Little Forest Novels, Box Set, Books 1-4
Author: Jessica Grace Coleman
Date: 2015-09-11 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Post-Apocalyptic | EMP | Survival
Description: Jessica Grace Coleman brings you the first four novels in the paranormal mystery 'Little Forest' series: 'The Former World', 'Memento Mori', 'The Exalted' and 'Carnival Masquerade'. Save money by buying 4 in 1! For free stuff and news on her books, sign up to Jessica's mailing list at www.jessicagracecoleman.com. “Little Forest is the only place I've ever lived, and it's the place where I'm going to die. Tonight.” These are the words of Beth Powers, long-time resident of Little Forest. On the surface, she’s just an ordinary English girl in a typical English village, but appearances can be dece

EMP DISASTER

Emerging Chaos

Enduring Chaos

Breaking Chaos

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, DECEMBER 2021

Copyright © 2021 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.

www.relaypub.com

CONTENTS

Emerging Chaos

Blurb

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

Epilogue

End of Emerging Chaos

Enduring Chaos

Blurb

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

Epilogue

End of Enduring Chaos

Breaking Chaos

Blurb

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

Epilogue

End of Breaking Chaos

Thank you

Make an Author’s Day

About Grace Hamilton

Sneak Peek: Escaping Anarchy

Also By Grace Hamilton

BLURB

No power. No lights. A world in chaos…

When a Coronal Mass Ejection causes an EMP catastrophe that shuts down power worldwide, Melanie Pearson must embark on a dangerous journey to reunite with her husband and daughter. But to earn a spot in a secure fortress along the way, she agrees to help her boss find his own son first. And it quickly becomes clear she may have made a deal with the devil himself…

Meanwhile, her husband Mark vows to do whatever he can to protect their daughter Shona. There’s no way to turn the power back on, and their home town of Knoxville is quickly descending into chaos. His only goal is to find a way to get his family to safety.

As they struggle to come together, this fractured family must face off against a society gone mad. And when even greater tragedy strikes, they will need to find a new way to survive. But what is the cost of survival in a world on the brink of collapse?

1

His voice always preceded him, like the storm surge of a hurricane, a deep rumbling sound that hit just the right resonance to carry all the way down the hall and into the break room. Melanie Pearson was grateful for this. It meant she had time to brace herself for his arrival. And when Hurricane Derrick entered a room, it always brought trouble. Fortunately, it was a long walk from his big upstairs office at the back of the building to the break room where they’d had the Christmas party, and she’d left the door open.

“Sounds like a storm’s brewing,” Lizzy said. Currently, Melanie’s best friend was on her hands and knees, an open trash bag on the ground beside her. Melanie heard the soft clatter of plastic cups, as her friend dug party residue out from under the table.

“What does he possibly have to complain about now?” Melanie grumbled. She had a plastic grocery store bag in her left hand, and as she worked her way down the long counter, she picked up debris and tossed it into the bag. “We volunteered to clean up after the party on our own time.”

“Well, he didn’t have to have the party in the first place, let’s not forget,” Lizzy said, imitating Derrick’s voice as she strained to reach a corner where someone had dropped a paper plate with globs of red and green cake frosting still on it. “He’s just keeping the Platt family tradition alive.”

“Not without making sure we all know he resents it,” Melanie added.

The break room at Beaton’s Food Factory was a big, dingy space with ugly gray carpet that was frayed in spots, a big plastic table in the middle, a chipped counter, and a bulletin board covered in outdated information. Still, the employees had made a valiant effort to spruce up the place for the Christmas party. Red and green curled streamers hung down from the drop ceiling, a small Christmas tree stood at an angle in the corner, drooping with mismatched ornaments, and there’d been plenty to eat and drink, some of it halfway delicious.

Derrick’s voice had stopped somewhere down the hall, diverting into one of the offices along the way, where the boss seemed to be chewing someone out about “deadlines.” Good. Maybe he would forget about them long enough that they could finish cleaning and get out of there. Indeed, Melanie heard said office door close, the boss’s voice becoming muffled. Poor soul. Someone was really getting it now.

“Let’s pick up the pace,” Lizzy said. She was done under the table and folding up the stained paper tablecloths now. “There’s still time to get away without seeing his face again.”

But Melanie was trying to scrub away the dried residue of a sloppy casserole. “These people are such pigs,” she said. “How do you get this much of a dish onto the counter? Was it intentional?”

“Was it the ham and cheese casserole?” Lizzy asked. “The one Helen made. It was pretty good.”

“I can’t tell,” Melanie replied. “It dried like concrete, though.” She had to set down the rag and use the side of a metal fork to get some of it up. Even then, it was like chipping away old paint, and in the process, she left a small but notable scratch on the plastic countertop. Not that anyone would notice. She swept the crumbs into the bag, then turned to head back the other way.

When she did, she was startled by the person standing in the open doorway, totally silent and suddenly there. She hadn’t heard him approach. Nathan Platt, the boss’s son, was a gawky teen, awkward in his own body. He was wearing an oversized, faded t-shirt covered in comic book characters, and his pants were a bit too short, showing off his mismatched socks. His black hair mostly stuck straight up in a big, crooked poof, which accentuated a long, lean face, a somewhat prominent nose, and pointy chin.

Still, despite his awkward appearance, Nathan couldn’t have been more different from his father. At first, he was staring up at the streamers, which were dancing in the current from the air conditioner. However, he seemed to realize Melanie was looking at him after a couple of seconds, and he turned and gave her a big, earnest smile.

“I could…I could help clean, if you want,” he said.

“Are you actually offering to clean?” Lizzy said. “Do teens do that?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of boring out there,” he said. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

Melanie beckoned him, and he came trotting toward her. She held out the damp rag. “If you wouldn’t mind, finish wiping down the counter for me. I’m going to work on removing the streamers.”

He took the rag from her like she’d offered him a new toy for Christmas. “What do I do? Is there a trick to it?”

“No, just wipe in big circles until the whole counter is clean,” she said. “Can you do that?”

“Of course. Whatever you say.” He went to work, bent over the counter with a serious expression on his face. Again, Melanie marveled that this was Derrick’s kid.

She went to retrieve a small stepladder from the corner and used it to begin pulling the colored streamers down from the ceiling.

“So tell me, Nathan,” she said, as she reached up to grab the torn end of a loose green streamer. “Are you looking forward to Christmas?”

He paused in his work for a second, staring at the wall, and his serious expression seemed to dissolve into something sad. “I don’t know. I guess I should be. It’s a break from school, so that’s something.” And then he went back to his work.

“Does your family have plans?” Melanie asked. She wadded up the streamer and stuffed it into the bag. “A big dinner maybe?”

“Probably,” he said. “Or maybe just takeout of some kind, if any restaurants are open.” He glanced at her and attempted a smile. She could tell he was really struggling to make it stick.

For Melanie, it all hit a little close to home. Maybe home life wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. She tried to think of some other subject, anything to keep him engaged. Working in silence was uncomfortable. Lizzy was sweeping up crumbs from the table and filled in the conversation.

“What about Christmas presents?” she asked. “Every kid looks forward to presents. What are you hoping for? I don’t even know what fifteen-year-olds are into these days. Some app I’ve never heard of, probably, but you can’t put an app under the tree. Or maybe you can. I don’t know.”

“I don’t care about presents, really,” Nathan said, and Melanie noted he was slinging the rag just a little too hard onto the countertop. “I don’t want anything, to be honest. I mean, whatever…”

He bent over the sink, frowning deeply. An innocent attempt to engage him in conversation had clearly gone awry.

“Okay, I’ll be honest. I’m not looking forward to Christmas at all,” he said, as he resumed wiping a part of the counter that had already been thoroughly cleaned. “It’s going to be super uncomfortable. Mom and Dad got into a huge fight about some dumb thing Dad is doing, and everything is uncomfortable right now. I wish I had somewhere else to go over the break—school or camp or just about anywhere else.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Melanie said. “Do we need to…?” She was going to offer to change the subject, but she became aware then of the imposing form filling the doorway.

Somehow, Derrick Platt had managed to approach the end of the hallway without being heard, which was a rarity. He stood there now in his short-sleeved shirt and red tie, his thumbs hooked under his black leather belt. He was tall like his son, but that was where the similarities ended. With his jowly face, thick neck, and watery eyes, he looked a bit like a human-bulldog hybrid. A beer gut strained at the buttons of his shirt and hung over the top of a shiny brass belt buckle. His hair was slicked back with too much product, shiny and greasy in equal measure, which made his big ears seem even more prominent.

When he frowned, as he did now, creases ran from the corners of his mouth, framing his little bump of a chin. “Why don’t you ladies leave my boy alone and get back to work?” he said, in that rumbly voice of his.

“We never stopped working,” Lizzy pointed out. Melanie’s best friend was dwarfed beside the boss. Small, thin, with blondish hair tied back in a loose ponytail, she had a round face, bright blue eyes, and was prone to easy smiles. “Look at this.” She held up the big bag of trash in her right hand.

“I’m just helping out so the work will get done faster,” Nathan said. “Nobody forced me to do anything.”

“Yeah, well, this is not your job,” Derrick replied. “Why don’t you go back upstairs to my office and play a video game or something?”

“I played plenty of video games,” Nathan replied, bending over his work even more intensely. “I’ve got my phone with me, but it gets boring after a while just being up there by myself.”

“He’s not hurting anything,” Lizzy said.

“I didn’t say he was,” Derrick replied, “but I want him to stay out of the way. Nathan, get back upstairs. Now.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“Why does it matter?” Nathan replied. “I’m not bothering anybody.”

“You’re bothering me. Get upstairs. Now!” Derrick barked the final word. It hit just the right note to make Melanie’s ears hurt.

Nathan screwed up his face in a hateful scowl and flung the dirty rag into the sink. “Fine, Dad. Whatever! I’m actually doing something productive, but I’ll just go back up there and sit and do nothing.”

The poor kid seemed on the verge of tears, but Derrick was unmoved. He stepped to one side and motioned his son through the door. Nathan, his lower lip jutting out so far he could have tripped on it, stormed across the room and passed through the door without looking at his father. When he was gone, Derrick stepped back into the doorway and shook his head, as if to say, Kids these days.

“Do me a favor and don’t humor him,” Derrick said to Melanie and Lizzy, giving them a stern gaze. “He knows he’s not supposed to be wandering around the building.”

“Whatever you say,” Melanie replied, then ripped down another streamer and jammed it into the bag. Just go away and let us finish up. Oh, how badly she wanted to say it, but she bit her tongue.

“All right then,” Derrick said. “Finish up in here. This is taking too long.”

And with that, he sniffed loudly, turned, and left, his footfalls heavy as he worked his way back down the hall. The whole thing put Melanie in a foul mood. A kid dreading Christmas, not looking forward to presents, not wanting to go home. Oh, yes, she could relate to it all, and it sent her into a dark place. Lizzy must have noticed, because she rose suddenly and snapped her fingers.

“Chop, chop, Mel,” she said. “You heard the high overlord. Let’s get this done. You’re spacing out.”

“Sorry,” Melanie replied. She stepped down from the ladder and moved it over a few feet. “Our boss is such a jerk.”

“Yeah, maybe we should check on the kid before we leave the office today,” Lizzy said, tying the trash bag shut. “Just to make sure he’s okay.”

“Definitely,” Melanie said, as she pulled down the last streamer. She turned to survey their handiwork. The room was mostly clean. They’d managed to fill an entire thirty-gallon trash bag and two smaller grocery bags with the detritus of the Christmas party. “Looks like we’re about done here. What do you say?’

“I say, let’s get the heck out of Beaton’s and go home,” Lizzy replied.

And then, as if the building had heard and wanted to acknowledge her words, the lights went out. Suddenly, the break room was plunged into darkness. Melanie heard voices from down the hall reacting to the sudden darkness. The air conditioner wound down and came to a stop, and then everything went utterly still.

“Well, that’s weird,” Lizzy muttered. “Did we forget to pay the electric bill?”

“There’s not an actual storm brewing outside, is there?” Melanie asked. The closest window was through an open doorway in the reception area, and she could see sunlight shining on the wall. It wasn’t a cloudy day.

Just then, a harsh alarm began to blare throughout the building, as the backup generator kicked in. Security lights in the hallway awoke, casting red light over the walls and floor. They were meant to guide people out of the building in case of an emergency. Melanie felt the first flutter of unease.

“What the heck is going on?” she muttered.

She heard a low rumbling sound then. It trembled in the floor beneath her feet. It continued for a few seconds, then ended in a loud, low clank, as of metal hitting metal.

“I’m pretty sure those were the automated fire doors,” Lizzy said. “You know they close and lock in an emergency, right?”

The alarm was still squawking, making it hard to hear Lizzy. Melanie set the small bag of trash down on the table.

“Could there be a fire on the factory floor?” she wondered.

“I don’t smell burning snack cakes, so I’m guessing no,” Lizzy said. “Believe me, with my asthma, I’m real sensitive to smoke.”

Melanie looked down the hallway. People were poking their heads out of doors, but the harsh red light made it all look ominous. Derrick appeared at the end of the hallway, glaring at everyone in sight, as if every worker were personally to blame for the problem. He cupped his hands on either side of his mouth and began to shout loud enough to be heard over the alarm. With the timbre of his voice, this didn’t seem to take much effort.

“Ladies and gentlemen, everyone sit tight,” he trumpeted. “We’ve had a bit of a power outage here, but we’ll get it all sorted out. Just finish up whatever you were working on. There’s no reason to panic.”

A white-haired gentleman in overalls stepped out into the hallway. “Is power out in the whole area, or is it just us?” Stan Lipton was a shipping manager, and also had a more contentious and prickly relationship with the boss than most people—quite an accomplishment.

“Just finish up whatever you were working on, Stan,” Derrick said. “The problem will sort itself out soon enough.”

“So you don’t know, or you’re not going to tell us?” Stan replied.

“Stan, this isn’t question and answer time. Get back to work. I’ll figure out how to shut off this damned alarm.” And with that, Derrick turned and disappeared around the corner.

Stan glared after him for a second, then harrumphed loudly and went back into his office.

“If we’d finished cleaning a minute faster, we’d already be out of here,” Melanie grumbled. She’d left her purse on a shelf, and she went to retrieve it now. It was a small denim handbag, practically an antique, a birthday present she’d gotten from Lizzy’s mother when she was a teenager. Somehow, she’d held on to the thing all these years, and even when she bought new purses, she always went back to it. Her phone was tucked into a small pocket on the side.

“Blame the slobs who trashed the break room,” Lizzy said.

Melanie picked up the purse and pulled out her phone, intending to call home. Mark would at least be able to tell her whether this was a local problem or not. The factory was located almost thirty miles northwest of Knoxville. If the power was out at home, then it meant this was a widespread problem.

She unlocked the screen on her phone and held it up. One bar. That in itself was odd. She usually got a pretty strong signal on this end of the building. Melanie moved closer to the hallway and held up the phone, trying to get a second bar, but nothing changed.

Finally, she called her husband’s cell phone number. She held the phone to her ear and waited for it to ring, but instead, the phone made no sound at all for a few seconds, then the call dropped. She tried again and got the same result.

“Okay, Lizzy, this is getting weird,” she said, dialing his number a third time.

“Oh, it wasn’t weird already?” Lizzy replied.

“My phone is acting up.” When the third call was dropped, she decided to send Mark a text.

“Power’s out here. How are things at home?”

She sent it, then waited a few seconds for the checkmark to appear that would indicate it had been received, but it never appeared. After a moment, she got a little red exclamation point instead. She tried to send the text again and got the same result.

“Hey, Liz, can I borrow your phone for a second?” she said.

Lizzy reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out her phone, holding it up. “It’s dead,” she said. “The battery ran out during the party. I guess I filmed too many karaoke songs. Sorry. But I’ve got a charger out in my car.”

The flutter in Melanie’s belly became the first real stirrings of panic. Something about this whole situation was very wrong. This had to be more than just a power outage. Melanie jammed her phone back into its pocket, tucked her purse under her arm, and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Lizzy asked.

“To talk to Derrick,” she replied.

She strode down the hall. A few people were still staring out of their office doors, and when Melanie passed by, they fell in behind her, as if she had emboldened them. By the time she approached the end of the hall, she had half a dozen people following along behind her, including a grumbling Stan Lipton.

Around the corner, the hallway ran toward the far end of the building, but a set of stairs on the right led up to the second floor, where Derrick’s office was located. A window at the top of the stairs let late afternoon sunlight pour down into the building, cutting through the harsh red emergency lights.

About halfway down the hall, a second corridor branched off to the left. Normally, those doors gave access to the factory floor, but at the moment, a solid fire door had slammed down into place and blocked the way.

“I hope you’re going to give him a piece of your mind,” Stan Lipton said. “Nobody can work under these conditions. I’m getting a headache.”

Melanie glanced over her shoulder and saw that Stan and the others had fallen a few steps behind. So much for putting up a united front. She mounted the stairs. Halfway up, the harsh blaring of the alarm finally died, but the ugly red light kept shining. Derrick’s office was the first door at the top. It was open, and she could see the cluttered space beyond. He had the largest office in the building, but he’d managed to cover every shelf, counter, and square inch of desk space with stacks of manila folders, receipts, invoices, and other assorted paperwork. Nestled within the stacks on his desk was a keyboard and computer monitor.

As she stepped through the door, Derrick was peeking through the dusty curtains on a window behind his desk. Melanie expected to see Nathan somewhere in the room, but he wasn’t there. When the boss didn’t notice her arrival, Melanie loudly cleared her throat. This startled him, and he spun around, flinging the curtain back in place.

“What’s wrong with you?” he snarled. “Don’t you have more work to do? If you want information about this power outage, save your breath. I don’t know any more than you do.”

It was dim and gloomy in the office, most of the light coming from the hallway and not quite reaching every wall.

“Hey, boss, if this power outage is widespread, then we need to leave,” she said. “We have families to look after.”

“What, your family can’t handle a power outage?” he replied. He pulled his desk chair back and sat down, the padded faux-leather seat creaking under his weight. “I need you to finish up here before you go.”

“We’re off the clock,” she reminded him. “Lizzy and I offered to clean up after the party on our own time.”

“Fine, then, put yourself back on the clock,” he said, with a flip of his hand. “I guess money speaks louder than company loyalty for some people. I have one more job for you and your little sidekick, and then you can go. Take all of the extra stuff from the party—plates, cups, silverware, booze, whatever—and haul it down to the office supply closet. Get that done, and you can go.”

She knew him well enough to be annoyed by his request. It wasn’t a big job, but he was ordering it just so she would leave on his terms and not her own. That was his way. She was tempted to fight him on the issue, but what would that accomplish?

“Okay,” she said, after a moment. She turned and headed back downstairs. Stan and a few others were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, huddled together. She shrugged as she approached them.

“He doesn’t know anything?” Stan said.

Melanie shook her head, and the group scattered back to their offices, disappointed. Melanie was halfway down the hall when the lights came on again. The red lights gave way to harsh fluorescents. A ripple of surprise and relief went through the building, but it was short-lived. A couple of seconds later, the lights went out again, and the red emergency lights returned.

Lizzy was waiting in the break room, seated at the table. As Melanie entered the room, the overhead lights flashed on again. This time, it was even briefer, less than a second.

“It’s like the backup generator wants to work, but it just can’t,” Lizzy said.

“Come on. Derrick said to take this crap down to the supply closet, then we can get out of here,” Melanie replied, gesturing at the stacks of unused cups, plates, and silverware on the small handcart near the door. “I don’t like any of this, and work is the last place I want to be if something weird is going on.”

She checked her phone again. She had plenty of battery life left, but still just one bar. When she tried to send a text message again, she got the same exclamation point. Message failed to send. As she did that, Lizzy grabbed the unfinished bottles of alcohol and set them on the handcart.

It’s strange that the power went out when there’s no storm outside, she thought. What else could have knocked out power lines and cell towers?

It only took one person to push the handcart, but she was glad that Lizzy stuck around. As Melanie pushed the cart, Lizzy laid a hand against the top edge—as if she wanted to give the appearance that she was helping. Stan Lipton was standing just inside his office, glaring at an ancient flip phone in his hand, as if it had offended him.

“How can the phones be down?” he muttered. “Why doesn’t the boss know anything? What’s wrong with people? Is this whole building filled with idiots?”

The universe had no answers for Stan, and he was left to ponder in lonely silence as Melanie continued past his door. The lights flashed on again just as they reached the corner, struggling for a few seconds before shutting off again.

