amanda’s pride.

“Instead,” he said, waiting for the applause to die down. “Instead, I think we need to form a committee. A team that decisions can go through, rather than just one person.”

“How do we decide who?” someone asked.

“Well,” Austin said, “I don’t suppose we could see if there are any volunteers?”

Savannah’s hand shot up, and then Malachi’s. Hank lifted his hand too, which Austin was privately pleased about, and a few other long-timers from back in the Skykomish community.

“That means the committee will decide what we do with our prisoners,” Austin said, “and as of this moment, I am stepping down. I will help the committee along in any way I can in the time I remain here, but I’m not staying, and moving on is my priority. I hope you can understand that.”

The crowd was quiet, watching him with sad faces.

“I am not your leader,” he said. “I’m no one’s leader.”

He said it without knowing if he really believed it. If it wasn’t true, he wanted it to be.

“I’ll stay and help,” Savannah said. “Malachi and I have already spoken about possible future plans. Malachi?”

“I’ll help to train a new security force,” Malachi said. “We can do shooting drills. Hank, maybe you could help with the training program?”

“Just try and stop me, kid,” Hank said.

Malachi smiled, somewhat reassured.

“We won’t stay forever,” Savannah said, easing a concern in Austin’s heart that he was trying to squash down. “But Malachi and I both feel like we can do a lot to help right now. Andy can go with you and Amanda, though. It would be good for him to get settled somewhere with more stability, the sooner the better, I think.”

Austin pulled his daughter into another hug. He was proud of the adult she had turned into. He couldn’t wait to see how she would continue to grow.

After the committee was established, at least provisionally, the meeting disbanded. Austin met up with Amanda in the courtyard of the reformatory, away from everyone else.

“Well,” Austin said, “now we’ve gotta decide where to go next.”

“And when,” Amanda said. “Savannah and Malachi have their work cut out for them.”

“It doesn’t feel right,” Austin said.

“Leaving them?”

He nodded.

“I know,” Amanda said. “But Koble’s gone. Voss is gone.”

“What if something happens?”

“Like what?”

“Anything,” Austin said. “How would we know?”

“So much has happened already, Austin. It’s been a journey for all of us, and they’ve grown so much. I think they need this.”

“They need to be apart from us?”

“No,” Amanda said, “and you know that’s not true. But I think they need to help the community find its feet again.”

“Like a debrief?”

She nodded. “The aim now is for life to get back to normal, and that’s going to be an adjustment.”

“They’ll be okay,” Austin said.

“They will be,” Amanda said. “And we will see them again soon.”

“And Hank will be able to keep things rolling,” Austin said. “He’s respected. And so are they.”

“So,” Amanda said, looking up at the sky, “what do you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where will we go next?”

Austin looked up at the sky too, watching the stars clear above them. He thought about the light pollution that would no doubt return once the grid was eventually back on. Whenever that would be, anyway. He thought about losing the stars all over again around any urban center, and how everything had a cost.

He and his family had been lucky, despite everything.

He thought of his lost brother, Ennis, and of Andy’s family. He thought of Malachi’s family, and all the others who’d been sacrificed along the way. He hadn’t wanted any of it, he’d just wanted—

This.

It was just peace, and he didn’t truly know if he had it yet.

“The farm,” he said simply.

“Golden—what was it?”

“Golden Harvest,” he said. “Golden Harvest Farm. That’s where we should go. At least while we figure out what to do next, you know?”

Amanda nodded. “I could live with that,” she said.

“Savannah and Malachi can join us after they’re done here,” Austin said. “And I think Andy’s gonna love the idea.”

“No kidding.”

“We’ll be able to relax there,” he said.

“And eat,” Amanda said. “Remember the food? That guy on the grill?”

“Don’t remind me,” Austin said, “at least not until we’re nearly there. I could eat a horse.”

“Well,” Amanda said dryly, “I think they might need their horses, Austin. If they even have any.”

“Maybe they already ate them.”

She laughed lightly, and he let himself laugh too.

That night there was a celebration. The rebels organized the impromptu party to make merry after their victory over Koble and to remember those lost. Not least, to remember Mason.

“Austin,” Hank said, sounding a little tipsy, “there are beers if you want one.”

“Beer?” Austin said. “Like in cans? Is that still good?”

Hank laughed. “It’s beer,” he said. “I guess we should have been learning how to brew our own. More importantly, I want you to spend some time with us tonight. Me and the boy, I mean.”

“It’d be a pleasure, Hank. And if Andy’s there, I’m there.”

He looked over to Hank’s boy, Ben, and saw Andy there too. They were sitting at a table, eating together, drinking what looked like a concentrated orange drink. After Austin and Amanda had joined them at the table—Savannah and Malachi were with some of the other younger rebels—people began asking for Austin to speak.

He set the flat beer he’d been drinking down on the table and walked in front of the crowd.

“I’m not your leader,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t say a few words at a party, and the best party I can even remember.”

The crowd cheered and laughed.

“It’s good that we can do this,” Austin said. “That we can still drink, eat, talk, and laugh together. And I don’t have to remind you that there are some others who can’t be with us tonight. Others who were taken too soon, or who gave their lives willingly to defend, to preserve what we have. What we still have.”

“Hear, hear!” Amanda called.

“But that’s not it,” Austin said. “I want you all to remember that ultimately, good triumphs. Evil will not last while there are good people. And there are good people. You all are living proof. For that, I thank you.”

The crowd clapped and cheered, and Austin made his way back to his table.

But before he’d even sat down, before he had another sip of his beer, he was thinking of James. Thinking of the man who’d betrayed them all, who he’d known in another life entirely, and how that’s probably how James had lived with himself.

Compartmentalization. Just removed himself from what he was doing. But that was no excuse.

He was a traitor, and he’d sold them out. He’d given Koble’s people information that could have led Voss to victory at the abandoned police station, and that could have meant the deaths of Hank, Amanda, and the rest of the team. It was luck and strategic competency that’d got them out of there alive, and little else.

He’s lucky to be breathing.

He sipped his beer again, and then Amanda caught his eye and smiled. He forced a smile back, but he wasn’t feeling it.

He stood and walked around to her, bending down to speak in her ear. “I want to see James in the morning,” he said. “Do you want to come?”

She shook her head. “I’ve had enough of that jerk for now,” she said. “But what are you gonna do?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Nothing?”

“I’m not gonna kill him, Amanda,” he said. “I don’t want to kill anyone else, and I don’t think he’s like Voss, and I don’t think he’s like Koble. He’s pathetic, and small.”

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous,” she said.