“This is creeping me out,” Lizzy said. “Is someone messing with us?”

“Not sure,” Melanie replied. “Maybe.”

There were actually two supply closets not far from the doors that led into the factory floor. They stood across from each other. Distracted, Melanie headed for the farthest one simply because it was already propped open with a rubber stopper. She pushed the handcart through the door. The bright red emergency light revealed rows of tall shelves stocked with bottles, cartons, and boxes of supplies. She kicked the stopper out from under the door in passing. As it swung shut, Lizzy caught it, then let it ease shut behind them.

“Do we have to put everything back on the shelves?” Lizzy asked. “Let’s just dump the cart and get out of here.”

“You know Derrick will check,” Melanie replied, as she unloaded the cups onto an open shelf. “I’m not going to give him a legitimate excuse to gripe. He’ll have to invent something.” She picked up a big plastic bottle of cheap vodka and set it on a lower shelf.

“So much leftover booze,” Lizzy said, picking up a green bottle of cheap champagne. “What a shame.”

“Who wants to get liquored up in the presence of Derrick Platt?” Melanie said. “That’s just asking for trouble. You have to watch what you say around him.”

Melanie was arranging bottles on the shelf when the lights flickered again. They didn’t come all the way on, and Melanie heard a faint buzzing sound in the walls, followed by a low click. She froze. Then she turned to Lizzy.

“That sound…?” she said.

And it occurred to her then what it might have been. She turned and rushed back to the closet door. The lights continued to flicker, as she grabbed the big silver handle. She turned the handle and pulled the door, just as she heard the bolt slam against the strike plate.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, pulling at the door again.

“What is it now?” Lizzy asked.

“Apparently, this stupid supply closet door is connected to the alarm system,” she said. “That means the lock is automated. And it just locked.”

“Is it going to unlock?” Lizzy said.

The flickering lights went out, leaving them in the harsh, ugly red. Melanie waited a second, but she didn’t hear the lock disengage. She gave it another pull, but it wouldn’t budge.

“I think we’re trapped in this stupid closet,” she said, kicking the door. She reached into her purse and pulled out the cell phone. Now she had no bars at all.

“It’ll unlock when the power comes back on,” Lizzy said. “Surely that won’t take too long.”

“Surely not,” Melanie echoed. She wanted to believe it, but she was feeling a deep disquiet now.

“Someone will figure out we’re stuck in here, right?”

“They won’t be able to undo the lock without the power coming back on or the generators deciding to work,” Melanie said. “Why would an office supply closet be connected to the alarm system?” she wondered aloud. “Is Derrick really that worried about people stealing paper clips and napkins?”

Lizzy sighed and sat down on the floor beside the handcart. She didn’t seem quite as bothered as Melanie. Mostly just annoyed.

“Well, if we have to be stuck somewhere for a little while, at least we’re in here with all of the booze,” Lizzy said, reaching back to the shelf and grabbing the bottle of champagne. “Relax. Have a drink, Mel. This’ll all be over soon.”

2

Melanie had zero patience for the situation. Only a few minutes had passed before she became stir-crazy. As Lizzy relaxed and sipped on the bottle of champagne, Melanie began to pace, trying to work off her restless energy. At one point, she thought she heard voices in the hall, and she pounded on the door. It was futile, of course. Even if they knew she was locked in the supply closet, they couldn’t do anything about it. They might be able to force the door, but that would require crowbarring the thing open. No way would Derrick be okay with that.

There was another option, but Melanie wasn’t ready to resort to that yet. It could also get her in quite a bit of trouble. So she paced, trying to stay calm, waiting for the power to come back on. The red light was harsh and unpleasant, so finally she fished around in her purse until she located a tiny LED flashlight in the bottom. She turned it on and aimed it at the door, running it back and forth from the top of the frame down to the floor.

“What are you looking for?” Lizzy asked. She was really going at the champagne. Melanie was tempted to tell her to stop, but she didn’t want to expend any energy on that right now.

“I’m looking for some kind of manual release,” Melanie replied. “Whoever designed the damned locks must have considered a scenario like this.” If such a thing existed, she saw no sign of it. On the contrary, the deadbolt had a keyed lock on the inside of the closet door. That, too, was odd.

Lizzy was muttering to herself, still sipping champagne. Melanie heard her say something like, “I don’t think it’s the right closet.” Melanie had to step back from the door and resume pacing. This was getting bad, and it was getting bad fast. She felt a very old but familiar feeling rising up inside of her, a shaky sort of panic. She clicked off the flashlight, put it back in her purse, and began furiously massaging her forehead. It didn’t help.

“Mel, are you okay?” Lizzy asked. “You know we’re going to be fine. They’ll get the power back on soon enough.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Melanie replied, but she wasn’t feeling it.

As the minutes passed, she began to feel the walls closing in, and the storage room seemed smaller and smaller until it began to merge in her mind with the sense memory of another closet, one much darker. A musty place that had smelled of mothballs, old clothes, dirty blankets. A closet behind a heavy wooden door all the way at the back of a hallway. She could practically hear the hum of the air conditioner intake on the other side of the door, a sound that muffled her voice so she couldn’t plead for mercy.

It was amazing how deeply embedded those experiences were. She rarely thought about them willingly, but on rare occasions when the memories returned, they were so vivid, it frightened her. It made the past seem far too close. She stretched her hands out just to make sure she couldn’t feel the dusty old clothes hanging on either side. For a second, she thought she felt cold metal buttons. That was the fur coat that hung near the wall, the one that smelled like a dried-up carcass. Melanie shuddered. Then she realized she was touching the metal frame of one of the shelves.

Once, Melanie had dared to ask her mother why she always got locked in the closet when she was in trouble. It’s so I can’t hit you, had been the reply. You only have to be in there a few minutes, so behave. But it had never been just a few minutes. No, they’d always forget about her. Sometimes for an hour. Sometimes for half a day. Sometimes they’d leave her in there overnight.

“I have to get out of here,” she said.

“We’re in the wrong supply closet.” That was Lizzy, and this time the words registered. “Mel, come back to reality. Are you listening to me?”

Melanie held up her hands, blinked a few times, and felt the memories dislodge. She wasn’t in the hall closet of her birth parents’ house. There was no hum of the air conditioner, no smell of mothballs and old clothes. Red light bathed everything. With a sigh of relief, she turned and saw her friend sitting on the floor beside the handcart, a bottle of champagne in her hands.

“Did you say something about the wrong supply closet?” Melanie asked.

“Look around.” Lizzy made a twirling gesture with her free hand.

Melanie looked at the shelves. She’d only given them a cursory glance on the way in. Plastic tubs and cardboard boxes lined the shelves, but this wasn’t the office supply closet. In her hurry, she’d chosen the open door. The storage closet across the hall was always locked, as far as Melanie knew. Indeed, she’d never seen the inside of it.

“We rushed and didn’t pay attention,” Liz said, “and we wound up in the wrong closet.”

“But why was the door open?” Melanie replied. “Someone had put a stopper in place.”

Liz shrugged. “I don’t know, but we’re not supposed to be in here. We don’t normally have access.”

“That red light threw me off,” Melanie said, approaching the nearest shelf. “What the heck does he keep in this place? There are a ton of shelves!”

When she looked in the first box on the shelf, she saw rolls of bandages. The second box contained medications in individual blister packs, like samples from a hospital. The third box contained a bunch of unused syringes with the safety caps still on.

“Okay, this is weird,” she said. “Why is all of this medical stuff here? It looks like Derrick looted a hospital.”

The shelf beneath contained a bunch of water bottles, some iodine tablets, and a bunch of camping supplies. Lizzy began looking around as well, and she pointed out a row of small diesel-powered generators on a low shelf near the back wall. Meanwhile, Melanie had worked her way to the end of the shelf and stepped around the corner, looking down a narrow gap between the shelf and the wall. She spotted a sturdy cabinet tucked into a space that made it impossible to spot from the door. A small window on the door revealed a row of rifles inside.

“Gun cabinet. Okay, I’ve seen enough,” she said. “Why is there a whole arsenal of weapons inside a food factory?” She approached the cabinet. “Maybe I’ll use one of these to blast my way out of here.”

Melanie grabbed the handle of the cabinet and tried to open it, but it was locked. She shook the door, but it felt sturdy. Lizzy came up behind her, peering at the cabinet over her shoulder.

“What possible reason could he have for storing so many guns here?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Melanie replied. “It’s like he was preparing for the end of the world. Being in this closet feels like we’re trapped in his warped mind. We have to get out of here.”

“Come take a look at the other shelves first,” Lizzy said, tugging on her sleeve.

Melanie turned and followed her across the storage closet to another set of shelves that were also tucked out of sight of the door. Here, rows of food bins contained MREs, freeze-dried food in pouches, and cans full of fruit, vegetables, and mystery meat. Melanie reached into one of the bins and scooped up fistfuls of small soup powder packages.

“Well, now we know why this closet is usually locked,” Lizzy said. “Derrick is some kind of prepper or something. He’s got enough food in here to last a couple of years.”

Weapons, medical supplies, generators, years’ worth of food. All of this stuff had been sitting in here right under their noses for…how long? Melanie suspected they would get in real trouble if Derrick learned they’d been in here.

She discovered a shelf containing tools, and she began rooting around in various tubs. It didn’t entirely surprise her to find a familiar set of small, thin tools in a leather pouch. She picked it up, opened the flap, and showed it to Lizzy.

“Maybe he’s not preparing for the end of the world,” she said. “Maybe he’s running some weird criminal enterprise here. Do you know what these are?” She pulled out one of the tools. It had what appeared to be a dull, thin blade with a serrated edge.

“I’ve never seen a tool like that,” Lizzy said.

“Of course not,” Melanie replied, sliding the tool back into the pouch. “Because you’re a decent, law-abiding citizen. These are lockpicking tools. What locks is Derrick planning to pick?”

“I don’t want to know,” Lizzy said. “I just want to go home and never come back to Beaton’s Food Factory.”

“Agreed. Let’s get out of here.” Melanie pulled the small flashlight out of her purse and handed it to Lizzy. “Take this. Shine it on the door for me.”

“No, Mel, wait,” Lizzy said. “What are you going to do?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she replied. “I’m going to use some of my old skills. After being locked in a closet about a thousand times as a child, I learned to pick locks. First, I learned to pick the closet door lock, then padlocks, and finally the front door of our house. Derrick did us the favor of providing the tools, so we’re going to take advantage of it.”

“Just don’t get caught,” Lizzy replied. “You know, today started off okay. I had the holidays to look forward to, the party to kill some time, and the food wasn’t bad, but now…”

“Yeah, I know.” With the lockpicking tools in hand, Melanie contemplated going back to the gun cabinet. If she was going to pick locks, maybe they should arm themselves. But, no, that was silly. They weren’t in physical danger. At most, Derrick would fire them for being in here, but then again, it was his own fault for leaving the closet door propped open. At this point, she felt just like Lizzy—she just wanted to go home.

Melanie went to the closet door and began pulling out the appropriate tools. Lizzy turned on the flashlight and shone it at the lock mechanism. The closet door was designed to allow a key on either side. Though it was connected to the factory alarm system, which was designed to engage the lock in an emergency, it otherwise seemed to be a standard keyed lock. Melanie had far more experience at picking these kinds of locks than anyone should have. She’d learned the skill simply to quell the lingering fear from her childhood, but now, at last, she had a chance to put it to good use.

She pulled out a pick and tension wrench and went to work on the lock. There was even a small tube of lock lubricant. Derrick was fully prepared! But prepared for what? What was he anticipating needing all of this stuff for? Melanie squirted lubricant into the lock and slid the tension wrench inside. She jiggled the wrench to determine which direction the key should turn. Once she’d figured that out, she inserted the pick and went to work feeling the outline of the pins.

“Should I be disturbed that you’re such an expert at this?” Lizzy said.

“Probably,” Melanie replied, as she slowly set the lock pins. The last thing she wanted to do was dredge up stories from her childhood. Lizzy knew enough. The rest of it was best kept buried. “Just cross your fingers and hope Derrick’s not lurking out in the hall.”

The lock gave a satisfying click. Melanie turned the handle, and the door popped open with a whoosh of air.

“Seems I still have the magic touch,” she said, sliding the lockpicking tools back into their pouch. “Let’s try to get out of here without running into Derrick, just in case he decides to be a jerk about us rooting around in his secret closet here.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lizzy replied.

As she eased the door open, Lizzy clicked off the flashlight. Melanie set the lockpicking tools on a nearby shelf, pushing them out of sight between two boxes. As she leaned through the open door, she strained to hear anything unusual, but the building seemed unusually quiet. Either the workers had gone home, or they’d hunkered down somewhere. Melanie slipped through the door, beckoning for Lizzy to follow.

In truth, something about this whole situation had set her nerves on edge. Maybe it was just the reminder of terrible things from her past. Derrick’s closet full of supplies was strange, but it wasn’t really that big of a deal, was it? Then again, years of mistreatment had given Melanie heightened sensitivity to bad situations, so maybe she was picking up on something that she couldn’t yet articulate. Either way, she wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible.

The hallway directly outside the door was empty. Straight ahead, she saw the other supply closet door. It was ajar, and she could see shelves stacked with office supplies. It was where they had intended to go in the first place. Lizzy had the smart idea to put the door stopper back in place, then she followed Melanie out into the hall.

“Where do we go now?” Lizzy asked.

“Back to the break room, through reception, and out of here,” Melanie replied, heading for the corner that led to the long hallway.

As she approached the corner, she heard footsteps coming down the hall. It was a familiar sound. Derrick had a distinctive walk. He tended to drag his heels, so that the sound was a kind of thump-scrape. She imagined he went through shoes faster than most people just by wearing through the soles. Melanie thrust her arm out to stop Lizzy and backed toward the office supply closet. Lizzy started to say something, but Melanie pressed a finger to her lips and pulled her back into the closet.

They waited as the footsteps grew louder. Suddenly, he appeared, leading with his gut. He had a cell phone pressed to his ear, and he stopped suddenly at the bottom of the stairs and spoke in a hushed voice.

“Yes, yes, everything is in place,” he said. He paused a moment, as if listening to someone, then blew his breath out. “No, it’s all under control… Well, you need to find him. I don’t care what you have to do. Get him and bring him back.” He looked over his shoulder, showing off the full glory of that jowly, bulldog face, then said, “No, I don’t know where he went. Do your job, and I’ll do mine.”

What the heck is he talking about? Melanie wondered. And who is he talking to? Just who is this guy?

Melanie liked to think she’d developed good instincts about people, and she’d always gotten a creepy vibe from Derrick. However, she’d chalked it up to him being a tyrannical boss and a jerk. Clearly there was more to the guy, though she couldn’t make sense of his phone conversation. No, she didn’t like this at all. She’d stepped into something she didn’t want to know about, and it was time to get out of it.

Derrick finally sighed and jammed the cell phone into his shirt pocket. Then he went upstairs. She waited until she heard him step into his office and shut the door, then she eased out of the office supply closet.

“Who was he talking to?” Lizzy asked.

“No idea,” Melanie replied. “Don’t want to know. Apparently, his cell phone works. Wish I could say the same for mine.”

“Let’s get out of this place forever,” Lizzy said. “I never liked Beaton’s, and our boss is a weirdo. I never should have left my job at United Grocery Outlet, even if the pay wasn’t as good. At least my supervisor there wasn’t hoarding end-of-the-world supplies.”

“I just miss the previous boss,” Melanie said. “Derrick’s father was a lot easier to deal with. I never got creepy vibes off him.”

“You know, we haven’t tried using one of the office phones,” Lizzy said. “Maybe they work. We could at least call home and let our families know we’re okay.”

“It’s worth a try,” Melanie replied. “Let’s try Stan Lipton’s office.”

As she crept toward the hallway, she felt a familiar surge of anxiety. It went through her in a rush, tingling all the way to her extremities in an uncomfortable way. There was something bad about this whole situation, she was more certain of that now, even though she still couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

It’s your childhood paranoia, he told herself. Calm down.

Either way, she couldn’t wait to get out of this building, out of Derrick’s business, and back to her family.

3

Dull, glassy-eyed looks—that was never a good sign. The kids in the back row of Mark’s classroom had checked out long ago. One of them had spent the entire class period doodling in a notebook. Another was surreptitiously reading a Stephen King novel from the school library—a novel as thick as a dictionary—trying to hide it by holding it close to the student seated in front of him. Even the students who were normally attentive in the class appeared to be struggling. His straight-A student in the front row, a chipper girl named Ciara who always dressed smartly and listened to lectures with a smile on her face, seemed to be half-asleep.

Well, I guess Planck’s constant isn’t the most electrifying subject for high schoolers, he thought, smirking at his mental pun. Still, he always felt responsible when he failed to make a subject interesting. It didn’t help that he wasn’t particularly interested in the subject himself. He much preferred talking about the solar system. That was his real area of passion, but he didn’t get to decide what was emphasized in the curriculum.

“Anyway, that’s what we mean when we talk about the quantum of electromagnetic action,” he said. “It links a photon’s energy with the frequency of the electromagnetic wave. Remember, it is denoted as h-bar. If you’re not quite getting it, you can read chapter eleven in your textbook. There will be a quiz when we get back from break.”

This caused a few groans and eye rolls. Even Ciara rocked her head from side to side, causing her long braids to sway like pendulums.

“Okay, okay,” Mark said, holding up his hands. “I know nobody likes a quiz, but at least I gave you fair warning.”

Just then, the final bell rang, signaling both the end of class and the end of the school day. Students immediately began to scramble, stuffing notebooks, pens, and Chromebooks into clear plastic backpacks.

“You guys get out of here,” Mark said, swiping a hand in the air. “You’re free.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Students began rushing for the door, jostling each other in the narrow aisles. While most of the students seemed relieved to be done, Ciara pulled a face—lips pursed, eyes narrowed—that made her seem disappointed in him. Somehow, this stung the most. He hated when a lecture went bad, but her look seemed to say, I expected better of you, Mr. Pearson. She rose from her desk, put her backpack over her shoulders, and marched sullenly out of the room without looking at him.

Every class lecture doesn’t have to be a home run, he reminded himself. So Planck’s constant is boring? So what? They’ll live.

Still, he hated ending a school day on a down note. He hit the button to clear his diagrams off the smartboard and went to his desk to begin gathering his things. Like the students, he just wanted to go home. He could try again after the break.

He grabbed a small plastic briefcase from under the desk and set it on top, then began shoveling his books and papers inside. A small framed photograph of his wife and daughter sat on a corner of the desk. He liked to keep them somewhere visible when he was working. Melanie, with her short black hair, her big green eyes, the slight smile that always seemed full of mischief, and his daughter, Shona, who looked like her mother but kept her hair long and wavy. Shona was actually a student in the same high school, but he didn’t teach any of her classes.

By the time he was finished packing up, the room was empty. A few stray papers had been left behind, as always, but in his current mood, he decided to let the custodial staff handle it. He picked up the briefcase and headed out of the room. As he often did, even in warm weather, he was wearing a light jacket, and he reached into the pocket now to retrieve his cell phone, which he had kept off while he was teaching.

As he made his way through the crowded hallway, he turned on the phone and waited a few seconds for it to boot up. Suddenly, it began to vibrate like crazy in his hand. A series of notifications popped up on the screen. Someone had been sending him a heck of a lot of messages. It took a second to swipe through the notifications to get to the actual messages. As always, his first concern was Melanie. Accidents at Beaton’s were rare but not unheard of, and the possibility always lurked in the back of his mind. But he knew if there were a true emergency, someone would have called the school’s office and had him paged.

The messages were not from Melanie. All of these messages were from his science group. A loose collection of fellow science teachers and researchers, the group text had been going for years, picking up steam any time something significant relevant to their fields of study happened. It looked like they’d really been going at it for the last several minutes. Something major must have just happened.

Must be some new scientific breakthrough, Mark thought.

But the first message he opened killed that thought. It was from his old friend Bill Rigg who taught astronomy at the University of Tennessee.

CME imminent, it read. The leading edge is already hitting us. Should begin seeing the effects very soon, but it will peak within the hour. Not a joke. Check the news for confirmation. Get to your loved ones ASAP. This one is going to be really bad, folks. Historic.

Mark went instantly cold. A coronal mass ejection on the scale Bill hinted at was one of those nightmare scenarios you occasionally talked about, that you accepted as a possibility, but you never actually expected. Seeing it there in stark black letters on his phone, a warning from a trusted friend and an incredibly smart man, caused a sudden trembling fear. Mark didn’t bother reading any of the other messages. He didn’t bother confirming the news. He knew his friend was not the type to play around, and the sheer number of responses, many of them written in all caps, told him everything he needed to know.