“He’s dangerous to himself now,” Austin said. “But I need to look in his eye. I need to know what he knew and see if there’s any more of a part he has to play.”

She nodded. “But sleep,” she said. “Please.”

He chuckled. “You too, miss.”

He caught Savannah and asked her where he could sleep, and she led him to the officer’s dormitories where she’d taken time to prepare him and Amanda somewhere to sleep.

Austin was asleep seconds after his head hit the pillow.

36

The next day, Austin went to see the prisoner.

One of the rebel guards opened the door to the first block of cells for him. The guard was Jackson, one of the men who’d been at the Columbia Center only the day before, but to his credit wasn’t showing any real sign of it.

“Thanks,” Austin said.

“What are we gonna do with him?” Jackson asked. “We gonna kill him?”

“I don’t think we’ll need to,” Austin said simply. “You okay to stay at your post while I’m inside?”

“Of course, sir.”

“You don’t need to call me that anymore, Jackson,” Austin said. “I’m not in charge anymore.”

“You’ll always kind of be in charge here, sir,” Jackson said, “whether you like it or not.”

Austin smiled a little sadly.

He walked down the bay of empty cells, all still with their doors locked, until he came to the one James was occupying. It was large, much larger than the jailhouse in Miami he’d visited in the late nineties for a documentary on corrections reform.

“James,” he said.

“Austin.”

James was sitting on his bunk mattress. There was no sheet on it, but it was covered with a couple of blankets. There were hardly any possessions in there, and Austin couldn’t think of how many possessions James might even have. He’d lived and traveled light while at Skykomish, or so it appeared, which was probably one guarding measure considering the tightrope he was walking by spying on them.

“I didn’t want this,” Austin said. “You know that? When I found out you were here, it was like a window into the old world. Into my old life.”

“Heck of a thing, huh?”

“It is,” Austin said. “And I don’t want you to miss out on understanding just how disappointed I am.”

“Great,” James said, “thanks, Dad.”

“Lose the tone,” Austin said. “It doesn’t suit a man in your position.”

“What, you gonna kill me?”

“The people probably wouldn’t oppose it,” Austin said.

James stared up at him through the bars.

“It wouldn’t be my choice, though,” Austin continued. “Enough blood’s been spilled already. Heck, enough blood’s already been spilled in your name alone, James.”

“It wasn’t the way I wanted things turning out either, Austin. But that’s just how it did.”

“Due to your choices, James.”

“Choices,” James mused. He stood and strolled around the cell, then came over toward the bars. Austin took a step back, more out of instinct than any real suspicion that James was trying to make any kind of move.

“What do you want to know, then?” he asked.

“When did you betray us?”

James scoffed.

“When, James?”

“I was working them,” he said. “I was giving them useless information in return for—”

“Useless information that got people killed, James,” Austin snapped. “You’re lying again. And I hesitate to even bring up Mason. And Sarah.”

James’s eyes became dark, just for a moment while he still looked at Austin, and then he looked away.

“And Jones,” James said.

“And Jones.”

“Self-preservation,” James said quietly. “You’d know a thing or two about that, I think. You’ve spent enough time traveling around the country, place to place, people to people, and you know that not everybody’s got that killer instinct. Heck, the ones who haven’t got any of it, well, they’re not around anymore.”

“Some are,” Austin said, “because being a killer doesn’t define your place in this world, and it never has.”

“Now who’s lying?”

“But I’m not lying,” Austin said. “I’ve killed people. I’ve killed more people than I ever care to think about, and some of those will haunt me, James. But all the people I’ve killed, all the things I’ve done and choices I’ve made, I know they were for good reasons.”

“And what are those?”

“For my family,” Austin said.

James laughed.

“For a better future for all of us,” Austin said. “And there was a time when that included you, James. It included everyone in this community, but then you ripped it apart. What about the people you’ve killed, James, will they haunt you?”

He looked away.

“Will Sarah haunt you?”

He glanced upward, and Austin saw a new look in his eyes, a kind of vulnerability.

“I’m just the little man,” James said. “I may have killed Jones, and I may have killed Sarah, but I didn’t want everyone to tip over for the sake of a couple of lives.”

“Both worth less than yours, then?”

“Jones was,” James said. “You’d have killed Jones yourself if you’d had the chance.”

“I had the chance,” Austin said. “He was in captivity, a prisoner, James. Just like you are now, I might add. Ever think about that?”

James snorted.

“And he may have had valuable information,” Austin said. “Information that might’ve kept some people alive who otherwise died. And it was that information, that potential problem for Koble’s plans that motivated you to kill him. What was your reward?”

James didn’t answer.

“This is pointless,” Austin said. “I’m not gonna learn anything from you, because you haven’t learned anything yourself. Anything you had on Koble is old news. She’s dead.”

“Dead?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear?” Austin asked. “She’s stone dead, James. Voss too, if you know who that is?”

James let out a small, involuntary gasp.

“That’s right,” Austin said. “It’s over, and we’ve gotta decide what to do with you. And if we take a vote, I can’t give you any assurance of what might happen.”

“It’s typical,” James muttered.

Austin came closer to the cell bars. “What’s that?”

“I said it’s typical,” James said sharply. “It’s always the little man that loses in the end. I tried to walk the straight and narrow, but it all had to be thrown out in favor of the community. You think I wanted to live with those people day in, day out, put my life on the line only for them to do everything they could to put us in the firing line of Koble’s people?”

“That’s mighty rich coming from you,” Austin said.

For that, James had no response.

They both stood facing but not looking at one another. Austin turned, ready to leave, but James spoke again.

“So,” he said, “you really don’t know? What’s gonna happen to me, I mean?”

Austin smiled. “I’m not in charge anymore,” he said. “I think I need a break for a little while.”

“The next cell over is free.”

“I’ll pass,” Austin said. “It’s down to Savannah and Malachi now,” he said. “Malachi’s running the new security force, and Savannah’s helping out with diplomacy. It seems the community’s happy for them and a few other select members to decide the direction things take for now.”

At this news, James actually looked unsettled. “Who else is on the committee?” James asked.

Austin just shook his head, already walking away.

“Austin?” James called.

Austin wouldn’t turn back. He’d ended that chapter and wanted to leave it all behind. There was enough to think about in a bright future. Outside, he met Amanda waiting by the door.

“All okay?” she asked. “He didn’t convince you of anything, did he?”

“Only of his own guilt,” he said, “and that I made the right decision stepping down.”

She nodded.

They headed back toward the common area of the reformatory and saw Andy and Ben playing fetch with the dogs out in the street. Hank was watching them, sitting on the hood of the prison bus and drinking a cup of something as he did so.

“Austin, Amanda!” he called. “Want some lemonade? It’s a little sweet but not bad at all.”

“I’m good,” Austin said, looking at Amanda.

She smiled and shook her head.

“What about you, boys?” Hank asked. “Keeping up with Russ is thirsty work, huh?”

The boys were too engaged to even respond.

“Austin,” Hank called.

Austin and Amanda both came over.

“I should have told you before,” Hank said, “but I guess late’s better than never.”

“What is it, Hank?” Amanda asked.

“We’re leaving,” Hank said. “Ben and I, we’re out of here. I’ve already packed up a truck with our stuff. Reckon we’ll try to see how things are down south. Maybe California, I don’t know. I always wanted Ben to see the ocean.”

Ben gave a small smile, and leaned into his father’s side.

“He can see the ocean from Washington, Hank,” Austin said.

“It’s a different sort of thing, I suppose,” Hank said. “More like a fresh start.”

“Sun and sand, huh?” Amanda asked.

“Just getting a bit of space,” Hank said. “From all of this. There are a lot of good memories here, and a lot of good people. Heck, I don’t need to tell you that, of course. But there’s also a lot of bad. I don’t think we can—”

“Hank,” Austin said, lightly holding his shoulder, “you don’t have to explain anything. Just take care of yourselves.”

Hank nodded. “I found the truck,” he said, “still in good working order. I’m leaving the community trucks for your benefit. If people want a mass exodus again, I’m sure more vehicles can be found.”

“Thanks, Hank,” Amanda said.

Savannah and Malachi came out of the building then. Malachi was walking slowly but walking. His color was good, and he was smiling.

“I’ll miss you,” Andy said.

He was looking at Ben, and then at Hank, and then he hugged them both.

“We’ll miss you too, sport,” Hank said. “But this isn’t the end. We’ll meet again, I’m sure of it.”

“You can count on that,” Austin said. “And you’ll be able to find us at Golden Harvest Farm, at least in the short term.”

“We’re not staying?” Andy said.

“Well,” Austin said reasonably, “we haven’t even got there yet. What if there isn’t any room?”

“I’ll sleep outside,” Andy said.

Austin chuckled.

“And I bet you would,” he said, “but I think we can do better than that.”

“I’m sure Golden Harvest can do better than that,” Amanda added.

“Golden Harvest,” Hank said. “I like it. And I’ll see you there.”

“Wait till you see their grill,” Malachi said. “They’ve got the method down pat!”

“Well, then I’ll definitely be there,” Hank said.

Savannah and Malachi said their own goodbyes to Hank and his family, and they got into the beaten-up Chevy truck Hank had found and drove off down the road headed for the interstate. Andy didn’t cry, but after they’d left, he was quiet.

“We will see them again,” Andy said, “right?”

“I think,” Austin said, “that when you care about people, when you love them, they’re always with you. And if you believe you’ll see them again, you will.”

Andy sniffed, then nodded. “I’ll see Ben again. I believe it.”

Austin pulled Andy into a side hug.

Austin was filled with a new, beautifully unfettered sense of hope for the future. Things looked bright, and it wasn’t just the cloudless Washington sky that morning. He still had his family, Andy still had a family, and Golden Harvest lay ahead of them.

“When do we leave?” Andy asked. “Are we staying while Savannah and Malachi—well, until they do whatever they’ve gotta do?”

“We’ll go ahead, I think,” Austin said. “I don’t want us to waste any time figuring out if the farm is a viable option.”

“Viable?”

“Like if the farm is actually somewhere we can stay for any length of time,” Austin said. “I don’t want us to get there only to have to push on after a few days. Then Malachi and Savannah will be arriving afterward, and it’ll be a pain in the—”

“Neck?” Andy said.

Austin nodded.

“Exactly,” he said. “A pain in the darn neck.”

Andy chuckled, then leaned against Austin’s side once more. “I wish Savannah and Malachi were going with us, too.”

“I know, bud,” Austin said. “We’re gonna miss them, and they’re gonna miss us. But just think how excited we’ll be when we’re reunited! We can even throw a party.”

Andy looked up at Austin and grinned. “A party sounds good. When are we going?”

“How’s tomorrow sound, champ?” Austin asked.

“And the dogs?”

“What about them?”

“Can they come?” Andy asked.

“They’re part of the family, Andy,” Austin said. “Of course they’re coming with us.”

The next day, they headed out together in one of the community trucks.

Jake rode with them so he could return the truck after the trip and scavenge for weapons. They’d used almost all their ammo between the assault on the Columbia Center and the fight at the police station, and in case any further conflict came to the community around Seattle, they’d need to be ready.

Austin and Jake split the driving, and Amanda rode up front while Andy and the dogs got comfy in the back.

“Been a while since I’ve been on anything that felt like a road trip,” Jake said. “But this kinda does.”

“I guess it’s the nobody’s trying to kill us element of it,” Amanda said.

Jake chuckled.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, “I suppose it is.”

37

Amanda was gathering firewood, and she smiled to herself.

It was nice to do something like that—collect firewood, go out looking for game, even just doing laundry—without having to feel like they were on the move. It was nice to know that after all the journeying, on the road or cross-country, or even—heaven forbid—soaring high in Colin’s Piper-32, they were staying put.

Don’t jinx it now, woman, she thought.

She’d found enough dry wood to keep the farm fire going through the night if they wanted, and she dropped it off in the wood stores. The same wood stores she’d appreciated when Sofia, one of the farm residents, had given them the initial tour.

The farm was busy when they’d visited before, but now it was positively bustling. The number of residents had grown from dozens to more than a hundred, and more structures had been built to accommodate the residents.

As old friends, Amanda and Austin had been allowed to sleep inside the house in the same quarters they’d had before. She could look out in the morning and see the sun rising over the woods, the junkyard brothers’ old property now abandoned and a fine place to find tools and useful bits of scrap.

The night Amanda and Austin had arrived, there was a thick layer of snow across the landscape. Sofia opened the door to them, heaving half a foot of fallen snow out of the way as she did.

“I don’t believe my eyes,” she said and welcomed them with open arms.

This time, they didn’t have to surrender their weapons, but they left them safe in the hands of Carlos, Sofia’s partner, and settled in the communal living room downstairs in the farmhouse. Sofia came in from the kitchen with a tray carrying a teapot and three cups.

“Carlos not joining us?” Austin said.

“He’s working on a new milling system,” Sofia said. “He says it’s very important.”

“Well, it sounds it,” Austin said seriously.

Sofia laughed. “The more people we take, the more that seems to happen,” she said. “Makes sense if I think about it even a minute!”