He shoved the phone back in his jacket pocket, tightened his grip on the briefcase, and hurried down the hall. His daughter had a club meeting after school. He would have to get her and immediately race home to Melanie.

Should I warn these people? he wondered, looking at all the students and staff crowding the hall.

But how would he do it? Maybe he could try to commandeer the intercom system, but would anyone listen to him? A few might panic; most would just be confused. No, sadly, Mark knew he couldn’t do anything right now but focus on his family.

As he turned a corner and headed for his daughter’s classroom, he saw his boss coming toward him. Principal Jon Rogers was an imposing figure with a sharp, severe face and a nose like a hawk’s beak. Students parted before him like the Red Sea before Moses.

“Mark,” Jon said, pointing at him. “You’re going the wrong way. The conference is room is back behind you.”

Mark didn’t want to shout past the students, so he waited until they were closer to reply, “I’m just headed down the hall here to get my daughter. We’re in a bit of a rush.”

“We’re supposed to go over end of the year details,” Jon said, “and make plans for starting up again after the holidays. Surely you already know about this. It’s on the shared calendar.”

Mark stepped in front of him, forcing the principal to come to a stop. How much did he dare say right now? He felt a moment of uncertainty. He was ill-prepared for it, and he bit his lower lip so hard he grunted in pain.

“Listen to me, Jon,” he said, fighting to maintain an even tone. Jon must have heard something in his voice, because his eyebrows rose. “I’m going home now, and you should too. I don’t have time to explain. Check the news if you want an explanation, but cancel the meeting and go home.”

And with that, he stepped past the principal and kept going. However, when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Jon looking at his cell phone and reading what he hoped was the news. Fortunately, students were quickly scattering, and by the time Mark reached Shona’s classroom at the end of the hall, the school was mostly cleared out. The next time he looked back, Principal Rogers was gone.

His daughter was a member of a Japanese language club. She’d wanted to take it as a class for her foreign language credit, but the school didn’t offer it. However, there was a student club led by a math teacher named Mrs. Nakamura. Mark could see her through the window on the door. Apparently, the club was having an end-of-the-year Christmas party. On the blackboard behind her, he saw a phrase in Japanese he couldn’t read. Mrs. Nakamura was holding up a beautiful little white cake with strawberries on top, and all of the students were standing around and chatting.

He felt bad breaking up the party, but he was already wasting time. Mere minutes! What if it was too late? He barged into the classroom, looking for his daughter. She was in the back of the room, ladling pink Christmas punch into individual Solo cups.

“Mark?” the teacher said. “Are you going to join us for the party?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said. “Actually, everyone should go home right now.”

As he said it, he marched across the room, making a beeline for his daughter. She saw him coming and grimaced, flushing a bright red. Shona had a bit of social anxiety. If there was anything she hated, it was having negative attention drawn to her. All of the students had gone quiet, staring at Mark as he moved across the room. Mrs. Nakamura set the cake on her desk.

“Dad, what are you doing?” Shona said in a little squeak, holding up her hands to hide her face.

“It’ll only be another thirty minutes or so,” Mrs. Nakamura said. “We’re learning some Christmas and holiday-themed words, and we’re enjoying some traditional snacks and holiday foods.”

Mark was fighting to keep full-blown panic at bay, but he knew he would catch grief from his daughter for his intrusion. As long as he got her home in time, it would be worth it. He snapped his fingers at her.

“Shona, we have to go right now,” he said. “Get your things together. Come on. We’re in a hurry. It’s an emergency.”

When she didn’t move, he looked for her backpack. It was a small backpack, clear like all of the others but with some pink flowers painted on it. He spotted it on a desk against the wall, and he went to retrieve it. He picked it up, but Shona still hadn’t moved.

“I’m sorry. Look, we have to go,” he said, grabbing her arm.

He tugged at her gently. She resisted at first, then finally began to stumble after him. “Dad, stop it,” she said. “What’s wrong with you?”

As he led her back across the classroom, he saw Mrs. Nakamura staring at them with a look of pity on her face. Some of the students were smiling or laughing, others gaping in shock. It was clear to him that he’d caused a big scene, and Shona would make him pay for it, but he had no choice.

“All of you should go home,” he said. “If you have your phones, look at the news. You’ll understand.”

And with that, he left the classroom, released his hold on Shona’s arm, and thrust the backpack at her.

“What’s your problem?” she said in an angry hiss. “Are you trying to embarrass me in front of all my friends?”

“No, not at all,” he replied. When she didn’t immediately take the backpack, he pressed it against her. “I’ll explain everything when we’re on the way home.”

Finally, with a furious scowl, she wrapped her arms around the backpack. “This is the worst,” she said. “I can’t believe you. Are you out of your mind? Everyone’s laughing at me.”

He beckoned her as he hurried down the hall toward the nearest exit. Indeed, most of the students who lingered in the hall were staring at them.

I wasn’t that loud, was I?

“Dad, why are you acting like this?” Shona said, her voice beginning to quaver. “Did something happen to Mom? Is that it?”

“No, not yet,” he replied. A loud conversation had broken out in the Japanese club behind him. Maybe someone had looked at the news. He hoped so.

He hit the crash bar and flung open the exit door, ushering his daughter through. Her embarrassment and anger were giving way to fear. She looked at him with wide, anxious eyes, hugging her backpack tightly.

“I don’t get it,” she said as she hurried to follow him. “You’re acting crazy. What’s on the news? What’s happening?”

“We just have to go home,” he replied. “I’ll explain on the way. Trust me, you’ll understand soon enough.”

His little two-door Volkswagen Jetta was parked in the staff parking lot just across a small lawn. He dug his keys out of his pocket as he rushed toward it. Shona kept pace with him, but he could tell she wanted to keep ranting. By the time they climbed into the car, she had sunk into a tense, brooding silence. If this didn’t turn out to be a real emergency, he was going to have a lot of work ahead of him to patch things up with his daughter.

Maybe I should have handled it differently, he thought. Then again, he’d gotten her out of the building about as fast as he possibly could have. Under the circumstances, it was worth whatever lingering resentment she would hold.

He started the car and backed out of the parking space. As he did, he heard the squeal of brakes from the nearby road. Checking the rearview mirror, he noticed that some other cars were in a big hurry, rushing out of the student pickup line so fast, they were almost hitting each other. One parent was leaning out of the driver side window and frantically beckoning a student who was running across the school lawn. Apparently, word of the CME was getting out.

Shona was staring out of the passenger side window, her backpack in her lap. She seemed to notice the other cars frantically rushing away from the school, and she finally settled back in her seat. All of the anger seemed to disappear, leaving only a look of concern. Mark spotted a gap in the vehicles on the street and whipped the Jetta out of the parking lot to fill it before someone else could. This shoved Shona against the door, and she uttered a little squeal of fear.

“Is Mom still at work?” she said.

“Probably,” he replied. “I’d better call her and tell her to get home right away.”

“I’m scared,” Shona said, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Let me call your mom, and then I’ll explain,” he said, fumbling to pull up her name on his phone without taking his eyes off the road.

4

Stan Lipton’s office door was closed and locked, and when Melanie pressed her ear to it, she no longer heard him asking the universe questions on the other side. Either he had left the building, or he was huddling in another room. She paused a moment, the hallway around her still bathed in red light, and considered her options. There were other offices in the hallway, of course, and she could hear people in some of them. However, only a few had landline phones. The shipping manager was one. Derrick Platt was another.

“I hate the idea of using Derrick’s phone, but what if it’s the only other option?” she said. She didn’t want to go up to his office. She still felt a weird anxiety, like she was going to get in trouble for it, even though she hadn’t done anything wrong.

Lizzy leaned in close to the door. “Maybe Stanley’s hiding in there, waiting for the red lights to go away. Should we force the door? I’d rather do that than go up and ask Derrick if we can use his phone.”

But Melanie thought of her family again. Where were Mark and Shona? Had the power outage affected them? Knowing they were safe and sound would be worth another encounter with Derrick Platt, no matter how weird he’d been acting.

You’re not in trouble with Derrick, she told herself. He’s not your birth mother, okay? Quit dragging childhood fears into present circumstances.

“Come on,” she said, beckoning Lizzy as she started back down the hall. “We’re borrowing the boss’s phone, and that’s all there is to it.”

She rounded the corner and approached the stairs. As she passed the side hall, she saw the open door into the supply closet. They’d left it propped open, and she could see the rows of cardboard boxes on the shelves nearest the door—she knew now that they contained an entire clinic’s worth of medical supplies. She felt creeped out all over again, but she made herself continue up the stairs. However, just to be sure this was necessary, she pulled her phone out again and glanced at the screen. No bars.

“Why not just leave and meet them at the house?” Lizzy asked, following a few steps behind.

“Because it’s a fifteen-minute drive through rush hour traffic on I-75 to get to the house,” Melanie said. “I want to know what’s going on at home. Otherwise, I’ll worry all the way there, especially with my cell phone service out.”

“Maybe someone has a power cord I can borrow to charge my phone,” Lizzy said, and then, in a hushed voice, she added, “That’s better than being in the same room with the boss. I don’t feel comfortable around him right now.”

Melanie tapped her head. “Power’s out, remember? A power cord won’t work. It’ll be fine, let’s just get this over with.”

She reached the top step and glanced down the upper hallway. It was quiet up here, quieter than usual without the AC blasting. Derrick’s office door was wide open, revealing mountains of paperwork and mess, a dingy couch against the far wall, and a filing cabinet rising from the piles like a strange post-apocalyptic plant.

No sign of Derrick Platt. She didn’t hear his strange shuffle step or his deep muttering voice. Slowly, she eased toward his office door and poked her head through. The boss wasn’t there. She waited a second just to make sure he wasn’t going to pop up from behind a pile of papers, then she stepped through the door.

“You figure he’s on the factory floor?” Lizzy asked, following her into the office.

“The production lines weren’t running when the power went off,” Melanie noted. “I don’t know what he’d be doing out there. Let’s just make our calls and get out of here.”

The landline was mounted on the wall near his desk, an off-white corded phone that looked like a fossil from the 90s. It had belonged the Derrick’s father, the former boss of Beaton’s and a better man in every way. As Melanie approached the desk, she noticed something else that might be useful: a flat, rectangular disk with a little red light shining in the corner.

“Liz, I’m pretty sure that’s a wireless charging pad,” she said, pointing at it. “Battery operated, too. See if you can get your cell phone working.”

Lizzy grimaced and looked over her shoulder. Clearly, she didn’t want to be in here, but she nodded and approached the desk, pulling her phone out of the pocket of her jacket. She set it on the wireless charger. As she did that, Melanie went to the landline. She noted that Derrick’s suit vest, the ugly brown one that he always wore to work, was hanging on the back of his chair.

Suddenly, she had the unnerving idea that he was in the supply closet, that somehow he’d discovered their intrusion, and he was checking over his secret supplies, making sure everything was in order.

“You know, we left the handcart in the supply closet with all the party leftovers on it,” she noted.

“See? This is why we need to get out of here,” Lizzy replied.

As Melanie picked up the phone receiver, she glanced through an opening in the dusty curtains. Derrick’s upstairs office window gave an expansive view across a side parking lot, beyond the surrounding security wall, to a broad field and a distant shopping center. She saw strange lights flickering in the distance, brighter than the late afternoon sunlight. Those weren’t electrical lights. And then she realized what she was seeing—fires burning in multiple places. One of them seemed especially big, as if someone had set a bonfire at a corner of the shopping center. She could see people scrambling about in the parking lot.

“The city’s burning,” she said, heart racing.

Lizzy rushed over beside her and flung the curtains apart. “Oh, my gosh, Mel. There are like four different fires out there. Look at that! What could’ve caused it?”

“Maybe a plane crash?” Melanie replied. It was the only thing she could think of. “If a big plane crashed, it would start fires and knock out the power too.”

“I don’t see any signs of a plane crash, other than the fires,” Lizzy said. “There would be wreckage and debris of trees or buildings or whatever else it crashed into.”

“I don’t know. It was just an idea. Maybe a transformer blew or something. That would knock out the power.”

Melanie forced herself to turn away from the window. She pressed a line-out button before dialing their home phone number. It seemed like the safest bet. The phone began to ring—the landline at home was working. This simple fact caused an intense feeling of elation that surprised Melanie. Finally, something in this whole situation was acting the way it was supposed to!

However, as she was listening to her home phone ringing, something seemed to awaken in her purse. She felt a desperate buzzing and thrashing, as if some angry little animal had gotten in there. Melanie dug into the side pocket and withdrew her cell phone. When she turned the screen on, she saw about a million notifications going off.

At that same moment, Lizzy’s phone began to buzz and dance on the charging station. It had apparently regained just enough power to turn on, and it awoke to notifications as well. Lizzy dove for her phone, knocking over a stack of old voided invoices in the process, which cascaded onto the floor behind the desk. Melanie scarcely noticed as she stared at her cell phone screen. Most of the notifications were text messages, but one of them was not. One of the messages stood out—a message from the Presidential Emergency Alert System, which stood in a box all its own. Melanie had just enough time to read the first line: National curfew to take effect immediately.

She felt a jolt. Suddenly, the scale of their problem had increased exponentially, but before it truly sank in, the message was wiped off her screen by an incoming call, and it took her a split second to realize it was coming from her husband, Mark. The landline receiver slipped from Melanie’s hand, swung down, and banged off the wall. Fortunately, Lizzy stooped down to pick it up and put it back in its cradle, as Melanie answered the call and pressed the cell phone to her ear.

“Mel! Mel! You answered! Thank God.”

Melanie felt the sting of tears and quickly brushed them away.

“Mark, I can’t believe you got through,” she said. “I haven’t been able to send a call or message. What is going on?”

“I just got your messages,” he replied. “Hon, are you okay? Where are you?”

“It’s crazy here. I can’t figure out what’s going on.”

They were speaking over each other, and Melanie had to pause and take a breath before continuing. Reception on the phone wasn’t great. It sounded like he was speaking through a wall of crackling static. Still, she could understand him. Just then, the fluorescent lights overhead flickered on again, and the red emergency lights went out. It seemed like confirmation that the emergency was almost over.

“I’m still at work,” she said. “Everything’s a mess right now. I was just about to head home, but I wanted to try to call you one more time. Anyway, it looks like the lights just came back on, so I guess we’re fine now.”

“Listen to me,” he said. He sounded frantic, out of breath. “They might be able to restore partial power for the time being, but it’s going to get worse. We have an hour tops before everything dies again, and when the power finally dies, it’s not coming back for a long time—if ever. Do you understand, Mel?”

“Mark, what happened?” she asked. Her hand was trembling, causing the phone to tap against her ear. “What caused this?”

“It’s a solar event,” he said, his voice fading in and out. “Some of my colleagues had a few extra minutes’ warning, but there’s nothing anyone can do about it. This is huge. Bill Rigg called it historic.”

Melanie suddenly recalled Derrick’s words when she’d been standing in the supply closet doorway. He hadn’t seemed alarmed by the power loss. If anything, he’d spoken with confidence. “Everything is under control,” he’d said. Melanie entertained the wild notion that somehow Derrick Platt had known the solar event was incoming, that he’d been planning for just such an event for a very long time. It would explain the closet full of food, medical supplies, generators, and guns.

“What are we supposed to do in this situation?” Melanie asked.

“Just get home as soon as possible,” he replied. “We’ll be safer there, and we can plan our next move together. Listen to me, hon. I can’t emphasize this enough. As a scientist, I’m telling you, this is about as bad as it gets.”

She’d never heard him like this. He was speaking in a blur, tripping over his own words, and he sounded like he was out of breath. Her husband, normally so calm, cool, and collected, was terrified. They’d been through some hard times together. She knew what he sounded like when he was stressed out. This was something else altogether. And if he sounded this bad, he probably felt a hundred times worse. Just then, the fluorescent lights went out again, and the red emergency lights began to shine once again.

“I’m leaving now,” she said.

“Listen, it’s possible your car won’t start,” he said. “You’ve got a newer-model Accord. The solar event might have damaged the electrical system. Catch a ride with someone who has an older vehicle. What about Lizzy? Doesn’t she have the old Grand Am?”

“Yeah, I’ll try that,” Melanie said. “Is Shona with you? Let me talk to her.”

“She’s right here,” he replied. “Hang on.”

She heard some shuffling noises, and then her daughter spoke in a squeaky little voice.

“Mom! Where are you? Everyone is going crazy!”

“I’m at work, but I’ll meet you at home really soon,” Melanie replied. “Listen to me, Shona. I need you to stay calm and do whatever your father tells you, okay?”

“I’m being calm,” Shona said. “Everyone’s driving like crazy out here. They’re making me nervous.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Melanie said. “I’m leaving work right now.”

But then the call dropped. Melanie was tempted to call them again. I forgot to say “I love you.” What if I don’t get another chance? She chided herself for even allowing such an awful thought, shoving the cell phone back into its pocket. Behind her, Lizzy was having some kind of frantic conversation on her phone.

“It’s a real government warning,” she said. “Not a hoax. They can’t send out hoaxes on the presidential warning system, Dad. This is for real. You have to talk slower. The connection is horrible. You’re all fuzzy.” She was pacing in a small clear space in front of Derrick’s desk, anxiously flapping her free hand as she spoke. “Melanie is here with me. Yeah, we’re fine.” She made eye contact with Melanie and grimaced. “She’s going to head home, Dad. Yeah, I’m leaving here right away. I’ll be home in a few minutes. Lock the doors and stay inside, okay? Don’t go out there…No, not even to the grocery store. Wait until I get home. Okay, love you.” She pulled the phone away from her ear, stared at the screen, then shoved it back into her pocket.

“At least we got through,” Melanie said.

Lizzy turned to her, grimacing. “Dad doesn’t want to believe it’s real. I hope Mom talks some sense into him. He was actually going to walk down the street to Kroger for bread and milk. Can you believe that?”

“Yeah, that sounds like him.” Melanie had to smile, despite herself. Lizzy’s parents had become a second family to her, and she knew their quirks all too well. “We’d better get out of here.”

“My purse is in my locker,” Lizzy said. “I didn’t want to leave it lying around during the party. I didn’t think about it until just now, but the fire door is shut. I don’t even know if I can get into the locker room. Can we force the fire door open?”

“No idea,” Melanie replied, but her gaze happened to flit across the surface of the desk, and again she saw the big key ring tucked into a gap between stacks of papers. About two dozen keys attached to a large Swiss Army knife. Surely one of them was the key to Derrick’s pickup truck. Her instincts kicked in, and she reached for the keys before her better sense stopped her. However, Lizzy realized what she was going for.

“No way are we about to steal the boss’s truck,” she said, with an anxious laugh. “Just use your mad lockpicking skills and hot-wire my Grand Am. I don’t care about the damage. I just want to get home.” When Melanie hesitated, she added, “We both know you can hot-wire a car, Mel.”

“The last time I did that was a long time ago,” Melanie replied. Again she reached for the boss’s keys, and again she stopped herself. So they could try to get through the fire door to the locker room, try to hot-wire Lizzy’s car, or steal the boss’s pickup truck. Those were the options, and Melanie didn’t want to stand there and debate the matter. She was desperate to get home.

She glanced around the office. The whole building had gone utterly quiet. Had the other employees already left? She assumed so. And what about Nathan, the boss’s son? Where had he gone? It wasn’t as if the kid could drive himself home. Derrick had ordered him back to the office, but clearly, he’d gone somewhere else.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Melanie said, her hand still poised halfway toward the boss’s keys.

The words were still sort of hovering in the air when she happened to turn slightly and notice the vast shape filling the open doorway. Somehow, he had approached the open office door without being heard. Normally, his heavy footfalls gave him away. How had he crept up on them? Melanie’s heart leapt into her throat.

“What are you two doing in my office?” he said, practically barking the words. His bulldog face looked monstrous in the red light, and his eyes were locked onto Melanie. Had he seen her reaching for the keys? “I didn’t give you permission to be in here. Feel free to explain yourselves before I get really, really pissed off.”

5

For a few tense seconds, they just stared at each other, and Melanie felt like she was twelve years old all over again, caught sneaking some meager bit of food from the pantry. As a child, it had always been a fierce internal battle between running away or furiously lying to try to cover for herself. In this situation, she managed to meet his gaze and not wither, which was an accomplishment in itself.