“Things are going great here,” Amanda said, “by the look of it. People must be flocking to you.”

“We take all kinds,” she said. “Lucky for you, huh?”

Amanda laughed, and Sofia poured them both some tea.

“Old people,” Sofia said, “young people. We’ve got generations of wisdom in here, and the manpower to run the farm like we always wanted to.”

“A lot of mouths to feed,” Austin said.

“It is,” Sofia said, “and we love it. The land provides, and we respect it.”

“That’s how it should be,” Amanda said.

“Any negative attention?” Austin said. “Sort of people turning up that you wouldn’t want to take in, I mean?”

“We’ve been lucky,” Sofia said. “And don’t think I haven’t heard about what you’ve been up to.”

Austin looked at Amanda, confused.

“Lydia Koble is dead,” Sofia said.

“How did you—” Amanda started.

“A family arrived out of Seattle just a few days ago,” Sofia said. “We’d met them before—similar situation to you all. They say Koble was in charge of most of the gangs that ended up running the roads, and that somebody killed her in Emerald City.”

“Sounds like something out of a fairy tale,” Amanda said wryly.

“You can’t tell me that wasn’t you two.” Sofia regarded them with quiet interest. “You were pretty tight-lipped when you were here before,” Sofia said. “It actually made Carlos a little edgy.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No, Austin,” Sofia said, “it’s not like that. It’s just—well, we knew you were all into something, but we never thought you were bad people. Good people caught up in trouble maybe, but you never seemed out of your depth.”

Austin snorted, then waved apologetically.

“I’m just glad you made it out,” Sofia said.

Weeks went by, until Christmas Eve morning.

Amanda sat on a rocking chair on the back porch, looking at the yard between the outbuildings and before the stretching farm fields. Everything was white with snow, and at the back of the yard she saw Andy and Austin dragging a large fir tree together. Andy was mostly just the red blob of his jacket at this distance, but she could see Austin wearing his leather jacket and blue jeans—the ones she liked.

She could barely hear the dogs from so far away, but they were barking with excitement, bounding around the pair of them and the tree.

“Amanda,” Sofia called from the balcony upstairs.

Amanda stepped out of the porch and looked up to greet her. “Morning, Sofia,” she said.

“Have you remembered about tomorrow?”

“The Christmas party?” Amanda asked. “I’ve thought of nothing else, and it looks like Austin and Andy have found you a fine tree.”

Sofia looked out, then ran back inside, probably excited to tell Carlos.

“Left it a little late, no, Austin?” Amanda said to herself, smiling.

Inside, Amanda helped set the table for lunch.

The fire was roaring behind the grate, and she could feel its heat from yards away. She put out the finest cutlery she could find. She tried to remember which order the spoons and knives went in, then decided she wasn’t working as part of the waitstaff on the RMS Titanic and didn’t have to bother.

And remember how that turned out, anyway, she thought.

Sofia hadn’t even left an awful lot for her to do. There was already a roast turkey resting at the center of the table, and there was a ham and even Italian-style sausages. Those were Carlos’s specialty, according to Sofia. There was mashed potatoes and gravy and sweet potato casserole, and a green bean casserole too.

Amanda thought of the Thanksgiving dinner she hadn’t had and thought she might as well be having it on Christmas Eve instead.

Sofia and the other residents of the main building had been cleaning for the last week, and everything looked spotless. There were a few parties and gatherings planned for around the farm, allowing families and subcommunities—most commonly those who’d known each other from prior residences—to celebrate together and separately in their own ways.

“Where’s the tree gonna go?” Andy asked.

“Andy, take your boots off before you come into the house proper,” Amanda said.

“The house proper?” Andy asked.

“Never mind,” she said, “just take ’em off before you come onto the carpet, honey.”

“Sure thing,” Andy said.

The dogs rushed in then, tramping snow across the first few yards of the carpet, and Amanda burst out laughing.

“See, there’s still a point in telling you, Andy,” she said. “Now, the tree.” She looked around the room.

“Over there?” Andy asked, pointing at the corner just to the right of the fireplace. “Is that far enough away from the fire?”

“What do you think, Austin?” Amanda asked.

“I think that’ll be fine,” Austin said.

Andy snapped his fingers and pumped his fist.

“But right now I need a rest,” Austin said, groaning as he eased himself onto the couch.

“Lunch is ready,” Amanda said, “but I think it’s gonna be dinner too. And then there’s more to do tomorrow. And then we’ll have to share it.”

“We share anyway,” Andy said, walking to the table.

“Sofia?” Amanda called. “You ready?”

Sofia came running down, and out of nowhere the farmhouse residents all joined them, and they started in on lunch. They ate and talked, and Amanda got the chance to share some exciting news.

“We’ve got visitors for Christmas tomorrow,” she said.

Austin looked up from his plate, his eyes suddenly wild.

“Savannah?” he asked.

“And Malachi,” Amanda said, smiling. “News just came in from Seattle. Apparently the Skykomish community, if you can still call it that, has integrated into Seattle nicely. I guess a lot of them probably just went home.”

“That’s great,” Austin asked. “Do you know when they’ll be here?”

“Late morning,” Amanda said. “At least that’s what the message said. Don just came back from a trade mission there this morning and said they all send their regards.”

“That’s awesome,” Sofia said. “They can help us with the food.”

“How much more food do we need?” Andy asked.

“Not making it, kid,” Sofia said. “Eating it.”

Andy took that last statement as a direct instruction and served himself another sausage and three more spoonfuls of mashed potatoes.

After dinner, they got on with the decorating still to do. Austin and Andy put the tree up, with Carlos helping to stabilize it, and the thing went all the way up above the second-floor landing and almost touched the beams above it.

Amanda had rediscovered the forgotten pleasures of making a paper chain and was happily sipping brandy from a glass patterned with cartoon reindeer.

There was a heavy knock at the door.

Amanda looked at Austin, and then at Sofia. “Are you expecting anybody?”

“We’re always expecting someone these days,” Sofia said. “Happens all the time. And hey, it’s Christmas Eve.”

Amanda felt uneasy, and she wasn’t sure why. Her first thought had been where her gun was, and then for one flashing, horrible moment, she didn’t know. And then she did remember. It was upstairs, stashed in a drawer under her socks.

What the heck good is it up there? she thought.

No good.

It didn’t matter anyway, because Sofia was already heading down the hall for the door.

Austin joined Amanda, touched her arm, and then she didn’t feel crazy. She didn’t feel comfortable again, but she didn’t feel crazy. He was thinking the same thing she was, and it might just be because they’d forgotten how to be at peace, even when the surroundings and company were peaceful.

She felt naked without the gun, and she realized that nobody probably had a gun. There was a shotgun stashed in the kitchen, but she didn’t have time. If there was a gang outside, maybe some of Koble’s people who knew they had information on NEXUS, or just the next power-hungry lunatics wanting to take over Koble’s mantle, there wouldn’t be anything they could do.

It would take seconds, and then it could all be over.

“Hey!” Sofia cried.

Amanda rushed forward, and her heart leaped.

“Merry Christmas!” Malachi said. He was grinning his usual, stupid, lovely grin, and Savannah was next to him.

“You’re early,” Amanda said. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Well, believe it,” Savannah said. She came in and handed Amanda a small paper bag with a few gifts inside it.

“It’s not much,” Savannah said, “but it’s something for each of us.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Amanda said.

Austin came past Amanda and hugged Savannah close, and she pushed up on her tiptoes to meet him. Malachi hugged Amanda, and she was happy to feel the strength seemed to have returned to his right arm. He was walking well, and she could hardly tell he’d even been injured.

“Not bad, right?” he said. “I can feel it when I lift my arm up like this—ouch!”

“Stop doing that,” Savannah said. “Are you stupid?”

“Hey,” Austin said, “that’s not Christmas talk. And if Malachi’s stupid, you let him be stupid.”

“Hey!” Malachi protested.

“No problem, Malachi,” Austin said.

Sofia invited them in, and some of the other residents moved off to their own quarters. Most people were tired after all the preparations, and Amanda was no exception. Still, the arrival of Malachi and Savannah, and even just Andy’s excitement at that alone, was enough to buoy her for a while longer.

They sat on the couches before the fire and listened to all the news from Seattle.

“The security force stuff was great,” Malachi said. “After what happened with Koble, and those final fights in Seattle, even out at the police station, there was a good feeling.”

“A good feeling?” Amanda asked, genuinely surprised. She was still remembering those who’d died, and now spent too many of her days trying her best not to think about them.

“It showed those people they could stand up to tyranny,” Malachi said. “At least that’s what I take from it.”

“No, it’s true,” Savannah said. “People died, and that’s always tragic, but there’s nothing like a victory like that to give people hope. They didn’t even need the power on.”

“Koble was dangling that,” Austin said.

“But it was a lie,” Savannah said. “She never would have supplied it.”

Amanda nodded. “Not for free, anyway,” she said.

“They listened though,” Malachi said, “the trainees. Even some of the experienced fighters enjoyed taking the sessions. I guess they saw they could help pass on the knowledge.”

“And Hank?” Austin asked. “Have you heard from him at all?”

Savannah shook her head. “You told him to check in on you here, right?” she asked. “I’m sure he will.”

“He will,” Amanda said.

Savannah and Malachi began talking to Andy about all the work he’d been putting in on the farm since his arrival, and his tone kept lunging aggressively between what might have been complaining to unbridled jubilation at being near so many animals and large, earth-moving farm equipment. The dogs were curled up between the three of them, heads swaying back and forth between whoever was speaking at any given moment.

Amanda rested her hand lightly on Austin’s knee, and he squeezed it.

“I can’t believe this,” she said. “The way things go.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Us,” she said, “here, this, all of this.”

He looked around the room. The fire, the hanging decorations, and the few scant cards that’d been written. Some traditions seemed more important or relevant than others, Amanda supposed. The room was the picture of a perfect Christmas, and the snow was still falling just outside the window. She could see the gentle orange glow from the lamp hanging outside.

“The decorations?” he said. “Christmas?”

“The farm,” Amanda said. “Us being here, being back here, of all things. After dragging you out of that river all that time ago, and how fast it’s gone.”

“I don’t know, Amanda,” he said. “Some of those times seemed slow as anything. And I’ve never had more guns shoved in my face, and I wasn’t a total stranger to that before.”

“I know,” she said. “It hasn’t been easy.”

He touched her neck lightly. “It’s been a lot easier having you, darling,” he said.

She smiled.

“Hey,” Austin said, “everybody.”

Everyone looked up.

Russ had a paper hat on his head, courtesy of Andy. Savannah and Malachi sat together, holding hands, and Amanda wasn’t sure Austin had noticed. It could hardly come as a surprise, and she couldn’t think of anyone who’d look after the girl more than Malachi. For that matter, she couldn’t think of anyone who’d be so adept at getting Malachi out of trouble as Savannah.

It was all right.

“I want to propose a toast,” Austin said. “So get your brandy or your beer, or your ginger ale in you young’uns’ cases.”

Andy’s face screwed up in disgust.

“You’ve got a glass of milk, Andy,” Austin said. “That’ll do fine.”

Austin raised his beer. “To family,” he said, “and to a peaceful future.”

They said cheers and clinked their glasses together.

Andy dove back into a story for Savannah and Malachi, and the dogs curled up together on the floor. Maggy looked to be asleep, using Russ’s side for a pillow, and just looking at that made Amanda think of her own bed.

Just a little longer, she thought.

She didn’t want to miss one moment.

END OF SURVIVE THE TURMOIL

SMALL TOWN EMP BOOK 6

Survive the Chaos, July 11, 2019

Survive the Aftermath, August 8, 2019

Survive the Conflict, September 12, 2019

Survive the Unrest, April 9, 2025

Survive the Trap, May 14, 2025

Survive the Turmoil, June 11, 2025

PS: Do you love post-apocalyptic survival thrillers? Then keep reading for exclusive extracts from After the Fallout, and Erupting Trouble.

THANK YOU

Thank you for purchasing ‘Survive the Turmoil’

(Small Town EMP Book 6)

Get prepared and sign-up to Grace’s mailing list

to be notified of my next release at

www.GraceHamiltonBooks.com.

Loved this book? Share it with a friend,

www.GraceHamiltonBooks.com/books

MAKE AN AUTHOR’S DAY

There's nothing better than reading great reviews from readers like yourself, but there's more to it than simply putting a smile on my face. As an independent author, I don't have the financial might of a big NYC publishing house or the clout to get in Oprah's book club. What I do have as my not-so-secret weapon is you, my awesome readers!

If you enjoyed this book, I'd be incredibly grateful if you could leave a quick review. Simply TAP HERE or just leave a review when prompted by Amazon at the end of this book. Alternatively, head over to the product page for this book on Amazon and leave a review there—look for the WRITE A CUSTOMER REVIEW link.

No matter the length (short is fine!), your review will help this series get the exposure it needs to grow and make it into the hands of other awesome readers. Plus, reading your kind reviews is often the highlight of my day, so please be sure to let me know what you loved most about this book.