“We were trying to call our families,” Lizzy said finally, in a sharp voice. “You have one of the only landline phones in the building. We would have asked for your permission, but you disappeared all of a sudden. We thought maybe you went home.”

“No, I didn’t go home,” he replied, his voice softening. Lizzy’s excuse seemed to work, and he stepped into the office.

“Are you aware of what’s going on out there?” Lizzy asked.

Melanie couldn’t bring herself to speak for the moment, as she wrestled with the vestiges of old guilt and fear. It was stupid, of course. She wasn’t a twelve-year-old stealing food. She was a wife and mother trying to get home to her loved ones.

“Of course I’m aware of it,” Derrick said, approaching his desk. He swiped his big key ring off the desk and brushed past Melanie to grab his vest off the chair. “I know all about it, in fact. Did you guys have to dump a bunch of papers on the floor back here? Thanks for that. As if this office wasn’t already messy enough.”

“It was an accident,” Lizzy said. “There are a lot of precarious stacks in here. That’s not our fault.”

But Melanie didn’t care about the papers. Something he’d just said pulled her suddenly and immediately out of the past. “Wait, did you just say you know all about it?”

“Everyone knows about it by now,” Derrick replied, putting his vest on. “You’ve seen the emergency messages. It’s not like it’s a secret anymore.”

“Boss, did you know something about this before everyone else?” Lizzy said. “When we were cleaning up after the party, did you already know this was going to happen? I think it’s only fair to share what you know. Poor Stan Lipton was just about frantic, and nobody would provide him any answers.”

“Stan Lipton is always frantic,” Derrick grumbled, shoving his big, jangling key ring into his vest pocket. “Don’t worry about what I know and don’t know. Just get your stuff and go. Head home.” But something was wrong with Derrick. He wasn’t his usual thundering self. Something seemed to have deflated him. He zipped up his vest halfway, adjusted his red tie, and headed for the door.

“What did you know?” Melanie blurted. “And how did you know it?”

Derrick froze in the door. He lingered for a second, as if debating with himself about what to do next. Then he grunted unhappily and turned back around.

“Well, I got a message warning me about an incoming coronal mass ejection a few minutes before it happened,” he said. “There wasn’t anything I could do about it, and I didn’t want to cause panic, so I didn’t say anything. Plus, I didn’t know how bad it was going to be. It’s hard to predict these sorts of things.”

“Do you have some kind of inside connection somewhere that warns you about such things?” Melanie asked. She was sorely tempted to ask about the supply closet, but something made her hesitate. He still didn’t know they were aware of what he had in there.

“If you’re talking about secret government contacts, then no,” he said. “I have friends who keep an eye on relevant global events, that’s all. You two seem awfully suspicious of me, for some reason. What’s going on? Did I do something?” He looked at Melanie sharply for a moment, then at Lizzy, his bulldog face taking on that furious intensity.

Melanie still wasn’t going to say anything, but Lizzy shuffled her feet for a second and blurted out, “We went into the wrong supply closet, and when the door shut behind us, the auto-lock set, and we got stuck in there for a few minutes.”

Melanie tensed, expecting a furious response, but Derrick just shook his head. The heat seemed to leave his voice, as he said, “Oh, is that what this is all about? Yeah, the auto-lock is a safety feature for when the power goes out. How did you manage to get out?”

“The door popped open when the power blinked on again for a few seconds,” Melanie said quickly, so Lizzy couldn’t tell him the truth.

“Oh?” Derrick looked at her blandly. She couldn’t read his expression. “Well, the stuff in that closet isn’t a big deal, and it’s not some secret, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve always liked to be prepared for worst-case scenarios. Like the one we’re dealing with right now. Got it?”

Lizzy gave a sigh of relief, but Melanie didn’t feel the same. Somehow, Derrick’s explanation didn’t assuage her feelings about him.

“Your family owns this place,” Melanie said. “I guess you can store whatever you want in the extra closet space. It’s none of my business. We’re just headed home.”

“Fine,” Derrick said. He turned again, as if to leave, but he hesitated. “You two didn’t happen to see Nathan earlier, did you? Like, when you were taking the party supplies down to the closet, did you see him lurking about anywhere?” And did Derrick Platt sound genuinely anxious for his missing son? Melanie thought so. Wonder of wonders.

“No, we didn’t see him,” Lizzy said. “Actually, we sort of wondered why he wasn’t in here.”

Derrick nodded slowly, as if his suspicion had been confirmed. Then he turned to face them again. “He ran away after our argument. I just wanted him to stay put, but I guess he got his feelings hurt. That darn kid is too much like his mother. I’ve looked all over the building for him. Seems he went outside somewhere.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Lizzy said. “He’s a good kid.”

Derrick scratched at his soft, whiskery chin for a second. “Look, I’m going to level with you two, okay? You want to know everything? Here it is.” He gestured toward the window. “The power’s not coming back on. Ever. This solar activity has already done extensive damage to the power grid, and it’s only going to intensify. We’re talking about a massive shock wave of plasma that can disrupt the entire magnetosphere, okay? All kinds of electronics are being irreparably fried as we speak. It’s unfixable. Do you hear me?”

It explained the panic in Mark’s voice. Her husband would have known this information, especially with his connections in the scientific community.

“Things are bad out there, but they’re about to get a heck of a lot worse,” Derrick continued. She’d never seen the man look so shaken, so grave. “What’s the first thing that happens when there’s a large-scale calamity?”

“Looting,” Lizzy said.

“Exactly,” Derrick replied. “Now, imagine a large-scale calamity that never ends. Looting, rioting, people turning on each other. I’ve been reading about this kind of stuff for years. I knew something like this was inevitable. It’s why I was prepared. This factory is secure, okay? That’s the reason for the security system, and that’s the reason for the auto-locks. This is a flippin’ fortress here. It’s safe. But if Nathan is outside somewhere, he’s in danger. It’s not going to be safe for anyone out there.”

“I guess you shouldn’t have yelled at the kid for no reason, then,” Lizzy said.

Derrick gave her a flat, unfriendly look. “There was a very good reason why I wanted the kid to sit tight. I didn’t want him to be roaming around the building when the power went off. There was also a reason why I kept you two from leaving right away. I wasn’t just being a jerk. I didn’t want you to be out there on the road while the event was underway. I figured it might be dangerous.”

Was he serious? Melanie couldn’t quite tell, though he didn’t sound like he was lying. Was it possible that Derrick Platt was capable of sincere concern for his underlings?

“Listen to me, ladies,” he said. “I need your help. I know you need to hurry home, but if you’ll take just a few extra minutes to help me find Nathan, I’ll make it worth your time.”

“How are you going to make it worth our time?” Lizzy asked. “A free generator and a month’s worth of soup powder?”

She laughed, clearly joking, but Derrick nodded. “Yeah, more than that. Look, I didn’t mean to hurt Nathan’s feelings. There’s been upheaval at home, and his mom…” He shook his head sadly. “I don’t know what else I can do about her. She doesn’t understand me. I just want my boy to be safe. If you’ll spend a few minutes helping me out, this factory will open to you and your families.”

“What do you mean by that?” Melanie said.

“I mean, it’ll be open to you and your families, just like I said. Things are going to get bad out there, but this place will be a haven in the storm, so to speak. We’ve got security, we’ve got medicine, food, backup generators, pretty much everything we need to hunker down for a long time, if need be. I’ll throw the door wide open for you guys. You can stay here as long as you like. There’s plenty of room. More than that, I’ll give you a share of the food, medicine, and supplies. You can even take a rifle, if it’ll make you feel safer. How does that sound?”

She couldn’t believe how sincere he sounded. Sincere and emotional. Maybe he really genuinely cared about the kid, after all. Melanie’s first instinct was to turn down the offer, to cut ties with Derrick and Beaton’s and never return, but that flutter of fear in her belly stayed her tongue. For her family’s sake, she resisted the urge to reject him.

“I didn’t make this offer to any of the other employees,” he said. “They left before I knew Nathan was missing, but I’m making it to you. Help me find my son, and you have free access to the factory.”

“My family is expecting me soon,” Melanie said.

“It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes,” he said. “Look, you don’t have to come back here with your families if you don’t want to, but at least you’ll know it’s an option. Once everyone realizes the power grid has collapsed in an almighty cascade of electromagnetic destruction, once the cell phones go down for good, and there’s no power or working tech left, every family in the world will wish they had a safe place like this, a place with food, medicine, and guns. What do you say?”

He looked from Melanie to Lizzy and back. Lizzy was biting her lower lip, as if she were thinking about it. Of course, Melanie had no interest in spending any more time with Derrick Platt than was absolutely necessary, but what if they needed a place to go? They could use one of the offices, camp there privately, and help themselves to a fair share of the supplies. She met Lizzy’s gaze and gave her a little nod.

If it doesn’t work out, if Derrick becomes a pain, we’ll just leave again, she thought.

“Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal,” she said. “Nathan can’t have gone far if he was on foot.”

“Great. Thanks.” Derrick extended his hand to her, and she reluctantly shook it. He had big, damp hands. It was like grasping a warm chunk of aged ham. “Meet me in reception in a couple minutes. I’ll be right there. Just got to check a few things first.”

And with that, he left the office. Melanie listened to his heavy footsteps headed down the stairs, the keys jingling in his pocket.

“If you’re in, I’m in,” Lizzy said, once he was gone. “Are you sure you want to come back to Beaton’s with your family?”

“No, not at all,” Melanie replied, “but I’d like to have the option, if we need it. I’ll tell Mark what’s going on. I’m sure he will agree.” She rooted around the side pocket of her purse and pulled out her cell phone. When she tapped the screen, she noticed immediately that she no longer had any service. Still, she tried to call him, but the call didn’t go through. She got a few seconds of silence and nothing. “Well, scratch that.”

Lizzy checked her phone as well, shaking her head. “Cell service is down again. So what are we doing, Mel? Are you sticking around to help find the kid, or do we sneak out of here and put Derrick Platt in our rearview mirror?”

Nathan Platt seemed like a decent kid, that was the thing. If he was out there, and people really were beginning to panic, then he could be in harm’s way. Melanie had no real interest in helping Derrick, but Nathan was another story.

“Let’s just find the kid,” she said. “He can’t have gone far. What is he going to do? Hike I-75 all the way back into Knoxville? He’s probably sitting out in a field moping about his grumpy dad.”

“I hope you’re right,” Lizzy said.

Melanie did too. She slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder, put the cell phone back in its pocket, and headed for the office door. Whatever happened, she was glad to have the factory as a backup plan for her family. The future seemed uncertain. The more options, the better.

6

As soon as they stepped through the front door of Beaton’s Food Factory, Derrick reached back and pushed it shut, leaning against the door for a couple of seconds. Melanie heard a faint buzzing sound, followed by a low click. The front of Beaton’s had always been rather intimidating. The windows were darkly tinted, and the front door was a big metal door with an oversized handle and a keycard box beside the frame. She’d never really thought about it, but now that she considered the design, she realized that the place did indeed resemble a fortress.

Outside of the factory, the building was surrounded on all sides by a large parking lot and then a tall security wall. Though she couldn’t see over the wall, Melanie knew that there were fields beyond it, separating the factory from other nearby commercial properties. A paved road led from the entry gate, cutting across one of the fields before coming to a T, where the left path led to the nearest highway onramp and the right led to an access road that meandered its way toward Knoxville. There were no employees left in the building. Despite this, quite a few cars were still parked in the lot. One of them had its hood propped open, a brand-new green Volvo. That was Stan Lipton’s car, but there was no Stan Lipton.

“Half the cars have been abandoned,” Melanie noted.

Lizzy was looking around, clearly disturbed by all the dead vehicles. Her own white Grand Am was sitting in its space near the gate beside Melanie’s Honda Accord.

“No one stuck around,” Lizzy replied. “I guess maybe they did rideshare on the spot, you know?”

Derrick came shuffling up, digging the keys out of his pocket. “Well, what do you guys think? Should we pile in the truck and head down the road? Maybe we can circle the building first, make sure he’s not lurking nearby. Three pairs of eyes are bound to spot a kid easier than just one.”

He gestured with a sweep one of pale, pasty arm toward his pickup truck. It was an antique Dodge Dakota, with the distinct boxy cab design of an early ’80s-model truck. Despite its age, he kept it in decent condition, with a two-tone paint job of blue and gray. It had an extended cab, so there was plenty of room for all of them to ride. Still, Melanie didn’t relish the idea.

He noted their hesitation and gestured more insistently at the truck. “Look, electronics are going down. Our best bet is an old truck like that, a mechanical beast that’s mostly immune to electromagnetic shock. We’ll find the kid, then I’ll give you both a ride all the way into town. It’s safer that way. I can drop you off at home, then if you decide to, you can take other vehicles back to the factory.”

“My car is fifteen years old,” Lizzy noted. “Maybe it still works. Anyway, we can cover more ground if we split up. You head one way, we head the other. If Nathan is hiking into town or headed over to the shopping center there, we’re more likely to see him in separate groups.”

“Electrical systems don’t go down all at once,” Derrick said. “It’s a cascade, like I said before. This coronal ejection is huge, okay? As it comes in, the damage multiplies. Got it? Something that still works now probably won’t work in another hour or so.”

“Only one way to find out,” Lizzy said.

Both Derrick and Lizzy turned to Melanie, clearly waiting to see whom she would side with. Melanie was staring hard at the pickup. It was indeed an old mechanical warhorse of a truck. She did not relish the idea of riding in there with Derrick, or of sitting on an old bench seat with only a lap belt. Still, discomfort was not her primary concern right now. Safety and survival were top of the list.

“Your truck is four-wheel drive,” she noted.

“Yes, that’s right,” he replied, “and it’s got off-road wheels, too. I don’t hardly ever drive it off-road, of course. I like to baby the thing, but still…”

“We can cover more ground in separate vehicles,” Lizzy said in a little sing-song voice, swinging her keys back and forth, as if to hypnotize Melanie.

Melanie sighed. She didn’t like to make her best friend angry, but this was one of those times when it couldn’t be helped.

“I’m afraid I agree with Derrick,” she said. She saw Lizzy do a little shudder step backward, an exaggerated look of shock at her friend’s betrayal. “If electrical systems are going down, an older-model truck like that is more likely to keep running. Plus, if we get stuck in traffic because of an accident or dead cars, we can head off-road. I don’t want to get stranded out there somewhere. People are bound to start panicking, if they haven’t already.”

Even Derrick seemed surprised by her support, holding up his hands. “All right then. That settles it. Come on. Let’s go before Nathan gets much farther. He’s not an athletic boy, but when he sets his mind to something, he goes after it.”

He turned and headed for his truck, shuffling through his keys until he found the right one. Lizzy hung back, scowling at Melanie.

“Are you kidding me?” she said in a little hiss, as soon as Derrick was out of earshot. “You want to ride with him?”

“No, not at all,” Melanie replied. “I just don’t want to get stranded out there on some back road, especially if all the electrical systems stop working. We can put up with Derrick Platt for a few minutes. It’s not the end of the world. Practically speaking, it makes more sense to take the vehicle that will handle this situation best.”

“I think maybe we’re all getting carried away,” Lizzy said, jamming her keys back into her pocket. “People aren’t going to riot just because electrical systems go down. Stuff can be repaired or replaced. It’ll be an annoyance at best.” As if testing her own theory, she pulled out her cell phone and stared at the screen.

“No signal?”

Lizzy didn’t bother to reply, stuffing the phone back in her pocket. “This isn’t good for my asthma, you know. I just want to go home. That’s all I’ve wanted from the second everything went sideways. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

In a huff, she brushed past Melanie and started after Derrick.

“Liz,” Melanie said.

Her friend kept going another three steps before coming to an abrupt stop and looking back over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.

“I know first-hand what people will do when they’re scared,” Melanie said. “I don’t want to make you nervous, but we’ll be a lot safer if we expect the worst. People get desperate when their normal lives are disrupted, and it doesn’t take long for the wolves to start circling. You know what I mean?”

Lizzy’s hard expression softened. She flung a stray lock of blonde hair out of her face. “This whole situation sucks. I wish I’d never come to work.”

“No phones, no internet, no television, no lights, no refrigeration, no air conditioner, and possible looters roaming around,” Melanie reminded her. “Plus, we’re not stocked up for the end of civilization. Home isn’t really going to be all that comfortable, Liz. We’ll probably be better off here at the factory where we have food, medical supplies, generators for power, weapons to protect ourselves, and more. Sorry, I hate to admit it, honestly, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense.”

“Oh, God,” Lizzy groaned, smacking the side of her head. “I don’t want you to be right about this, but what do I know? I’m not an expert on coronal whatever-whatever. Let’s go find this poor kid and get home. We’ll figure the rest of it out later.”

And with that, she strode off toward the truck, where Derrick was already pulling open the creaking passenger’s door. Melanie couldn’t help second-guessing herself. She always did. Maybe her instincts were wrong here.

I’m blowing this all out of proportion, she thought. Maybe we just need to go home and relax, and things will get back to normal soon enough.

But her husband had sounded freaked out. It wasn’t like him. More than that, something in Melanie’s primal brain—the part that had guided her during her worst years—was awake and alert, and felt danger closing in around her. She checked her cell phone one more time—still dead—then hurried after Liz.

7

He saw the black sedan coming from the cross street, picking up speed just as the light before him turned green. It hit some piece of debris on the road, bounced, but kept coming. Shona tried to warn him, but she didn’t get out any actual words, just a kind of staccato rhythm. Mark laid into the brake, turning to the right to pull closer to the curb, and the sedan blew past them, passing mere inches in front of their front bumper. It was like a momentary black wall, blurry as a dust-choked gust of wind, and for a fraction of a second, he saw the terrified, gape-mouthed face of the white-haired woman behind the wheel. And then the sedan was gone, blasting through the intersection and headed up the street at a furious pace.

“People are driving like lunatics,” Shona said, curled up into a tight little ball in the corner of her seat. “You have to be more careful, Dad. That’s the third car that almost hit us.”

“I know. I know.”

He put the car in Park, leaning over the steering wheel, as the truck behind them swerved around and kept going. Heart racing, he squeezed his eyes shut.

I got too worked up from the initial message, he thought. It put me on edge. I need to calm down and deal with this rationally, or we’re not going to get home in one piece.

He opened his eyes and tried to give his daughter an encouraging smile, but she clearly wasn’t buying it. She still had her arms wrapped around her backpack, but now she seemed to be gripping it like she wanted to disappear.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t see it coming until the last second. I had the green light.”

“Can we get out of the car?” Shona said. “Can we walk? This isn’t safe.”

She reached for her doorknob, so he hit the door lock, just to make sure it wouldn’t open. “Shona, we’re still a couple miles from home. We’re not going to get out and walk. I’ll be more careful.”

But his daughter wasn’t thinking clearly. She leaned against her window and pressed her cheek to the glass, as if she could melt right through it.

“Dad, look at those people,” she said, tapping her finger on the glass.

He leaned to one side so he could see past her. He had parked at an angle next to the sidewalk near the crosswalk. The block contained a row of small shops. An entire family was trucking down the street in their direction. Father and mother, grandma, and three young kids. The father was dragging a large wheeled suitcase behind him, and the mother had an enormous backpack on her shoulders. As soon as Mark made eye contact with the father, he began frantically waving his free hand over his head.

“Is he waving at us?” Shona asked. “What do they want?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Let’s not find out.”

He put the car back in Drive and started to pull away.

“Wait. Wait,” the father shouted. “We need a ride!”

Mark felt a brief moment of guilt, but it didn’t stop him. He eased back into traffic and crossed the intersection, just as the light turned yellow. In the rearview mirror, he saw the father shift his attention to another car.

“What if they needed help?” Shona said. “What if the kids were hurt or something?”

“We couldn’t have fit them all in the car, even if we wanted to,” he replied.

Beyond the intersection, the road curved to the left, but as soon as Mark reached the curve, he saw that traffic was stopped. Some kind of accident had taken place. As best he could tell, a truck had slammed into an SUV. People were gathered in and around the steaming vehicles, shouting and pointing at each other. Mark had to pull his Jetta into a gas station parking lot and cut at an angle to another street. Shona was still pressed against her window, but he could hear fast, shallow breathing.

“Dad, those people were hurt back there,” she said. “Shouldn’t we help them?”

“There’s nothing we can do for them right now,” he replied, thumping over a curb as he entered a side street. “We have to get home. Police or EMTs will handle it.”

“Dad! There!” She pointed at the windshield. “Look!”

Straight ahead, another car had somehow swerved off the road and hit the corner of a low brick wall. A woman was pacing beside the car, staring at a cell phone in her hand, while a small child, maybe six years old, stood nearby, clutching a blanket and looking terrified.

“Please, Dad, we have to stop and help them,” Shona said, her voice rising.

“I’m sorry, honey. I have to prioritize our safety,” Mark replied.

“Why is everyone crashing? What is going on?”

Knowing his daughter’s anxious personality, he hadn’t wanted to tell her the full truth, but he owed her something. “Right now, we’re experiencing a solar event that is making electronics go haywire. People were already on edge because of economic problems and record bad weather, and now we’re dealing with this. The timing is especially awful, so people are stressed out. That’s all.”

Ahead, a group of men were gathered around a Camaro. The hood was up, and two of them were bent over the engine. Mark heard them cursing and complaining as he drove past. One of the men turned to him and tried to wave him over, but he was soon gone.

Shona frowned at him. No doubt she thought he was being hard-hearted. She didn’t realize how much he hated doing it. He was a problem-solver by nature. More than that, he’d always tried to set a good example for his daughter. It felt like he was doing damage to her image of him, but he couldn’t help it. He had a family to protect.

“Things may get worse,” he said, feeling a surge of adrenaline as he said it. There was a weight behind those words that Shona probably didn’t realize. Worse was an understatement, and Mark knew it. “The sooner we get home, the better.”

“I hate this so much,” Shona grumbled, burying her face against the top of her backpack. “I don’t like seeing all these people and driving right past them. This is awful. I don’t want to see them.” Her voice was getting higher, sharper. “I don’t want it to get worse. What’s going to happen to everyone?”

“Shona, it’s okay,” he said, trying to sound comforting. “Take deep breaths. Stay calm.”

Ahead, the road passed out of a residential area and crossed a plot of undeveloped land just ahead. Still, there was a minivan stalled at an angle across the opposing lane, with a man smacking the steering wheel.

“I don’t want it to get worse,” Shona said. Her breathing was getting faster and shallower. She lifted her head and began to fan her face with her hands.

“Try to calm yourself,” he said. “Deep breaths, remember?”

“Dad, it’s not like a light switch that I can just turn on and off,” she said. “What do you expect?” She shoved her backpack off her lap and reached for her seatbelt buckle. “Pull over. Please, pull over.”

She was practically hyperventilating now. Distracted, Mark almost hit a motorcycle that was sitting in the lane ahead. It had apparently died and been abandoned. He swerved around it, mounting the curb with the right tires.

“Dad, pull over,” Shona wailed. “Please!”

Fortunately, they were next to an open field, so there was little traffic and no people in the immediate vicinity. He pulled a little farther off the road and came to a stop, putting the car in Park. Shona began tugging at the door handle, but she was locked out. When she realized this, she began pounding on the door.

“Let me out. Let me out!”

Mark fumbled with the door lock and finally managed to press it. As soon as the lock clicked, Shona flung her door open and practically spilled out of the car. In the process, her backpack tumbled onto the ground, but she kicked it out of her way and crawled away from the car. When she’d gone a few yards out into the field, she rose on shaky legs, bent over at the waist. Mark checked his rearview and sideview mirrors. There were some people behind them. They’d been gathered around a vehicle, but they had turned now to see what was going on. Shona was moaning and breathing loudly, her hands pressed against her thighs.

His daughter was prone to anxiety attacks, and he’d only made it worse. He’d prioritized speed and safety over her emotional well-being, and this was the price he was paying for it. Mark was afraid to turn off the engine, paranoid that somehow it would never start again. Instead, he locked his door, clambered over the center console and gearshift, and exited out Shona’s door. He grabbed the backpack and flung it back into the car, then went to his daughter’s side. She was struggling to calm herself, doing her breathing routines—in through the nostrils, out through the mouth in counts of five—but her shoulders were trembling. Mark laid a hand on her back, but that only made her grunt as if in pain and lurch forward.

“It’s okay, Shona. Slow, deep breaths,” he said. He turned to look at the group of people back by the other car. They were all staring now, and some of them were talking to each other.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Shona said, wrapping her arms around her belly.

“If you need to throw up, go right ahead,” he said. “We’re fine. I’m sorry about all this.”

He heard a squeal of tires and looked for the source. A small Toyota had just turned onto the street at a dangerous speed from the parking lot of a small industrial building to the north.

“Let’s get you home,” he said. He reached out, intending to gently guide her back to the car, but he hesitated to touch her again. “Everything will be a lot better when we’re all together, safely at home, away from all this crazy behavior.”

“Just a second. Hang on.” Shona stood up straight and leaned her head back, grimacing as she took a big gulp of air.

Mark kept his eye on the Toyota to make sure the driver wasn’t going to hit their Jetta. Fortunately, the car was on the other side of the road. However, he was picking up speed and weaving slightly as he came. Mark then saw movement in the other direction, and realized a van was headed down the road from the south, also going entirely too fast.

“We have to go,” he said.

Something in his voice caught her attention, and she looked at him suddenly, wiping away tears. Then she looked at the vehicles, which were barreling toward each other. Judging by their speed, they were going to pass each other right beside the Jetta. As they got closer, the Toyota driver laid into his horn, and the van driver stuck an arm out of the open driver side window, flailing his hand.

“Dad,” Shona said, plaintively.

He put his arm around her protectively and drew her close. Both vehicles hit the brakes and swerved at the last second, but they swerved in the same direction. They slammed into each other head-on, headlight to headlight, at perhaps twenty-five miles per hour. The Toyota got the worst of it, its hood folding in, the car spinning to its left and coming dangerously close to the Jetta. The van’s back end bounced, and the larger vehicle continued across the road, mounted the curb, and came to a stop. The airbags in both cars had deployed, so for a second, Mark couldn’t see either driver.

“Okay, we’d better get out of here,” he said, guiding his daughter back to the Jetta, though this brought them closer to the wreck. She didn’t resist.

The driver of the Toyota flung his door open, batting the deflated airbag aside, and stepped out. He was a tough little guy with a blunt face, tight t-shirt showing off well-muscled arms and shoulders. The driver of the van got out as well, bleeding from the nose, and stepped down onto the street. He was taller, not as well-muscled, with his long hair pulled back in a ponytail, but he looked rough. He wore a long black coat that was absolutely filthy, as if the guy had spent some time sleeping on the street.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going, you jerk?” the Toyota driver shouted, flipping him off. “Other people are trying to use to road, too, you know.”

“Oh, it’s my fault?” the van driver said. “No, I don’t think so, pal. I was in my lane. I don’t know what you were doing.”

Toyota driver strode toward him, and Mark could tell by his posture that he was ready for a fight. It was definitely time to go. He climbed through the passenger door of the Jetta, stepped awkwardly over the center console, and slid down behind the steering wheel. Shona followed, dropped into her seat, and dragged her backpack into her lap.

“Close the door. Quick,” he said, making a little spinning motion with his hand.

As she reached for the door handle, he heard a scuffle break out. The Toyota driver had lunged at the van driver, swinging wildly. With his longer reach, the van driver grabbed the smaller man’s arms, and they were now locked in a furious shoving match just a few feet from Mark’s window.

“You’re gonna pay for the damage, you hear me?” the Toyota driver shouted.

“Get out of my face,” the van driver replied.

Just then, the Toyota driver twisted and got his right hand free, then he took a swing at the van driver. He clipped the taller man’s face, knuckles brushing his already bleeding nose. The van driver howled in pain, grabbed his face, and stumbled backward. At the same time, his left hand swept his jacket open, and Mark saw the holster clipped to his belt.

Shona slammed her door, and Mark hit the door lock button. He had just grabbed the gearshift when gunshots rang out. The van driver was firing wildly as he backpedaled, blood running freely from both nostrils. The Toyota driver stumbled to one side, still trying to get at his opponent despite the gunshots.

“Who’s shooting?” Shona wailed. “Are they shooting at us?”

He put a hand against the back of her head and pushed her down. “Stay low.”

Just then, a bullet hit the back of his car, punching a hole in the trunk lid. It sounded like someone had pounded the lid with a hammer. The Toyota driver had grabbed the taller man around the waist and was shoving him backward toward the van, but the van driver continued to fire, even as his arms flailed about.

“Hold on tight,” Mark said, as he slammed the Jetta into Drive. He stomped on the accelerator, and the car lurched forward. Shouting and cursing followed them, and Mark heard another bullet hit the back of the car somewhere.

Ahead, other cars had turned onto the street, as if drawn by the fighting. One of them, a blue sedan, had stopped in their lane, facing the wrong way. As Mark approached him, he had to leave the road entirely, intending to circle around the sedan on the grass. A man suddenly stepped out of the driver’s door, a grizzled gentleman in a camouflage shirt and pants, red baseball cap pulled low. He saw Mark coming and produced a handgun and pointed it at the Jetta.

“Stop right there,” he shouted.

He thinks we’re part of the fighting, Mark realized, and that we’re trying to flee the scene.

It made as much sense as anything else. Fortunately, Shona was folded all the way down, her head well below the dashboard. Mark leaned to one side, trying to get beneath the windshield, even as the grizzled old man tracked them with the gun. They were moving fast now, bouncing over the rough ground as they approached the sedan.

“I said stop,” the old man shouted, his voice cracking from the strain.

But Mark didn’t let up. He blasted past the sedan, back tires fishtailing in the field. Something smacked against the side of the Jetta in passing, and then the car bounced wildly over a dip in the field. Mark didn’t know if it was a bullet, the gun, or the old man’s fist, and he didn’t bother to look. Shona dared to lift her head and looked in the sideview mirror.

“Dad, oh my God,” she screamed. “You ran him over! You ran over that old man!” She burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.

Mark glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the old man on the ground, still rolling from the impact. A bystander from another vehicle rushed to his side. Mark’s heart was in his throat now, a white-hot panic gripping him, but this only made him keep his weight against the accelerator. As they approached the parking lot of the small industrial building, he eased back onto the road, bouncing over the curb. The car shocks groaned.

“Did you kill him?” Shona said. “Is he dead?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Mark said, out of breath.

As they passed the industrial building, he eased up on the pedal and slowed down just enough to get control of the Jetta. Of course, he had no idea whether he’d killed the old man or not. He couldn’t tell. He could see in the rearview mirror that the man was lying on the ground, unmoving now, and people were gathering around him.

“I didn’t mean to hit him,” Mark said. He was reeling. His fingertips were tingling in an uncomfortable way, his vision rimmed in blackness, and a great swell of unbearable tension was building in his chest and stomach. Was this what his daughter felt when she was edging toward a panic attack? “It was an accident, but he was pointing a gun at us!”

“We shouldn’t have stopped,” she said. “It was my fault. I got out of the car. It was stupid!”

“No, no, it’s not your fault that other people are losing their minds,” he said.

He was forced to slow down as they approached an intersection. Another car was stalled in the middle of the intersection, forcing traffic to slow as they went around it. Mark mounted the curb again to get past them, turning west toward home.

“Let’s not stop again,” Shona said. She was shaking violently now, her arms wrapped around her head. “Even if I puke, let’s keep going. I don’t want to get out of this car until we’re safe in our own driveway.”

“You got it,” Mark replied. “No more stopping for anything. Try not to look out the window anymore. There’s nothing out there you want to see.”

She nodded and leaned to one side, burying her face against her door beneath the window. Mark wanted to comfort her, to give her a hug or a pat on the back or something, but he knew that it might startle her. She didn’t respond well to affection when she was panicking. No, the best thing he could do to show compassion for his daughter was to get her home as quickly as possible, and that’s what he intended to do.

8

Thank God it was an extended cab, with a little bench seat in the back. The prospect of riding up front with Derrick right there in all his glory was too much. The boss had a peculiar way of getting behind the driver’s seat. First, he opened the door all the way, then he turned his backside toward the seat and planted one of his shoes on the running board. With a deep growl, he then boosted himself up and backed inside the truck, hands pressed against the doorframe.

Unfortunately, when he did this, Melanie was standing in the open passenger door and got a generous peek at about three inches of a plumber’s crack. Suppressing the urge to gag, she averted her gaze and waited for him to settle behind the steering wheel. Once he was finally in place, she looked over the passenger seat at the back bench. A big toolbox, dirty clothes, towels, and blankets covered most of the back seat, and old mail littered the floorboards.

More alarming was the sheer number of guns mounted behind the driver’s seat. Living in Tennessee, Melanie had seen her fair share of trucks with rifles or shotguns mounted in the back, but this was overkill. Derrick had two rifles mounted one above the other along the top of the rear window. Then he had a row of handguns holstered in what seemed to be specially made mounts on the back of the driver’s seat. Why in the world would he—or anyone, for that matter—need so many guns in their vehicle?

I work for the weirdest human being on earth, she thought, not for the first time that day.

Still, the back seat was the prime location, as far as Melanie was concerned.

“I’ll take the back,” she said.

“Plenty of room for all three in the front,” Derrick said. “It’s a little bit of a mess back there.”

“There’s enough room,” Melanie said. “I can make it work.”

She squeezed past the front seat, working her way through the small opening and sliding onto the back bench. Her feet sank into the pool of discarded mail, and she had to brush a few wadded t-shirts out of her way. Lizzy approached the open passenger door. When Melanie patted the seat beside her, Lizzy gave her a disgusted frown and shook her head.

“No, thanks,” she said. “I’ll ride up here. You should too.”

Melanie made a discreet gesture, pointing two fingers at her own eyes then at the back of Derrick’s head. I want to keep an eye on him. Lizzy seemed to understand and gave her a nod and a thumbs-up as she climbed onto the front seat.

“Strap in, ladies,” Derrick said.

He turned the key and stomped on the gas. At first, the engine wouldn’t turn over. Clearly, this old truck had a carburetor instead of a fuel injector, but Derrick was persistent. Eventually it roared to life, and he backed out of his parking space. She could tell right away that he was a wild driver, so she rooted around for a seat belt. She didn’t find one. He drove to the open gate, cutting diagonally across the parking lot. When he got to the security box on the other side of the gate, he hopped out and swiped his card, but the gate didn’t respond. He tried three more times before resigning himself to pulling the gate shut manually and setting the backup mechanical lock. Then he did his weird little backward spin to get behind the wheel.

“Some things work, some things don’t,” he noted, pulling out of the driveway in a burst of gravel. “It’s kind of a crapshoot.”

At the end of the driveway, they had two ways to go. To the left, the road went to the interstate onramp. To the right, it followed a back road that ran roughly parallel to the interstate. Derrick paused here, giving Lizzy and Melanie questioning looks.

“Surely Nathan wouldn’t hike down the interstate,” Melanie said. “I mean, I don’t know your son all that well, but doesn’t it seem more likely that he took the access road down to that shopping center there?” She pointed through the passenger window to the shopping center in the distance, where a small fire continued to smolder in the corner.

The back road into Knoxville was actually quite busy most of the time. Those who lived just outside city limits preferred to use it to access nearby businesses, rather than getting on the interstate. She saw a few vehicles moving in the distance, heading toward town. The shopping center parking lot was mostly empty, though she spotted a couple of cars with their hoods up and people bent over the engines. There wasn’t much to the place: an auto body shop, a pharmacy, a cell phone store, and two empty storefronts. As they approached, she scanned the place for some sign of Nathan.

Derrick slowed as he approached the entrance.

“What do we do?” Lizzy asked. “Do we park and check each of the stores?”

“Nah, I don’t think he would’ve gone to any of these places,” Derrick replied. “If they had a bookstore or a gaming shop, maybe…but…”

He slowed to a crawl, inching past the parking lot entrance but not pulling in. Beyond the shopping center, a large field stretched out toward a nearby housing development. Unless the kid was hiding in the tall grass somewhere, he was nowhere to be seen.

“You really think he just kept walking?” Melanie asked.

Ahead, the access road followed a gradual curve and continued on toward Knoxville.

“Knowing my kid, he probably decided to walk all the way home,” Derrick said sourly, smacking the steering wheel with his hands.

How much does that kid hate his father that he’s willing to walk for miles just to get away from him? Melanie wondered.

“You don’t think he’d be in that cell phone store?” Lizzy said.

“Doing what?” Derrick barked, far more annoyed by the question than he had any right to be. “There’s no games in there. No, I know my kid.”

“He does this a lot, does he?” Lizzy asked. A bold question, and it got her a withering look from the boss.

“Let’s just head toward Knoxville then,” Melanie said. “Maybe we’ll see him along the road somewhere. It’s where we’re all headed anyway.”

Derrick smacked the steering wheel again—indeed, Melanie could see a shiny spot near the top of the steering wheel, evidence that it got smacked quite a bit. Then he picked up speed and rolled past the shopping center. The whole aura of the man was so unpleasant. Melanie couldn’t relax, not for a second. The constant low-grade anger that seemed to waft off him like a bad smell, the tension in that bulldog face, the way he fidgeted and grumbled under his breath—all of it made her nervous. Lizzy must have felt it too, judging by the way she sat as far from him as possible, pressed up against the passenger door and turned slightly away.

Just put up with it, she thought. He’s your way home, and he’s your access to the factory’s food and supplies. It’s worth the discomfort.

Melanie shifted on her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. When she did, her left knee bumped one of the handgun holsters hanging from the back of the seat. So many guns. She looked at them, and realized that behind them were also boxes of ammo tucked in among the piles of mail on the floorboards. She was sorely tempted to ask him about them. Had he been preparing for armed conflict?

“Whoa.”

At a sound from Derrick, she looked up from the boxes of ammo to the road ahead. Two cop cars were parked on the shoulder, and they’d used sawhorses to block the outer lanes. At the moment, an old station wagon was stopped in the gap, and as Melanie watched, the driver handed his license to one of the officers.

“Those sons of guns set up a checkpoint into town,” Derrick said, giving the steering wheel another smack. “Can you believe it? Didn’t take long for martial law, did it?”

“Well, I hope they’re not asking everyone in the car for ID,” Lizzy said. “I left my purse in my locker.”

Derrick slowed as he approached the checkpoint, and now he began drumming both hands against the steering wheel and rocking back and forth. What was he so nervous about? Even if Lizzy didn’t have ID, what did it matter? Melanie leaned forward, resting her arms on top of the front seat. Derrick seemed to be muttering under his breath. When she glanced at him, she noticed another handgun holster mounted on the driver’s door just beneath the handle.

“It’s fine,” she said. “They’re probably just trying to keep looters out of town. You know how quickly people start looting anytime there’s a big problem.”

The cop waved the station wagon through. Derrick’s pickup truck was next, but he was creeping forward now. His overreaction was making Melanie far more anxious than the checkpoint. What was the big deal here? Suddenly, Derrick’s left hand crept down to the door, fingering the release on the plastic holster.

Is this guy nuts? she wondered.

But then he grabbed the handle to roll down the window instead. As he pulled up beside the officer, he stopped rocking back and forth and fixed an ugly, fake smile on his face. Still, Melanie noted that his right leg was bouncing up and down, as if he were full of restless energy.

Four officers, Melanie noted. One came to the window, and another stepped off the shoulder and came around behind the truck. The other two stayed on the far side of a police car, watching from over the hood. Something moved in the rearview mirror. Melanie realized another vehicle had pulled up behind them. It was an older-model Mustang, painted a burnt orange color, with tinted windows.

“Just be calm,” Derrick muttered. She realized he was speaking to himself. “Just be cool.” Even as he said it, his left hand crept down to the handgun holster again, fingering the release.

The officer strode up to the window. He was a big guy, with a lantern jaw and an untrimmed mustache. He wore mirrored sunglasses, and when he pulled them off, she saw that the skin around his eyes was notably lighter than the rest of his face, as if he wore the sunglasses all the time.

“What’s going on here?” Derrick said, far more sharply than was necessary. Melanie winced.

“We’re just checking IDs,” the officer said. He was clearly trying, though not quite succeeding, at sounding friendly. “Not a big deal. Got some troublemakers trying to head into town. I’ll need to see a driver’s license or some other form of ID from everyone in the vehicle.”

“Everyone?” Lizzy said.

“Yes, ma’am,” the officer replied.

“I just don’t understand the reason for this,” Derrick said. “The power goes out and suddenly everyone’s a suspect.”

Melanie unzipped her purse. All Lizzy had to do was tell him she’d left her purse at work. No big deal. Why was Derrick freaking out? But as she pulled her own wallet out, she saw his left hand curl around the handle of the gun, as if he intended to draw it out. Her heart racing, she felt a moment of paralyzing panic.