ABOUT GRACE HAMILTON

Grace Hamilton is the prepper pen-name for a bad-ass, survivalist momma-bear of four kids, and wife to a wonderful husband. After being stuck in a mountain cabin for six days following a flash flood, she decided she never wanted to feel so powerless or have to send her kids to bed hungry again. Now she lives the prepper lifestyle and knows that if SHTF or TEOTWAWKI happens, she’ll be ready to help protect and provide for her family.

Combine this survivalist mentality with a vivid imagination (as well as a slightly unhealthy day dreaming habit) and you get a prepper fiction author. Grace spends her days thinking about the worst possible survival situations that a person could be thrown into, then throwing her characters into these nightmares while trying to figure out "What SHOULD you do in this situation?"

You will find Grace on:

BLURB

The world has gone dark. And danger lurks in the shadows…

When an EMP attack takes out the entire West Coast, Claire finds herself fighting to save her ex-husband’s life. As society collapses, Claire is determined to protect her family—and she’s desperate to find her sister, Lydia, before the situation gets worse…

Barely surviving a devastating plane crash, Lydia finds herself lost and alone in the remote wilderness. But she won’t be alone for long… Lydia is the surrogate for a cruel, powerful family. They want the child inside of her. And they consider Lydia herself expendable…

Claire and Lydia must rely on the survivalist training they learned at their father’s knee. Once reunited, they plan to make their way to their family’s old homestead, and wait out the coming storm.

But in this savage new world, safety is just an illusion. If they can’t work together to fight off the threats looming on the horizon, then all hope is lost…

Get your copy of After the Fallout

Available August 13, 2025

(Available for Pre-Order Now!)

www.GraceHamiltonBooks.com

EXCERPT

Chapter One

Lydia

The 30,000-foot view from her tiny window revealed a vast landscape of forested hills, mountains, ravines, and rivers through large gaps in the low-lying clouds. In the far distance, a small lake glinted in the morning sunlight. So much unfettered, open space—hundreds of miles of freedom in all directions, and it was all out of her reach. Lydia Taylor leaned her forehead against the window, felt cold air through the inner pane, and daydreamed about passing right through and casting herself into the open air. She even imagined, absurd as she knew it was, that she might angle herself toward that distant lake as she fell, hit the water at just the right angle, and survive the fall.

Maybe she could find a parachute. Somehow.

“Do you need anything?” A soft voice spoke, surprisingly gentle considering her circumstances.

Lydia sat up, pulling away from the window. Her chains rattled. This brought her fully out of the daydream and back to the unpleasant reality of her situation. The man standing beside her seat had kind eyes, but looks could be deceiving. He was on the skinny side, dark-skinned, with a mop of neatly combed black hair. His uniform shirt fit loosely, but it was crisp and sparkling white.

“I could use a Coke,” Lydia replied. “Oh, and also the keys for this thing, if it’s not too much trouble.”

She held up her hands as high as the chain would let her. The transport restraint had cuffs for her wrists and ankles, connected by another long chain. That was bad enough, but the guard had looped the bottom chain to the support post of her seat, which kept her left foot firmly locked in place.

“Wish I could,” the copilot said, with an uncomfortable laugh. Danny. His name was Danny something. “But you know the Hartleys.”

“All too well,” Lydia replied with a sigh. “How about taking a short detour and landing in Lake Tahoe so I can get out and stretch my legs? You guys can stay on board and wait for me while I take a little walk.”

He laughed again, but it was clearly forced. “No, I’m afraid not, but I’ll get you that Coke.”

She nodded as he walked away. The interior of the Learjet 45 had room for eight padded seats. The Hartleys’ big bruiser of a guard, dressed in a rumpled dark-blue uniform, was seated directly behind her. His breathing was like some great ape snorting. Maybe he was just making his presence known.

Danny came back a moment later with an open can of Coke, but of course, she didn’t have enough range of motion to serve herself. So he bent down and awkwardly gave her a sip. It was too ridiculous.

“That’s enough,” she said, a trail of cola dribbling down her chin.

“Just one sip?” Danny asked, dabbing the spill on a cocktail napkin. “Are you sure?”

She nodded.

The copilot was beaming like he’d just done her some great favor, and it made her sick. Didn’t he realize he was complicit in human trafficking?

She couldn’t believe she’d gotten so desperate for money she wound up here.

“Well, I guess I’ll head back up front,” Danny said, giving her one last small smile. “If you need anything else, just let me know.” As he started to turn away, he glanced at the seat behind hers, and the smile evaporated.

“I’ve got it covered,” the guard said to him gruffly. “Just fly the damn plane.”

Danny tipped the guard a little salute. Then he headed toward the cockpit, open Coke in his hand.

Lydia almost let him walk away, but this guy was the only semi-decent person on the plane. That made him her best and only chance to do…something, anything about her situation. She screwed up her courage, took a deep breath, and said, “Wait. Please.”

Danny stopped just in front of the open cockpit door. He glanced at the guard again, then favored Lydia with a wary look.

She scrambled to think of a plan. “I really need to pee,” she said, finally.

“We got an hour left in the flight,” the guard growled from behind her. “Can’t you hold it?”

“I’ve got a growing fetus resting on my bladder,” Lydia replied.

“A four-month-old fetus,” the guard said. “He ain’t that big yet.”

“Look, either I pee in the bathroom, or I pee all over the Hartleys’ nice white leather seats. Which do you prefer?”

“Come on, man, let her use the bathroom,” Danny said to the guard. “She’s not going anywhere! We’re at cruising altitude.”

“Fine,” the guard grumbled. “But don’t waste my time. Get in there, get it done, and get out. Don’t try playing games with me.”

“There’s no game to be played,” Lydia said. “What could I possibly do?”

“Annoy me. You could annoy me.”

The guard’s seat creaked as he rose. A second later, he stepped into view, a broad-shouldered beast of a man with a neck like a tree trunk and a blunt, anvil-shaped head. He waved the copilot back, then worked his way in front of Lydia’s seat. The man reeked of strong, expensive cologne that made her gag. She had become sensitive to smells recently. As he messed with the lock, the chain tugged, her hands and wrists forced against her belly for an uncomfortable minute. Then the lock popped open, and she was released.

The guard rose, grabbed the chain holding her wrists together, and hoisted her up from her seat. She wasn’t ready for it, and a spike of pain went down her back and crackled in her pelvis. Then he undid the locks on her handcuffs and pulled them away. Free at last, she massaged her wrists one at a time.

“Careful with her,” Danny said. “No need to be rough. The Hartleys wouldn’t want her banged up.”

“Mind your business,” the guard replied. “I know what I’m doing. Get back in the cockpit where you belong.”

Danny took a step back, but he did not return to the cockpit. He flinched as the guard stepped past him, pulling Lydia into the aisle.

“Thanks,” Lydia said to Danny. Any small bit of kindness was like a drink of water in the desert. Most of the Hartleys’ henchmen treated her worse than cattle.

Even with her ankles unchained, she had to take small, shuffling steps down the aisle toward the back of the plane. The guard kept one enormous meaty paw on her shoulder, then gave her a gentle but forceful shove toward the restroom. She caught herself against the doorframe, but her eyes went to the cabinets and cupboards on the wall across the aisle. Surely, one of those cabinets contained something she could use—a knife, a screwdriver, some large weighty object.

She didn’t have long to think about it, as the guard pushed her into the restroom. It was a space so tiny, she couldn’t avoid brushing at least two walls, no matter what position she took.

“Do it fast,” the guard said, sliding the door shut. “I’ll give you three minutes, not a second more.”

Lydia moved around and finally settled her hip against the tiny sink, one hand bracing herself against the other wall. She didn’t actually have to pee, but the restroom afforded her the only real privacy to try to come up with an escape plan. In fact, a scene from an old movie was playing in her head—Leonardo DiCaprio escaping from a plane mid-flight by unscrewing and removing the toilet, then crawling into the cargo hold and hiding until the plane landed.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t had the time or opportunity to search for a tool. As she looked around, she realized it didn’t much matter. The toilet was tiny, low to the floor, and she didn’t see any obvious screws. Still, she had to try something, so she began painfully trying to lower herself, using the lip of the sink to push her body where it did not want to go.

She was still trying to wedge herself toward the floor in front of the toilet when she heard a strange electrical buzz coming from somewhere outside the restroom. Maybe the cockpit? Was that an alarm? She felt a jolt of adrenaline, and just then, the lights cut out, plunging her into darkness. Her stomach lurched, and her whole body trembled.

And then her feet left the floor as she became weightless.

Oh, God, we’re falling, she realized, heart leaping into her throat. The buzzing outside stopped, and a dreadful quiet followed. She could no longer hear the plane’s engines.

Get your copy of After the Fallout

Available August 13, 2025

(Available for Pre-Order Now!)

www.GraceHamiltonBooks.com

BLURB

He’ll get his ailing father home…

Matthew Riley wants to believe people come together in times of struggle, but as chaos sets in after a massive EMP event, he discovers the only people he can trust are family. His father, an Army vet, has skills to survive this dark new world, but with no medication for his heart, keeping him alive may prove an impossible task.

She’ll protect her daughter and reunite her family…

Kathleen Riley doesn’t share her husband’s optimistic view of humanity. When the power goes out during a visit to her brother in prison, she and her teenage daughter must find a way out before starting the long trek back to their family.

They’ll defend their home…

With the rest of the Rileys away from home, it’s up to Ruth and her grandson, Patton, to keep their hotel safe for the family they know is coming back. But food is running low, and some see an elderly woman and a preteen boy as easy pickings.

In a broken civilization, there is strength in numbers. One family is determined to survive, but will they be able to defend themselves against desperate survivors?

Great news! Erupting Trouble is even better than before - it was expanded & republished in February 2024!

Grab your copy of Erupting Trouble (EMP Catastrophe: Book 1)

eBook

Paperback

Audiobook

www.GraceHamiltonBooks.com

EXCERPT

Chapter One

From his spot in the cashier’s line of Wilson’s Antiques, Matthew Riley smiled at the gorgeous expanse of blue sky that he could see outside the shop’s windows. It was turning out to be a beautiful day, and not just because of the spring Wisconsin weather: he’d junk-hunted through rickety wooden chairs and strange metal plush seats from the ’60s, and had found a set of green velvet chairs. They’d be perfect decor for the hotel's summertime grand opening. Even his daughter, Allison, would think them retro-cool instead of outdated-gross. The ticket to claim and purchase rested in his palm.

“If this line moves any slower, I might keel over,” David grumbled beside him. His father wasn’t wrong—it seemed a lot of people had the same idea of taking advantage of the weather to hunt for trash turned to treasure. They were near the back of the line, and up ahead, the cashier was doing her best to keep the line moving.

“We have nowhere else to be,” Matthew told his father. “You can consider this mission a success. We found everything we came for here.”

“And some things we didn’t expect to find. What is this thing, anyway?” David asked, gesturing to the items in the basket Matthew held.

“It’s an old-timey coffee grinder,” Matthew said.

“Could just buy a new one,” David responded, peering at the squat wooden box with a rotating handle. “Looks like a Jack in the Box. Remember those toys?”

“It’s about the aesthetic. The River Rock Hotel is a rustic resort, and that’s what our guests will expect. We’re not going to use it, but doesn’t it look cool? People will imagine what it was like to explore the wilderness and find ways to get their morning joe while watching the sun come over the hill.”

“Should’ve kept my coffee grinder from when I was a young man. It might not have had the same aesthetic, but at least it worked and looked old. You could’ve used that for free instead of paying twenty bucks for something that cost fifty cents back in the day.”

“Fifty cents then might’ve been the same amount as twenty bucks now,” Matthew said. The lights above flickered, almost as if someone was playing with the light switch. “It’s called inflation, Dad.”

David snorted. The lights continued to stutter, casting a dim flickering glow over the customers. With a sudden bright surge, as if the bulbs had been pushed to their max, the store fell into darkness. Around him, the customers in line murmured.

“Sorry, folks,” the cashier said in a loud voice. “Looks like we lost power. Again.”

A collective groan rose.

“We’ll just wait for it to kick back on, and then we’d be happy to give you all a 10% discount for your patience and understanding,” the cashier finished. She pushed a straggling lock of hair off her forehead with the look of a rabbit caught in a trap.

“I can’t wait for you to get your store back in order," one woman near the front said. "You should be prepared for this. It’s Madison, for goodness’s sake. The electricity is always unreliable in the spring.”

“It figures,” a young man said to his friend just in front of Matthew. “These kinds of shops aren’t investing in tech or updating their contingency plans in case something happens. Something like this could send them under. You need to take steps to ensure you aren’t losing your customer base just because the electricity goes out. The winter ice must've done a number on their infrastructure.”

Some of the customers rolled their eyes and pulled out their phones as the grumbling continued. Matthew sighed. He understood why everyone was frustrated—the world was a hustle-and-bustle kind of economy, where listless time meant money lost or accomplishments not achieved. Still, the poor cashier looked flushed and stressed, and Matthew tended to have a strong, soothing personality. If everyone just understood that they were in the same boat, things would calm down. Sometimes it just took a little nudge for everyone to remember that. He opened his mouth.