“No one is a suspect,” the officer said.

“Oh, is that so?”

Melanie heard the sound of car doors opening. In the rearview mirror, she saw both doors on the Mustang fly open. She had less than a second to register this before all hell broke loose. She heard a burst of gunfire and saw flashes of light in the mirror. The officer at the window lurched to one side, slamming into the truck’s sideview mirror. Melanie saw kind of red mist behind him, saw the dark hole punched into his cheek. And then he spun and dropped away.

“Who’s shooting? Who’s shooting?” Lizzy wailed, hunkering down in her seat and wrapping her arms around the back of her head.

A second officer had been standing between the truck and the Mustang, and he fled now, drawing his pistol as he ran for the nearest police car. He didn’t make it. Both the driver and the passenger of the Mustang were shooting, and they hit him multiple times. Cursing and screaming, he fell, hit the shoulder of the road, and rolled onto his side.

The shooters looked unremarkable. Young men in t-shirts and jeans, baseball caps, one with glasses, the other with a thin gold chain around his neck.

Melanie had only a second to wonder who they were before Derrick drew his handgun and stomped on the accelerator. The other officers had dropped behind their vehicle, but they aimed over the hood and began to fire. Melanie heard at least one bullet hit the side of the truck. She dropped down on her seat, feeling the cold metal of the toolbox beneath her.

As they roared past the checkpoint, she dared another glance through the back window. The first officer was sprawled across the center divider, dark blood pooling around his head. The other officer was on his side in the shoulder, unmoving. The killers moved with purpose, circling around the police vehicle and opening fire again. The remaining cops were hunkered down there, still aiming over the hood. They realized only belatedly that the gunmen had flanked them.

Melanie wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Her survival instincts demanded that she keep apprised of the situation, so she watched as one officer dropped his gun and raised his hands, trying to surrender. They gunmen shot him in the head, and he dropped hard. The final officer managed to return fire, but the shot went wild. He was promptly killed.

Derrick’s truck was moving fast now, and the awful scene quickly disappeared into the distance. Melanie finally turned back around, tingling with fear. Lizzy was still bent all the way forward, the top of her head pressed against the glove compartment.

“Oh, my ever-loving God, that was insane,” Derrick said, laughing wildly, the wind from his open window blasting his greasy hair back. “I did not see that coming.”

He still had the handgun in his left hand, but he slid it back into the holster. Only then did he roll up the window.

“Are you laughing about it?” Lizzy said, voice muffled against her knees.

“Nervous energy, that’s all,” Derrick replied. “Hey, at least I didn’t freeze up like some people would have. They might have shot us, too, you know?”

“Oh, believe me, the thought crossed my mind,” Lizzy said. She finally sat up, and Melanie laid a hand on her shoulder.

“We’re okay,” Melanie said. “We’re fine.”

Yes, at least Derrick had reacted quickly. He might be half-crazy, but he’d gotten them out of that situation without anyone in the truck getting shot. For that, if for nothing else, she was grateful. Suddenly, all of the guns inside the truck seemed like a good idea.

“What did they want?” Lizzy said, rubbing her hands together anxiously. “Why did they start shooting?”

“Law and order are flimsier than most people realize,” Derrick said. “There are a heck of a lot more opportunists out there than you realize. That’s why you gotta be prepared.”

Melanie settled back in her seat, taking slow breaths in an effort to calm herself. Derrick was right, but at the same time, he had reached for his handgun before the shooting broke out. What had he intended to do? She didn’t like to think about the possibilities.

9

Melanie had sunk back in her seat, a kind of ringing horror in her mind, wishing she could fade into the piles of old towels, t-shirts, and mail. The reality of what they’d just seen gradually overtook her, and she began shaking so badly that she finally stuck her hands under her thighs. Lizzy was curled up in her seat, but after a few minutes, she thrust her hand through the gap between her seat and the door, reaching for Melanie in the back. Melanie took her hand, briefly squeezing it. But she didn’t want Lizzy to feel the trembling, so she quickly let go.

They were roaring down the road at great speed, dodging stalled and parked cars, flying past people on foot. Melanie was vaguely aware of a small residential neighborhood approaching on the right. And through it all, Derrick kept making quiet noises under his breath. He seemed constantly on the verge of laughing, as if the massacre had somehow invigorated him. Maybe, as he’d said, it was just the way he processed stress.

“What if the guys in the Mustang come after us?” Lizzy said. “We saw what they did to those cops. What if they chase us down?”

Derrick adjusted his rearview mirror. Melanie caught a glimpse of his wide eyes. He was beaming. “Nah, they already turned off into a neighborhood about half a mile back,” he said. “I was watching them. Trust me. I’m always aware of my surroundings.”

“Well, that’s good then,” Lizzy replied. “At least one of us is paying attention.”

Melanie finally managed to pull herself at least partway out of the fog of horror. Sitting up, she leaned against Lizzy’s headrest and peered through the windshield. Ahead, the southbound lanes were blocked by two vehicles that seemed to have collided head-on. A group of people was gathered on the shoulder of the road, some pacing and others sitting in the grass.

They were passing by a residential area. Suddenly, Derrick slowed the truck, glanced out the passenger window, and muttered something that Melanie didn’t catch. With no warning, he turned into the neighborhood, taking the corner so fast that Melanie slid across her seat and bumped against the toolbox. In the process, the lid popped open. She caught a glimpse inside. Plenty of tools, yes, but also medical supplies: rolls of bandages, disinfectant, stacks of pills in blister packs. Then the lid slammed shut again.

“Where are we going?” Melanie asked.

“I have to stop at a house for just a minute,” he said. “To check on someone. There’s a small chance Nathan went there. I’ll be real quick.”

He slowed down and came to a stop in front of a small nondescript house, parking at the end of the sidewalk. Melanie didn’t recognize the place. It was a one-story, ranch-style house like thousands of others in the neighborhood. Yellow siding, an orange University of Tennessee decal in a corner of the living room window, a quaint porch swing, and not much else. There were no cars in the driveway.

“Can we not stop here, please?” Lizzy said. “I want to get home.”

“I told you, this guy might know something about Nathan,” Derrick said, flinging his door open. “I swear I’ll be right back. Hang on.”

And with that he hopped out and circled the truck, leaving his door wide open. He ran up the sidewalk, took the porch steps in a single bound, and approached the front door. Melanie found it odd, but she was more impatient than anything. Still, they’d promised to help him find Nathan.

“This sucks,” Lizzy said. “We never should have come with him. He’s making me a nervous wreck.”

“Yeah,” Melanie replied, “but he reacted to that gunfight back there a lot faster than I would have. He’s got good reflexes when there’s trouble, I’ll give him that.”

“We’ll see if it was worth it,” Lizzy said. “Where do you think the kid went to? It’s like Nathan vanished into thin air.”

“With the crazy way we were driving, we probably passed him somewhere along the way,” Melanie said. “He was probably lurking near the factory.” Irritated, she muttered, “Whatever. As long as I get back to Mark and Shona.”

Derrick was pounding on the front door and peering through the sidelight window, though the inside of the house seemed dark. Still, he persisted, pressing the doorbell, hammering on the door, and peering through the sidelight in turn, and getting increasingly agitated.

Melanie reached into her purse and dug out her phone. No cell signal. Despite this, she tried to call Mark, but the phone never rang. When she tried to text him, she got another damned red exclamation point. Cursing, she shoved the phone back into her purse. She needed to hear from her family. She needed to know they were okay.

“Should I at least close his door?” Lizzy said. “It makes me nervous having it wide open to the street like that, especially after what happened back there.”

“Yeah, I think that would be good,” Melanie replied.

She glanced at the porch again and saw that Derrick was now on his cell phone. He had it pressed to his ear, and he was barking at someone, gesturing wildly with his arm as he did.

“I see his phone works, but who the heck is he talking to?” she wondered aloud. “Can we just get out of here already?”

Then again, if she put herself in his place, if Shona had been the one who’d run away, she knew she would be pretty frantic. If anything, Derrick wasn’t acting frantic enough.

Lizzy was crawling across the bench seat, reaching for the door, when Melanie saw a shadow move up on the left side. It startled her so badly that she actually reached for one of the handguns holstered behind the front seat. Then she realized it was a big, maroon Monte Carlo, and a scared old woman was peering at them from the passenger window. She had a tall pouf of white hair and a perfect little grandma face with generous laugh lines, but at the moment, those lines were being pulled out of position into a grimace, making it look like she was in pain. She stared at them, gnarled arthritic fingers grasping the edge of the car window, a big opal ring glinting on her middle finger.

“Oh, please, you ladies,” she said. “Please, help us.”

Lizzy had crawled to the driver’s seat, and she reached for the door handle, as if oblivious to the old woman’s sudden plea for help.

“Wait,” Melanie said. “Don’t shut the door.”

Lizzy glanced back at her, frowning, but Melanie leaned over the front seat and caught the old woman’s eye. She could see a man sitting beside her, gripping the steering wheel. He looked like a kindly, sad grandpa, with a shiny bald head and a thin face.

“Ma’am, we’re in a bit of a hurry,” Melanie said. Best to establish expectations first, she thought, in case they asked for something unreasonable. “What seems to be the problem?”

“We’re about out of gas, and the stations are either closed or too crowded,” the woman said. “We don’t know what else to do. No one will stop or give us the time of day, and now there’s some kind of crazy business going on down the road.”

Lizzy looked at Melanie and held her hands up. Clearly, she didn’t want to get entangled in this. Melanie waved her out of the way and climbed over the front seat. She wouldn’t run these poor people off—their trouble might be real—but hopefully it could be handled quickly.

“What do you need?” Melanie asked, dropping down onto the driver’s seat. “Do you need a little money? I think I have some cash on me.”

“Oh, no, no, we have money, and a gas card,” the woman replied. “You’ve got all that stuff in the back of your truck. We were hoping you had a little extra gas. Isn’t that a gas can back there?” She thrust her hand out of the window and pointed into the back of the truck. “Just a gallon or two would get us home.”

“Don’t get out,” Lizzy said quietly.

But Melanie didn’t get a bad vibe off these people. The situation was strange, but she trusted her sense of people. Though quite a few years older, this sweet old couple reminded her of Lizzy’s parents, who had, of course, become like parents to her as well. She thought they were the type that trusted too easily, somehow made innocent by age. She climbed out, then walked to the back of the truck. Derrick was still pacing back and forth on the porch, speaking intensely into his phone, his free hand looping about in the air. What in the world was he doing?

The back of the pickup was as cluttered with junk as the back seat, full of plastic bags and metal boxes, rain-rusted tools, random debris, and a ridiculous amount of rope. Maybe Derrick was more of a hoarder than a prepper, possibly both at the same time. However, it was clear what the elderly couple had spotted: a five-gallon metal jerry can near the back gate. When she picked it up, it felt about half full.

“Oh, thank you,” the old woman said, as Melanie lifted the jerry can out of the back of the truck.

“Are you sure we should be doing that?” Lizzy said, peeking through the open driver’s door. “It’s Derrick’s gas, not ours.”

“I’ll pay him back,” Melanie replied. “Anyway, how can he begrudge giving a couple of nice people a gallon of gas so they don’t get stranded?”

Melanie searched for the gas tank door and found it on the left rear of the vehicle. As she carried the gas can around the back of the Monte Carlo, the driver’s door opened, and the old grandpa got out.

“Let me help you there,” he said, shuffling toward her. He wore a knitted vest over a yellow button-up shirt, a pair of beige slacks, and a pair of bright-white New Balance shoes. Oh, yes, the picture of a grandpa was complete. “We’re so grateful for the help. We just didn’t know what else to do.”

As he came toward her, he was smiling at her, but his gaze shifted suddenly, looking at something above her shoulder. The smile vanished. Melanie was just about to set the jerry can on the pavement when she heard a familiar scrape-tap sound behind her. She turned to confront the source, as the vast shape of Derrick Platt swooped in, huffing and puffing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snarled.

He grabbed the jerry can. She tried to tighten her grip on the handle, but she was no match for Derrick Platt. Underneath all of that beer-fed thickness, he had some real muscles, and he yanked the can out of her hands. Then he used his own momentum to pivot, swing around, and head back toward his truck.

“We’re just trying to help these people out,” Melanie said.

“Get back in the truck,” he said. He raised the jerry can above his head and dumped it unceremoniously into the back of the truck. Then he turned to face her, his face twisted up in fury. “I said get back in the truck!”

Melanie didn’t appreciate the tone. More than that, she was embarrassed at being scolded like a child in front of this sweet old couple. The grandpa stood there uncertainly, fiddling with the hem of his vest. Derrick took a step toward them.

“Did you hear me?” he said.

“Yeah, I heard you, Derrick,” Melanie said, spitting his name with all the contempt she could muster. “Why are you overreacting? Is it such a big deal to give a gallon of gas to these people so they don’t get stranded somewhere?”

“We’re not doing it,” he said. “Get back in the truck.”

“Hey, we agreed to come with you to help find Nathan,” Melanie reminded him. “We’re in this together, remember? Don’t treat me like a pest.”

Instead of replying, he marched to the driver’s door of his truck. Lizzy uttered a little squeak and backed out of his way. For a second, Melanie was sure he was about to leave her there.

That’s what I get for standing my ground, she thought. She glanced at the old man beside her and gave him an apologetic shrug, which he returned with a sad smile. However, Derrick didn’t do his strange little backward insertion into the truck. Instead, he reached down and grabbed something. Melanie didn’t see what it was until he raised his hand. He’d drawn the handgun out of the door holster, and now he aimed it directly at the old woman in the passenger seat. She whimpered and ducked down.

“You two get out of here,” he said. “I know a scam when I see it. Go on!”

The old man sputtered, trying to reply, and finally shrugged and shuffled back toward the driver’s door. Melanie was shocked, but she was also getting increasingly furious. In a fit of willful boldness, she marched to the back of the truck and grabbed the jerry can.

“You’re being disgusting,” she said to Derrick. “Pointing a gun at an old couple like this. Go ahead and leave me if you want, Derrick. At this point, I don’t even care. I’m giving them the gas, and I’ll pay you back later.”

He held the gun at the open passenger window, baring yellow teeth at the old woman. Melanie had a moment of fierce self-doubt. She was pushing him too far. Wanting to defuse the situation, without giving in, she turned to him, jerry can in hand.

“It’s not a big deal,” she said, trying to speak softly. “Let me give them the gas, and then we can all go our separate ways. You’ve got other cans in the back of the truck. It’s not a big deal.”

The old man climbed into the Monte Carlo and pulled his door shut. When Derrick didn’t speak after a couple of seconds, Melanie walked to the back seat of the car and tested the door. It was unlocked, and she opened it. Before setting the can inside, she gave Derrick a questioning look. With a sigh, and a huge roll of his shoulders, he lowered the gun.

“Okay, whatever,” he said. “Just hurry up, so we can go.”

A glimmer of reasonableness! Melanie knew she’d better seize the moment. She set the jerry can on the floorboard of the back seat, just as the old man started the engine.

“We didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” the old woman said.

“You didn’t,” Melanie replied. “Just get out of here. Take the gas and good luck. There’s at least two gallons in there, maybe three.”

Without another word, the old man put the car in Drive and drove away, moving deeper into the residential neighborhood. Finally, Melanie rounded on Derrick, who was actually looking kind of sheepish now and staring at his feet.

“Really?” Melanie said. “You pointed a gun at an eighty-year-old grandma over two gallons of gas?”

“I thought they were running a scam,” he said, jamming the gun back into the holster. “We have to be careful now. People will be up to all sorts of shady business when they’re desperate, and maybe the next old couple you see will have run out of options. Anyway, it’s done. You got your way, didn’t you? They took the whole can and everything. Now, can we go?” He waved her toward the open door.

“Yeah, we can go,” she muttered in reply.

As he stepped aside, she climbed into the back seat, feeling deeply shaken by the interaction. She climbed over the toolbox and the mountain of junk and took her seat. In the front, Lizzy had dug her asthma pump out of her pants pocket, and she was trying to take a hit off it. Lizzy had had really bad childhood asthma. It was much better now, but moments of extreme stress could induce an attack. She sucked on the pump a few times before cursing, smacking it against her palm, and dropping it in her lap.

“It’s empty,” she said. “Remind me to get another one from my purse when we get back to the factory.”

Before Melanie could reply, Derrick slammed the driver’s door so hard, it made the whole truck shudder. Then he smacked the steering wheel again and reached for the keys. Melanie considered saying something to Derrick. His ridiculous overreaction with the old couple deserved to be addressed. Lizzy clearly felt the same way, as she kept glancing in his direction, scowling at him. The boss seemed oblivious, however, glaring darkly out the windshield as he guided the truck back onto the access road and headed to Knoxville. Whatever he’d been looking for at that house, he apparently hadn’t found it.

It’s not worth talking to him about it, she thought. He won’t listen, and you know it.

10

Pulling onto their street, seeing their nice two-story home sitting there in the shade of the big dogwood tree, Mark felt a rush of relief. Indeed, the house looked so normal, it almost felt surreal after the crazy drive home. Shona was still hugging her backpack for all it was worth. Mark was worried that there would be long-term consequences from the day’s violence, and he made a mental note to schedule a special session with his daughter’s therapist as soon as it became physically possible.

“We’re here,” he told her. “We’re home, and it’s still in one piece.”

She had her eyes squeezed shut. “It’s still in one piece? What does that mean?”

“Just a little joke,” he replied.

He slowed and pulled into the driveway. They kept a nice home. Much of this was Melanie’s doing. She’d been raised in such a run-down roach-infested dump (her words), that she liked to keep everything nice and clean. Though it was a middle-class home, they had a lawncare guy who came by weekly, so the landscaping looked stunning most of the time.

Without thinking, Mark reached above his visor and tapped the button for the garage door opener, but it didn’t respond. Instead, he parked close to the door and set the emergency brake. He hesitated there a minute. What if he shut off the engine, and the car never started again? Already, he’d seen stalled vehicles on the road. The CME seemed to be playing a capricious little game, decimating electronics in an unpredictable manner.

“Is Mom here?” Shona asked, finally daring to raise her head and open her eyes.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Mark replied. “We may need to go and get her. Come on. Let’s go inside, and we’ll figure it out.”

He got out of the car and looked up and down the street. Their neighborhood seemed peaceful by comparison, but he could hear the chaos of the city beyond it: sirens, cars honking, raised voices, screaming. It was a haunting background to their picture-perfect home. Mark grabbed his briefcase out of the back seat and hurried to the front door.

As he unlocked the door, he heard Shona get out of the car. She approached the front door still clutching her backpack in front of her, half hiding her face with it. Mark wanted to believe Melanie had gotten a ride home. Maybe she was already inside, curled up on the couch and taking a nap after a stressful day. However, when he stepped into the dim foyer and into the absolute silence of an empty house, he knew she wasn’t there. Still, he had to make sure.

“Hon? Are you here?” he called.

As he crossed the foyer and entered the living room, he pulled out his phone, intending to call her. In the corner of the screen, it said, “No Service.” He tried to call anyway, to no avail. Two dozen text messages from his scientist group chat were still sitting unread, and he opened them just for the heck of it.

Transformers exploding across the country, the first one read. The worst of it is still on the way. When it gets here, everything’s going down forever. Mark my words.

Mark entered the dining room and dumped his briefcase and phone on the table. Shona came up behind him and sat down at the table, rocking back and forth. Wanting to comfort her, he reached out and patted the top of her head, as he had done when she was little. This time, she just flinched.

“I wish Mom would hurry up and get home,” she said.

“I know,” Mark replied. “Me too.”

He left his daughter there and made a quick pass through the house, checking the den and the master bedroom to make sure Melanie wasn’t in either of those locations. The house was empty. He wouldn’t just sit there and wait to see if she showed up. If something happened to her on the road, he would never forgive himself for not going after her. No, the only sensible thing to do was to load up the car and set out toward Beaton’s. He knew the route she took to and from work. If she was broken down somewhere along the way, he was likely to spot her. Time was ticking. According to the group messages, the worst of the CME was impending, and when it hit, there might not be any functioning electronics anywhere in North America.

As he made his way back to the dining room, Mark began making a mental list of everything he wanted to bring with them. They needed to be prepared for anything they might encounter out there, as well as the very real possibility that the car would stop working at some point. When he stepped into the dining room, he found Shona with her head bent over the table. Her eyes and mouth were both wide open in a look of abject horror, and Mark realized she was reading a message on his phone.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

He reached for the phone, but she turned away, moving it out of reach. “Dad, you’ve got all these messages from other teachers and scientists and stuff.”

“You shouldn’t be reading my phone,” he said, and this time he lunged and got the phone out of her hands.

“A notification popped up on the screen,” she said. She had that same breathless quality that usually indicated she was close to panicking. “It said there were thirty-four messages.”

“Did you read them?”

“A few,” she said, slumping onto the tabletop, propping her cheek with her hand. “It’s worse than you told me. All of your friends are freaking out. They’re talking like it’s the end of the world. Is it true?”

Mark slowly sat down beside her. He had indeed softened the blow, not wanting to terrify her when people were already out of control. But she deserved to know. Shona wasn’t a child anymore. Anyway, the cat was out of the bag. If he kept trying to hide the truth from her now, she would only resent him. Still, he weighed his words carefully.

“It’s not the end of the world,” he said, “but it’s bad. The worst of it hasn’t hit us yet. When it does, things are going to get a lot worse. That’s true.”

“What is it?” she asked. “You called it a solar event, but what is it really?”

“A coronal mass ejection is a burst of plasma from the sun,” he said. “They happen frequently, but usually they either miss the earth or they’re so small, they don’t do anything. This one is historically big—unprecedented in size, actually. Because it’s bathed in a magnetic field, it wreaks havoc on electronic systems, and that’s what’s happening right now across North America. It’s currently building like a crescendo.”

“Will it kill everyone?” she said.

“No, it will just damage electronics,” he said, choosing not to extrapolate from that out loud. “Now, look, why don’t we go and pick up your mom, and we’ll all get through this together, okay?”

“You sound a lot calmer than your friends,” Shona said. “They’re all freaking out.”

“Well, I won’t lie to you,” he said. “This is going to be serious. The damage will be extensive, but we can handle it. We just need to stick together, stay calm, and deal with problems as they come. Now, I’m going to gather a few things, and then we’ll hit the road.”

“I hope ‘a few things’ includes a gun,” Shona said, sitting up.

“Of course. Get anything from your room that you want to bring. We need to hit the road really soon. Mom is waiting.”

Mark rose and went to the den. He had a large gun case in a corner beside the bookshelves. They kept a .22 rifle, a Beretta PX4, and a Glock 19. Of the options, Mark felt safest with the Glock. It was a comfortable handgun, easy to use. He grabbed the holster first and clipped it to his belt. Then he pulled the handgun off its shelf and gave it a quick inspection. A loaded magazine was stored in a separate locked compartment of the gun case, so he retrieved it and slid it into the holster. The he grabbed the Beretta and put that in his jacket pocket. The PX4 was a compact gun in its own leather holster, perfect for a pocket.

Next, he opened the small safe at the bottom of the gun case, revealing boxes of ammunition. He grabbed a box of 9mm bullets and put it in the other jacket pocket. Slamming the gun case shut, he turned to see his daughter watching him from the doorway. She nodded, clearly reassured by his weapon choices.

Mark reached into his pocket, holding the PX4, debating with himself for a moment. Finally, he pulled the gun out. “Would you be willing to carry one of the guns?” he asked. He hated to ask this of his fifteen-year-old daughter, but under the circumstances, he was afraid it might prove necessary. “I hope you won’t have to use it, but we’ve already seen how people can act.”

Without hesitation, she nodded and strode forward, holding out her hand. “I had a gun safety class with Mom, remember?”

He hesitated a second, then handed her the Beretta. “I trust you to use this only if it’s absolutely necessary.”

“I know,” she replied. “Dad, I feel a lot less nervous when you don’t hide the danger from me. I hate the unknown more than anything. Okay?”

“I know,” he said. “I just don’t want you to expect the worst.”

“The worst would be all of us getting burned to death by the sun,” she said. “You already said that’s not going to happen, so…there you go.” She shrugged. “Can we go get Mom now?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “Let’s grab a couple more things and get out of here.”

11

Nathan sometimes wished he could just turn invisible, so no one could see him or look at him, especially when he was in a mood like this. It felt awkward walking down the road by himself, and he knew people were glancing at him as they drove by, wondering why this scrawny kid was all alone. He couldn’t wait until he had his own car, so he could drive anywhere he wanted whenever he wanted to.

It was getting chilly, and he’d only brought a light jacket. He zipped it up, but that didn’t help much. He tried stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of the jacket, but that didn’t help either. Ahead, the road passed a shopping center, and he gazed at the storefronts as he drew near. Nothing interesting there. Even a Dollar Store would have been nice. He could have stopped in for a snack to make the long walk go by faster.

Of course, Nathan was no fool. He knew his dad would come looking for him eventually, but he had a route mapped out in his head. As long as he had enough time to get past this shopping center and to the next set of houses, he could turn off and go a way Dad wouldn’t expect. It would add a bit of additional time to the long walk, but so what? Dad would assume he was pouting, but Nathan was making long-term plans. He was going to walk all the way to his father’s house so he could get his stuff and then head to Mom’s. And he didn’t care if it took him all evening. He’d had enough.

He doesn’t even like me, Nathan thought. Why does he insist on keeping me around? Is it just for show? Does he enjoy having control over my life? Is it just a middle finger to Mom?

Nathan couldn’t figure it out. As he approached the parking lot of the shopping center, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. No calls from his dad yet. That was a good sign. The old man was still too busy to notice his son had disappeared like a dust mote in a strong wind. Nathan smiled at his own clever metaphor. Then he shut off his phone for good measure and stuffed it back in his pocket. He noted that it was closing in on 4 p.m. It would be fully dark by the time he got to his mom’s house.

The backpack strained at his shoulders. Nathan didn’t have much upper body strength to begin with, and lugging all of his stuff around in a Jansport backpack was going to be a pain. Still worth it. Anything to get away from “Derrick.”

He can’t be my dad, Nathan thought, not for the first time in his life. We’re nothing alike. I don’t look like him, act like him, and we don’t even like each other. Come on, Mom. Tell me there was some other guy in the picture—the mailman, the pizza delivery guy, anyone!

A sudden loud crackle broke him out of this train of thought. Nathan looked for the source and saw a brilliant shower of sparks shooting out of a transformer at the corner of the shopping center just ahead of him. He froze in his tracks. A car that had been about to pass him came to a screeching halt as the sparks rained down on the street. Suddenly, the lights of the shopping center signs went out.

Nathan glanced around, thinking he might find some cause or explanation for this. Cars had stopped on the access road, but some of them began to move again. A little white Camry pulled out of the parking lot. Unsettled, Nathan resumed walking, but now he noticed a small flame licking up the side of the transformer. That made him nervous, since he would have to walk by the thing, so he broke into a sprint.

Just as he passed the electric pole that held the transformer, the little flame became a roaring fire. Somewhere in the distance, Nathan heard what sounded like an argument breaking out. People fighting in the parking lot, perhaps. He didn’t look back. Instead, he kept running until he was well past the fire. When he finally stumbled to a stop, holding the straps of his backpack, he was completely out of breath. He bent over, panting.

Once he caught his breath, he stood back up—just in time to see the little white car veer wildly into the oncoming lane. A truck coming from the other direction didn’t even have time to react. The two vehicles plowed into each other, left headlight to left headlight. Their hoods folded upward, and they did a weird little spin-dance together, coming to rest across the opposing lanes, the truck steaming.

Nathan stood there a moment, shocked. People began piling out of the white car. An entire family, they gathered on the opposite shoulder, looking utterly confused. The driver was grasping her forehead in her hands. The driver of the truck struggled to get his door open. When he finally did, he immediately began shouting at the woman. Nathan only caught snatches of the ensuing argument.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“It just died on me!”

“What do you mean…?”

“…just died all of a sudden…”

His path was going to take him right past these people. He didn’t want anything to do with it, so he looked for an alternate route. On his right, there was a vast undeveloped field, but he saw a residential neighborhood on the other side. Nathan turned and started across the field, dragging his legs through high grass. If he’d been in shorts, and if it had been a warmer time of year, it would have been a great way to get a thousand chigger bites. And he still might have done it.

He’d gone maybe twenty yards, plowing through the grass by sheer effort, when he finally glanced back. The people still seemed to be arguing, pointing and gesturing, but Nathan saw a couple of police cars approaching from the direction of Knoxville. The fire on the transformer had gotten bigger and was engulfing the entire thing. He also saw people standing around in the shopping center parking lot, as if they were lost or confused.

What is going on around here?

It was the first time he really began to worry. He’d been too lost in his own situation, but everyone seemed to be freaking out now. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, intending to check the local news, but he had no bars. Putting the phone away, he picked up his pace, approaching the residential neighborhood. By the time he got there, he saw police lights flashing back behind him, casting a bright blue across the entire field.

He passed through a side yard between two houses and came out on a major residential road. Off to his left, he saw another fire flickering in the distance. Something else was burning, but it was too far away to see what it was. Nathan stepped onto the road and resumed his long march toward home. He hadn’t gone far when he heard a car moving up behind him. He eased onto the curb, but then the driver honked the horn. It was so darn loud, and so darn close, that he almost jumped out of his skin.

Turning, he saw an old red car stopped right behind him. The passenger window was down, and a gray-haired lady was smiling at him. Nathan froze. Nothing seemed creepy about her, but still, he debated with himself whether or not to flee.

“Young man, you seem lost,” she said. “Do you need a ride?”

Nathan looked down at himself. His pants were pretty filthy after running through the field. Maybe they thought he was homeless? Of course, he should turn down a ride from strangers. He knew that. But it was just so far to his dad’s house. Plus, the old lady looked like a sweet old granny.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said. “I’m just trying to walk to my dad’s house, but there’s another, like, two miles to go.”

“Hop in,” the woman said, patting the outside of her door. “We’ll take you as far as we can.”

Still reluctant, he approached the car and slipped into the back. The interior was immaculate and smelled strongly of some kind of air freshener. The driver was a kindly grandpa-looking guy with a shiny bald head. He gave Nathan a smile and an okay sign from rearview mirror.

“Just tell us where to go,” he said. “You see all the crazy stuff going on out there?”

“Yeah,” Nathan replied, setting his backpack beside him and settling into his seat. “If you go back to the access road and head toward town, you’ll pass my dad’s neighborhood. Magnolia Meadows.”

The old driver turned around and headed back out of the neighborhood, turning onto the access road and heading toward town. Nathan saw what appeared to be parked cars all over the place. Some of them had just stopped in the middle of the road. What was going on?

“We were planning to head out of town and get to our daughter,” the old woman said, “but the gas station back the other way just shut down. All the pumps stopped working.”

“Something weird going on,” the old man added. “You haven’t heard anything, have you? Did we have a power surge or something?”

“I don’t know anything, sir,” Nathan replied. “I was just trying to walk home.”

“Yeah, we couldn’t leave a kid out there on his own with so much going on,” the woman said. “Just didn’t seem right.”

They had to dodge and weave around dead cars, but it was so much faster this way, Nathan was glad he’d accepted the ride. He would have been walking for hours! Finally they came in sight of the familiar entryway, the low brick wall with the bronze-colored sign: Magnolia Meadows.

“That’s it right there,” he said, leaning over the front seat and pointing.

They slowed and pulled onto the shoulder. “I’m afraid we’ll have to drop you off right here,” the old man said. “We’re just so low on gas now. We’re going to have to figure out what to do. Maybe some nice person will help us.”

As soon as they stopped, Nathan opened the door. “Thanks for the ride. Good luck. I hope you find gas.”

“You take care of yourself, young man,” the woman said. “Get inside where it’s safe.”

He waved and dashed off toward the neighborhood. As he approached the gate, the old couple turned and drove back the way they’d come. He felt bad that he’d made them use some of their gas on giving him a ride, but, oh man, he’d saved so much time! Elated, he ran past the gate into his dad’s neighborhood.

I guess there are nice people in the world, he thought.

His father’s house was at the end of a cul-de-sac not far from the gate. He kept the front yard clean and well-maintained to avoid neighbor complaints, but the interior and the backyard were both dumpy. Nathan hated the place. When he finally approached the front door, he felt that familiar skin-crawling sensation of entering the home that never felt like home.

Fortunately, he had his own house key on a chain around his neck. He unlocked the front door and slipped inside, where the dim foyer awaited him with its stacks of cardboard boxes full of junk. Nathan rushed down the hallway, dodging the junk, and headed to his bedroom. He wasted no time dumping out his notebooks and textbooks from his backpack, replacing them with extra clothes, deodorant, his toothbrush, a few comic books, his phone charger, and headphones—all the stuff that really mattered.

Once he was done, he tried to call his mom. She always told him she didn’t want to mess with custody stuff, but maybe she would come and get him under the circumstances. Mom was scared to get into it with Derrick, but surely she wouldn’t want Nathan walking outside all by himself. He retrieved his phone and saw that he still had no bars. He tried to call anyway, but it didn’t get through.

Screw it, he thought, putting his backpack over his shoulders. I’m out of here. I’ll walk to Mom’s, like I planned. Maybe another nice elderly couple will offer me a ride.

And with that, he headed back outside, shoving the house key back under his t-shirt. Even if he had to walk all the way to Mom’s, at least he was away from his dad. That alone made it worthwhile. He walked back down the quiet street and took a left at the intersection, intending to cut through the neighborhood and come out the other side, following a back road toward his mother’s house. He’d made it maybe two blocks before he started to get a strange vibe.

The neighborhood was quiet, and he smelled smoke in the air. None of that explained the crawling sensation that went right down his back. Grabbing the straps of his backpack, he tried to pick up the pace, but the feeling got worse. Finally, he glanced over his shoulder.

A large SUV—he thought it was a Chevy Tahoe—was creeping down the street about half a block back. Its windows were tinted black, and it looked brand new. He thought it had a light bar on top, like a police vehicle, but he couldn’t be sure.

Maybe they’re just going to offer me a ride like the last car, he thought.

But, no, there was something creepy about this. He felt it. Intending to lose them, Nathan stepped off the road and crossed the next yard, passing through the narrow gap between houses. He came out on another street, but just to be safe, he crossed this road and passed another row of houses. Here, he was alone again. No cars, no people in the yards. Nathan breathed a sigh of relief and resumed his course.

It was a sprawling neighborhood full of endless, mismatched houses that were not nearly as beautiful as the homeowners probably thought. Nathan couldn’t wait to be rid of it. He reached a side street, checked to make sure the SUV was nowhere in sight, then took a left. However, he hadn’t gone far when he heard the sound of an engine. Looking back, he spotted the SUV turning onto the road, moving fast with its parking lights on.

Nathan started to cut across the yard on his left, but he quickly realized that the fences connected, blocking the side yard. Heart racing, he took off running down the sidewalk, pulling the straps of his backpack tight so it wouldn’t flop around. The SUV sped up. He heard a squeal of tires, and he saw the yellow light growing around him.

What do I do? What do I do?

All of the houses were dark, but maybe someone was home. Nathan stumbled to a stop and turned toward the nearest house. He ran across the yard and hopped up onto the porch. It was a deep shadowy porch with double doors. The welcome mat depicted a flock of happy little birds. Nathan pounded on the door.

“Help me,” he said, out of breath. “Someone, let me in!”

Footsteps approached from behind him, hard soles on the sidewalk. Nathan pressed the doorbell button repeatedly, though he heard nothing from inside. Then he resumed pounding on the door.

“Well, look what we found.” A cold, quiet voice from behind him.

Nathan spun around and saw two men standing there. Behind them, the SUV idled at the curb, the back passenger door wide open. One of the men had a big mustache. The other was tall and thin, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. Nathan heard his own ragged breathing echoing in his head.

Who are they? What do they want? He couldn’t even begin to formulate an answer to this question. The whole situation seemed unreal.

Panicking, he ran at them, intending to squeeze past and run back the way he’d come. As he approached, they stepped aside, as if they were going to let him go. However, just as he passed by, one of them reached down and snagged his arm, letting his momentum swing him around and right into the arms of the other man.

“Let me go,” Nathan cried. “Why are you doing this? What did I do wrong?”

But the man clamped a hand over his mouth, wrapped an arm around his chest, and hoisted him off the ground. Nathan kicked and flailed, trying to break free, but the man was big and strong. It was futile, and he was dragged toward the SUV, and the terrible darkness beyond the gaping door.

12

Melanie could tell Lizzy’s asthma was escalating by the way she began rocking in her seat. She was making a high whistling sound when she tried to draw breath. Derrick had left the residential neighborhood, turning back onto the access road and heading toward town. Ahead, the road passed another small shopping center, where a group of people had gathered in the parking lot and seemed to be arguing.

“Is she going to make it or what?” Derrick said, swiping a hand in the direction of Lizzy without looking at her. “What’s going on over there?”

“She has asthma,” Melanie replied.

Lizzy was bent forward, one hand clutching at the collar of her blouse, the other shaking the inhaler. Melanie could tell she was edging toward panic.

“Sounds like she’s hyperventilating,” Derrick said. “Tell her to slow down, take deep breaths, or she’s going to pass out.”

“That’s not how asthma works,” Melanie said. She laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Liz, try to take another hit off the inhaler. Maybe you can get just a little more medicine out of there if you keep pressing it.”

Lizzy shook her head, but she tried anyway. She popped the inhaler in her mouth and pressed it repeatedly, but it was empty. They were approaching the entrance to the parking lot now, and Melanie realized the shopping center had a small grocery store with a pharmacy. Though the power was clearly off inside the building, people were milling about the doors, which were propped open.

“Turn in here,” Melanie said to Derrick, pointing to the shopping center.

“Why?”

“They have a pharmacy. Liz can get a refill on her inhaler.”

“They’re not going to sell you anything with the power off like this,” Derrick said.

“They will if it’s an emergency.” He hadn’t slowed the truck, so she added, “Either we pull in here, or we rush back to the factory and get her purse. Otherwise, we’re about to have a medical emergency.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Derrick muttered. But he whipped into the parking lot, cutting the corner too tightly so that the back tire thumped over the curve.

“It’s not like she chose to have an asthma attack just to annoy you,” Melanie said.

“I get it. Just hurry up.”

Driving just a little too fast, he cut across the parking lot, weaved around the big cluster of people, and pulled into a handicapped parking space near the front door. Melanie decided not to fight him over this.

“I’ll stay here with the truck,” Derrick said. “Just get what you need and hurry back. People around here don’t look friendly.”

Indeed, the people crowded around the doors, both employees and customers, seemed locked in a heated argument. Some of them were clutching paper grocery bags. As they argued, another person pushed past them, clutching a case of beer. He gave a quick guilty look over his shoulder before taking off running across the parking lot. Employees didn’t seem to notice.

“Liz, can you walk in there?” Melanie asked.

“Yeah,” Lizzy replied, opening her door.

She stepped outside, and Melanie following, grabbing her purse.

“Since you’re going in the store,” Derrick said, one hand on the steering wheel, “why don’t you grab some other stuff we might need. You know, maybe fresh water, I don’t know. Just grab some stuff. I always like to add to my stash, you know what I mean?”

“I don’t have much cash on me,” Melanie replied, “and I doubt their card readers are working.”

“Doesn’t seem like that matters much,” Derrick said, pointing toward a rather large woman who was pushing a grocery cart filled with unbagged items away from the doors. An employee shook a fist and yelled for her to come back, but didn’t give chase. “I think the free-for-all has begun.”

“I’ll think about it,” Melanie said. “We mostly just need Lizzy’s medicine. Just don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Derrick said. “You better be careful in there. Things seem tense. Want to take one of my guns?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the multiple gun racks.

“No, that’s okay. Might make things worse.”

“Being able to shoot back never makes thing worse,” Derrick said. “Get your priorities straight.”

Melanie shut the passenger door, put her arm around Lizzy, and guided her friend toward the front doors. One of the doors was currently blocked by an increasingly hostile group of people. A grocery store manager and an older gentleman with a prodigious gut were shouting at each other, inches away from inadvertently kissing.

“You can always take cash,” the old man said, red-faced to the point that he seemed to be melting from within. “Even without power, it’s still legal tender in all fifty states!”

“The systems are offline, sir.” The manager managed to turn the word sir into a profanity, spitting it out of his mouth like it was a bad bite from a piece of rotten fruit. “We have to wait until they come back online, sir. You can’t just throw money on the counter and walk out of the store.”

“I didn’t throw it. I placed it!”

Melanie led Lizzy well clear of the mob, approaching the next door, which had been propped open with a shopping cart. As they stepped inside, where the building was dim and stuffy, she heard hostile voices coming from all over the place. Straight ahead, a woman in a crop top was shouting at a cowering cashier and shaking a fist in the air.