“Don’t even think about it,” David said to him under his breath. Matthew gave his father an irritated look. The two of them were so similar, yet their experiences had shaped them into two very different men.

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Matthew said, but even he could hear the lie in his voice. “While we’re waiting, I’ll check in on Kathleen.” He pulled out his phone and dialed his wife so she’d know they might be late. She'd been on his mind all morning. He knew today would be hard on her.

“She’s inside a prison,” David said to him gently. “I bet neither she nor Allison can answer. Especially during visitation hours.”

Matthew kept the phone to his ear, but he couldn’t hear anything. The phone was eerily silent. He ended the call with a frown. His battery was fully charged. Why wouldn’t the call go through? “It’s not that. The call doesn’t even go anywhere.”

He could feel tension in his shoulders. The power had gone out in the building and now his phone didn’t work. Something was wrong.

David shrugged as he pulled out his much older cell phone. “This old building probably has too much concrete blocking the signal. Maybe a tower’s down. I don’t have signal either.”

Matthew tried to shake off that creeping feeling of concern working its way up his back. “It’s all right. I just wanted to check in with her. It’s tough for her, seeing her brother locked up. I feel bad not being there with her.”

“You can’t be in two places at once. She’ll be all right,” David said. “Plus, the hotel is like having another child. You were needed here.”

Matthew swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, steering the conversation back into familiar territory with a joke. “At least it’s a child we’re raising together.”

“The most time-consuming money-sink of a child I've ever had.”

Matthew smirked, knowing his father liked to pretend the hotel hadn't given him some purpose in his retirement. "You fuss over the place more than I do."

"Never thought I’d be a retiree,” David mused and scratched at his temple. He had the same sandy-blond hair as Matthew, only his was cut military style and had been for decades. “In all honesty, opening this hotel together will be as good for me as it is for you.”

“It’s been Kathleen’s and my dream for a while now. It’s about time we took the steps to make it happen. I'm glad you and Mom decided to be part of that dream too.” Matthew paused. “I know we told Mom we’d be back early this afternoon to help her and Patton clean up the rooms, but they’ll understand why we might be late.”

David grinned. “Patton’s probably driving Ruth up the wall.”

“Hey, he elected to stay behind and help clean.” Matthew held his hands up, palms out. “Sometimes I don’t understand that child of mine. I wouldn’t be caught dead having to clean, especially on a nice day like this.”

"Oh yeah, as opposed to shopping, which has always been something boys enjoy."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny."

Up ahead, the cashier held her hands around her mouth. “Hi there, valuable customers! Since the power doesn’t seem like it’s coming back on right away, we are going to ring out customers with cash purchases only. If you have a cash purchase, please form a new line to the right.”

“Are you serious?” the woman near the front yelled. She walked out of line and around the numerous displays, leaving her pile of things in the middle of the store. “You’ve just lost my business.”

“I’m with her,” another man seconded as he abandoned his items.

"I'd be more than happy to put your purchases on hold until tomorrow," the cashier said, her face crumpled with distress.

"You think I'd ever come back to a mismanaged establishment like this?" The bell above the door jingled as the woman stormed out.

“That’s uncalled for,” David said, his gruff voice low. “No need to be rude.”

“They’re just frustrated.” Matthew released a sigh and looked down to his basket. “I don’t have much cash on me. Not enough to get the chairs, that’s for sure.”

David watched as most of the customers left their items strewn about the store or dumped on displays. “Maybe we should come back when things aren’t so hostile.”

“Yeah, this poor lady has enough to deal with. Let’s go put our things back. The furniture hasn’t been pulled yet.” Matthew ran a hand through his short, wavy hair, and placed the coffee grinder back on the shelf.

He turned a watchful eye on his father, who was placing a few art deco hinges and doorknobs back, and searched for any signs he was in any medical distress.

“This whole thing has been a bust,” he said to David. “Feel like heading home? We can try again another day.” He shouldn’t push his father to keep going and explore the other antique shops in Madison.

“You read my mind.” David rubbed his gnarled hands together as if to warm them. His eyes skittered around the shop, always taking in his surroundings. Old habits die hard. Matthew nodded, and together they walked out into the bright sunny day.

The warmth hit Matthew’s face, dispelling his worry over his wife and daughter. It was hard to be upset on a day like today. Together, David and Matthew headed to Matthew’s silver truck—a few years old, but still up to date. They hopped in the truck’s cab, and Matthew clipped his seatbelt before reaching to start the vehicle by hitting the button.

Usually, a green light flashed at him when the engine started up and his phone connected to the Bluetooth. Now the light flashed yellow. With a frown, he pulled out the key fob from his pocket and held the angular piece to the button. The button flashed green, indicating the key was near, but when Matthew tried to turn the truck on, nothing happened. “C’mon,” Matthew said, pressing the button again. “You have to be kidding me.”

“I’ll go check it out.” David laughed, opening the truck door to get out.

“There’s no way,” Matthew said, holding the fob closer to the button, only now no colored light flashed to even acknowledge the key was present. He didn’t hear any clicking or whirring indicating that the system knew he was in the car. He popped the hood and followed his father out of the cab.

David lifted the hood up and hooked it open. Matthew bit back the admonishment to be careful. Ever since his heart attack, his father had been sensitive to Matthew’s hovering. David poked at the looping wires bundled along the engine, checked a few things that Matthew had no idea what they did—a master’s in business did not a mechanic make.

“What’s it look like?” Matthew asked.

“I can’t see anything wrong,” David said slowly. “Probably left an interior light on that drained the battery. Happens to the best of us. You’re low on washer fluid.”

Matthew was certain he hadn’t left a light on and even if he had, they weren’t in the store long enough to drain the battery. He did a mental check to see when he’d replaced the truck battery. It was less than a year old. Matthew looked around and saw that despite the exodus of people from the shop, a lot of cars still filled the parking lot. “We need to call for a tow.”

“If you have signal. Let’s go back inside and see if anyone can give us a jump. It’ll be faster than waiting for a tow truck.”

“Good idea.” Matthew smiled at his father. “I’m sure someone will help us out.”

David patted Matthew on the back, and together they turned to head back inside Wilson’s Antiques.

Grab your copy of Erupting Trouble (EMP Catastrophe: Book 1)

eBook

Paperback

Audiobook

www.GraceHamiltonBooks.com

WANT MORE?

WWW.GRACEHAMILTONBOOKS.COM