“Are you okay?” Melanie asked Lizzy. “Maybe you should wait in the truck. Things seem tense.”

“I’d rather stick with you,” Lizzy replied, wheezing. “Let’s just get what we need and go.”

Melanie spotted a sign hanging from the ceiling with the big word PHARMACY in green letters. She headed in that direction, trying to avoid people as best she could. However, as she passed an aisle, she heard the sound of many large objects being dumped into a shopping cart. Glancing to her right, she saw a man in the process of sweeping an entire shelf of water bottles into his cart, as another woman heaved a carton of beer into hers. Behind them, two other men were shouting at each other over the soft drinks.

“People are already going nuts,” Melanie noted. “What is the deal here?”

“Maybe they have the right idea,” Lizzy replied. “Maybe we should load up on stuff while we’re here.” She started to say more, but she was struggling to take a deep breath. The words just sort of trailed off.

“Are you suggesting we loot the Kroger?” Melanie said. “I’m shocked!”

“Well?”

Yet Melanie wasn’t sure her friend was wrong. Everywhere they looked, people were tearing items off the shelves. As she came in sight of the pharmacy, she saw that the whole area in front of the counter had already been ravaged. A store employee was sitting on the ground, nursing a fat lip, as a tough-looking guy in a muscle shirt shoved fistfuls of over-the-counter pills into a cloth sack. When he noticed Melanie, he scowled at her, a sharp chin jutting out to reveal the bottom row of teeth.

Melanie quickly diverted around him, trying to approach the pharmacy counter from a different direction. She pulled Lizzy gently by the arm. However, as she approached the register, she saw a body on the floor. Another employee was curled up around a nest of scattered pills, blood spattering the floor around him.

Just then, a wail of either terror or pain carried across the entire store, and Melanie flinched, pushing her friend behind the counter. She looked for the source of the sound, but it seemed to be coming from some other part of the building. However, it made her hyper-aware of all of the terrible sounds coming at them from various directions. She saw two women locked in a brutal, hair-pulling fight near the diapers. One had already lost a sleeve, the other a shoe.

“I don’t want to be here,” Lizzy said. “Can we hurry and go?”

“Of course.” Melanie hated to do it, but she stepped over the body behind the counter and moved into the pharmacy. Already this place had been picked over, and bottles and bags were strewn about. Still, a few things remained. Surely, the looters hadn’t come here to load up on asthma medicine. “You know how to find your specific medication?”

Lizzy nodded, both hands pressed to a spot just above her sternum. Her wheezing was getting worse. She started down the aisle, stumbling on the small plastic bottles that were all over the floor. As Melanie moved to follow her, she heard a sudden strange bark from behind her. Looking back, she saw the guy in the muscle shirt approaching the register, the overloaded sack hanging heavily from his left fist.

“I’ll tell you what I told the last guy,” he said. His neck was as thick as his head. He looked like he broke brick walls with his forehead for fun. “I’ve claimed the pharmacy already. Get out.” He flicked a hand in their direction, as if shooing away a fly. He had short, blunt fingers like steel bolts.

“You can have it,” Melanie said. He didn’t seem to have a weapon on him. He was wearing loose shorts, but she didn’t see any obvious sign of a gun or large knife. Then again, his knuckles seemed dangerous enough. “We just need one thing, and then we’ll be out of your way.”

“I said it’s mine,” he snapped. With his free hand, he flipped the cash register. It did a fancy spin in the air, hit the edge of the counter, and toppled over the other side. With a crack, it hit the floor inches from the prone man’s head. “It’s all mine. Get out.”

“Okay. Got it. Let me get my friend.”

Keeping an eye on the seething rage-o-holic, Melanie backed toward Lizzy, trying to find a makeshift weapon somewhere nearby. Lizzy was already rooting through boxes on a shelf.

“Tell me you found it,” Melanie said, trying to speak quietly enough that the bruiser wouldn’t overhear.

“This is what I need,” Lizzy said, picking up a small box. “Levalbuterol. Am I just supposed to take it? I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”

“I’ll toss money on the counter,” Melanie said. “I hear they like that sort of thing around here. Let’s just go.”

Lizzy slid a single box of medicine into her pocket, but Melanie motioned for her to take more. “Get all of it. Otherwise, someone else is going to take it.”

The bruiser had been glaring at her over the counter, but he finally tossed his overfull sack onto the floor and hopped up onto the countertop. The man clearly didn’t skip leg day. He had calf muscles like bundles of taut steel wire.

“I told you to get out,” he shouted, the rough skin of his face tightening. “Don’t your ears work, ladies?”

“We’re going,” Melanie replied, stepping in front of Lizzy to shield her.

“Whatever you just took off the shelf, put it back,” he said, jabbing a finger in her direction. “It’s all mine now. I claimed it. It belongs to Travis Bell. Got it? Drop my stuff and get out before I pop you right in the mouth like the other girl.”

Melanie glanced back to make sure Lizzy had loaded up on levalbuterol. Both pockets of her jacket were bulging. Good. Now, they just had to somehow get past Mr. Roid Rage. She wasn’t sure whether to match his ferocity, try flattery, or just run. She didn’t have long to think about it. He was advancing on them, bowed up and bent over like he was ready to tear them apart.

“We’ll pay you,” she said. “Name your price.”

“I know how women like you pay,” he said, “and I don’t want it. I can do better.”

It took Melanie a second to realize what he was referring to, and when she did, she felt disgust. It had been the furthest thing from her mind. She’d only meant to offer him the cash in her wallet. Furious, she reached toward the nearest shelf, scarcely considering her own actions, and picked up a rather large box of pills. She flung it at him. Clearly surprised, he flinched and raised his hands, and the box bounced off his forearm.

Melanie turned to Lizzy and pushed her toward the back of the aisle. “Go around to the other aisle. Let’s get past this guy.”

Her pockets bulging, Lizzy stumbled down the aisle. Though it ended at a blank wall, there was a gap at the end that gave access to the aisles on either side. Lizzy headed left, as Melanie came after her.

“Oh, that’s it,” their attacker said. “I gave you plenty of chances to get out of my area. Now, we’re in it!”

She heard him coming, the thump-thump of heavy footfalls and stocky legs. As she rounded the aisle, Lizzy stopped suddenly and backed into her. Their attacker had anticipated their new course and moved to cut them off. Melanie reached into the nearest shelf, grabbed up some boxes of medication and flung them at the guy, but this time he simply batted them away.

“Go, run for it,” Melanie said, sliding Lizzy past her and pushing her toward the next aisle. “He can’t go after both of us at the same time.”

“No, I…”

Lizzy started to protest, but the bruiser was coming fast. With a little squeak, she rushed past Melanie toward the next aisle. The bruiser hesitated a second, as if debating with himself which person to go after. In the end, he settled on Melanie and rushed forward, closing the gap. He had a weird, wide gait, stepping out as he stepped forward. It made him seem like an animal. As he approached, he clenched both fists and raised them.

Melanie froze. Off to her right, she heard Lizzy running back across the pharmacy.

I just need to buy her a few seconds to get away, Melanie thought.

Anticipating a punch, she braced herself, clenching her jaw. The man was big enough that she knew a single punch might knock her unconscious, so she raised an arm to deflect it from her face. Instead of punching, however, the bruiser reached out and grabbed her shoulders, fingers digging in so sharply that she cried out in pain.

“You have no idea who you’re messing with,” he said.

It was such a clichéd thing to say that she almost laughed at him, but he was pushing her simultaneously backward and down, as if to force her onto the floor. She stumbled on some of the loose rolling bottles and almost fell. Fortunately, she no longer heard Lizzy, so she assumed her friend had gotten away,

“We just needed medicine for my friend,” Melanie said.

“Well, you took it from me,” he said. He smelled awful up close, ripe as a rotting armpit. “And now you’re going to pay for it.”

She noted his wide stance then and saw her escape. As he pressed her up against the wall, she braced herself, careful not to lose her balance. Then she kicked as hard as she could with her right foot. He’d made the target easily accessible, and the toe of her thick-soled sneaker went right between his thighs. She felt her target sort of crumple inward against the sneaker, and the bruiser immediately shrieked. He released his hold on her and stumbled backward, grabbing himself down there with both hands.

“I’ll kill you for that,” he said, then shrieked again. “I’ll kill you!”

And then an enormous black object came up and over, slamming down on top of his head. Only as the bruiser collapsed in a heap did Melanie realize it was the cash register. He slammed onto the floor on his back, scattering bottles in all directions, and the cash register came to rest beside him.

“That got him,” Lizzy said.

Melanie saw her friend standing at the other end of the aisle, gasping for breath and massaging her forearm. She stepped over the bruiser and rushed to her friend, embracing her.

“You should have kept running,” Melanie said.

“Don’t say silly things,” Lizzy replied. “We took care of him together. He’s out cold. Let’s go.”

Lizzy pulled out of the embrace and made her way out of the pharmacy. Melanie followed, sparing a final glance at the still form of the man behind her. Had they killed him? It was a troubling thought. Had they already been reduced to killing people in order to survive? She didn’t care for the possibility.

Ahead, in the diaper aisle, the brawl between the women had grown into a larger-scale fight, with ten people now locked in a scrum, cursing and slapping at each other. One of the women had fallen, and Melanie saw her on the ground amidst the stomping feet.

“Two hours ago, these were all normal people,” she said. “Now they’re fighting like junkyard dogs. It sure didn’t take long for everyone to lose their minds.”

She guided her friend back through the grocery store, avoiding people as best she could. However, a larger brawl had broken out in front of the line of cash registers. A man with a full shopping cart was attempting to push his way to the door, as a couple of workers blocked him, and an assortment of others gathered around.

There will be other guys like the bruiser, she thought. I can’t feel bad about defending myself and my loved ones. Otherwise, I might hesitate in a moment of need.

It was a realization that made her shudder. She could accept the brutality of the situation—and she was fairly certain she could act accordingly—but she didn’t feel good about it.

“Come on,” she said, putting a hand against her friend’s back. “We’re getting out of here. I don’t care how many crazy people stand between us and the door.”

13

Slipping past the crowd around the cash registers felt a little like trying to complete a physical challenge in a game show. The knot of hostile people was moving back and forth, carried like a pendulum by the shifting violence. Melanie grabbed Lizzy’s upper arm and held her back, waiting until the violence swung out from in front of the door. As soon as the opening reappeared, she rushed forward, pulling her friend with her. As they passed by the crowd, the great swell of shouting and cursing voices rolled over them.

“It’s a matter of survival,” a man was shouting. “We saw the news! We know what’s coming. We all have to survive now!”

“But you can’t just step over everyone else, idiot,” said a woman in shrill reply. “You can still be civil!”

“Not where my family is concerned! Heck, no!”

Melanie managed to slip past them, just as two men in the crowd starting flailing fists at each other. She went through the door, circled well clear of another crowd on the sidewalk, and headed for the truck. Derrick was sitting behind the wheel, holding one of his handguns so it was visible through the windshield. When he saw them, he beckoned with the gun.

Still wheezing, Lizzy made her way to the passenger door and pulled it open. Melanie climbed into the back. As soon as both women were in their seats, while the door was still wide open, Derrick put the truck in reverse and roared away from the grocery store. When he hit the brakes, the change in momentum swung the door closed. Then he put it in Drive and hurried away.

“Man, I thought I was going to have to open fire on those people,” he muttered, heading back down the road. “They were getting closer and closer. What took so long?”

“We had to kill someone,” Lizzy said as she ripped the foil open to a new inhaler.

Melanie was shocked that she said it so matter-of-factly, but Derrick looked at her with a weird little smile on his face. He almost seemed proud of them.

“Gotta do what you gotta do,” he said.

“We don’t know that he’s dead,” Melanie clarified. “We left him in the pharmacy on the floor.”

“Bashed in his head with a cash register,” Lizzy added. She took a hit off her inhaler, breathing deeply, then sighed and collapsed back in her seat.

Derrick nodded, clearly satisfied, as he turned down the access road and headed toward town. “Speaking of doing what you gotta do,” he said, tapping the glass over his fuel gauge. “We’re getting real close to empty here.”

“We don’t have enough to get to town first?” Melanie asked.

“Maybe,” he replied, “but not enough to get all the way back to the factory. It’s only going to get harder to get gas if we wait.”

“You have another five-gallon jerry can in the back of the truck,” she reminded him.

“The other can’s only got maybe a gallon in it,” he said, then added, in a sour voice, “Anyway that’s for handing over to the next random old people who happen to catch our eye. I’m filling up the tank, if I can.”

He pointed down the road to a small gas station and convenience store. The place was packed with vehicles and people. Melanie didn’t like the look of it.

“This doesn’t seem like a smart idea,” she said. “That elderly couple said getting gas is nearly impossible.”

“For a couple in their eighties, yeah, maybe so,” he replied. “For me, not so much. Look, you had to go in that grocery store. It wasn’t safe, but you needed medicine. Now, I need gas, so whatever the situation, I’m pulling in at the Weigel’s there, and I’m filling up. Do you want to get to your family and bring them to safety?”

“Of course.”

“Then we need gas,” he said. “That’s how this works. You do whatever’s necessary. Got it?”

“Got it.”

And indeed, she knew he was right. Of course. But she was already anxious and trembly from their experience in the grocery store. As they approached the gas station, she saw angry people gathered around the pumps. They appeared to be arguing with a couple of employees, who were gesturing wildly.

“We can’t even approach the pumps with all those people in the way,” she said.

“Then we need to figure out a way to make them move,” he said.

Lizzy took another hit off her inhaler. “Scare them off somehow,” she said. “Pretend like you’re going to run them over.”

Derrick grinned a bit but shook his head. “Nah, if any of them are armed, that’s likely to get us shot,” he said.

Melanie wracked her brain, trying to think of some way to get all of these people to leave. Some of the pumps were open. They just needed all the shouting people to go away. She didn’t want to hurt any of them. Their frustration was understandable.

“A fire,” she said. “An explosion. Not something that’ll hurt anyone, just a loud noise to scare them away. We could use the gas can in the back of your truck.”

“I told you, there’s only maybe a gallon in there,” he said. “It won’t make a big enough boom.” He tipped his nub of a chin. “But…I have a propane tank back there. If we light it off and toss it near the gas station, they’ll scatter like cockroaches.”

Melanie felt a squirming unease at the prospect, but she didn’t have time to come up with anything better. She glanced out the back window and spotted the propane tank nestled amidst the junk in the bed of the truck.

“You know how to make a propane tank explode?” he asked.

“I can figure it out.”

He pulled into the gas station. Some of the people in the crowd saw him coming and waved him away, cursing and yelling.

“We were here first,” a young man said. “Go away.”

“Wait,” Melanie said. “We need to chase the people away first.”

Derrick shook the handgun and thrust his door open. “I’ll try the direct approach first. You work on the propane tank. Don’t get yourself killed in the explosion.”

And with that, he stepped out of the truck and approached the crowd. Lizzy gave Melanie a panicked look.

“Folks, you’re blocking the pumps,” Derrick said. “I’m going to need you to shift your fight about ten yards to the left.”

“Shut up, fatso,” one of the men said. “Get out of here. This guy is trying to jack up prices, but we got dibs! We were here first!”

Melanie slid toward the driver’s door, her heart racing.

“What are you going to do?” Lizzy said.

“Scare these people off before they kill the boss,” she said.

Scarcely thinking, she got out of the truck, moving low, and headed to the back. Derrick was in a shouting match with the crowd now. They sounded like they were seconds away from violence.

“Don’t threaten me with that,” Derrick said. “I’m armed, too, buddy. Just move aside and let me fill up the tank.”

“We’re not going nowhere,” came the reply.

“Get back in your truck now,” said another. “You got about three seconds, gordo feo. We were here first, I said.”

Melanie acted without fully thinking. Digging into her purse, she pulled out a small green Bic lighter. Then she reached into the bed of the truck and grabbed the can of gasoline. It was mostly empty, but she could feel some fuel sloshing around in the bottom. She set it on the ground, then grabbed the small propane tank. It felt full. Good.

What I’m about to do seems really dumb, she thought. But Derrick had forced her hand. It was this or nothing.

Holding the lighter between her teeth, she dragged the jerry can and propane tank into the ditch beside the road. When she glanced up, she saw a wide-eyed Lizzy staring at her through the back window, both hands grasping her headrest. The argument around the pumps was getting more intense, and Melanie heard what she thought might have been sounds of a scuffle. Had Derrick already been dragged into a fistfight?

She didn’t bother to look. Better to get this done as fast as possible. She quickly unscrewed the cap on the jerry can and tipped it over. Gasoline sloshed out onto the grass. Then she flicked the lighter and thrust it into the fumes. This caused an immediate pop, as the gasoline fumes combusted. Melanie felt heat against her hand and face, and she stumbled backward.

The ditch was weedy and overgrown, and the grass immediately began to burn, flames licking up the sides of the jerry can. Hosting the propane tank up, Melanie tossed it into the flames. It landed on the jerry can, crushing in the side. She didn’t know if this would actually work or not. It wasn’t a well-formulated plan, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. As the flames gushed up around the propane tank, Melanie ran back to the truck. On the way, she caught a glimpse of Derrick and another guy—a young man in a filthy t-shirt. They were grappling with each other, shoving back and forth. Judging by the angry looks on the rest of crowd, the others were mostly on the young man’s side.

“I said get out of here,” the young man said. “We got here first.”

“I’m not going anywhere, punk,” Derrick replied, thrusting his prodigious gut into the young man. This sent him flying into the rest of the crowd. “Get out of my way.”

The young man landed hard on the pavement in front of one of the pumps. A couple of people reached down to help him up, but he batted their hands aside.

“I’m gonna kill this gordo,” he said.

Melanie reached the open driver’s door and started to climb in. Lizzy was still staring back at the ditch, where the flames were already crackling and popping.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Lizzy said. “Have we lost our—”

Whatever else she intended to say was lost as the propane exploded. The sound was deafening, a sudden thunderous boom. It was far louder than Melanie expected, and the force of the explosion felt like someone had planted both hands against her back and shoved her. She slammed into the open door and slid down onto her knees, as a wave of fierce heat rolled over her. Off to her left, some jagged thing went spinning up toward the rain canopy, sliced right through it like a hot knife through cake icing, and kept going into the sky.

As she picked herself up, she dared a glanced over her shoulder and saw a massive roaring fire that filled the ditch and was spreading across the edge of the parking lot and the shoulder of the road beyond.

That was a heck of a lot bigger than I expected, she thought.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw people scattering in all directions. The explosion had put an immediate end to the hostility, as the crowd fled. She saw the young man in the filthy t-shirt running as fast as his feet would take him into the open field beside the gas station. The employees dashed back inside the convenience store. Others ran in various directions, but many of them were limping as if they’d been injured. Only Derrick stood his ground, looking back at the fire with a big smile on his face.

As she climbed into the truck, Melanie heard his boots on the pavement. He rushed back to the truck, pushing her into the back seat rather roughly. She crawled over the guns and trash, trying to settle herself. Flickering orange light danced through the back window.

“That was fantastic,” Derrick said. He put the truck in Drive, pulled forward, and parked beside the nearest pump.

“Was it?” Melanie replied. “I almost blew us all to smithereens.”

“Almost,” he replied. “But you didn’t. Instead, you tossed them all around like ragdolls. Nice. Good work.”

He hopped out of the truck again and went around the back. As Melanie leaned back in her seat, head pounding, she listened to him filling the gas tank. Luckily, the pump still worked. Melanie wrung her hands, restless and scarcely able to sit still.

“I injured some of those people,” she said. “I should help them, shouldn’t I?”

Without intending to, she’d spoken loud enough for Derrick to hear. He smacked his hand on the truck.

“It’s their own fault,” he said through the open window. “We’re in survival mode. Quit second-guessing your instincts!”

“Can we just get out of here before the police show up?” Lizzy said with a whimper.

“Working on it,” Derrick replied.

Once the tank was full, he ran back around and climbed into the truck. He gave both women a proud smile, one at a time, nodded, and started the truck.

“Put your safety, and the safety of your families, ahead of other people,” he said. “That’s the right attitude.”

And with that, he pulled away, circling the parking lot. The fire was growing, burning out into the field, licking up at the edge of the rain canopy. Derrick passed close to the flames as he turned back onto the road and roared away from the gas station.

I went too far, Melanie realized. What’s wrong with me? I’m going to get arrested or killed. This has to stop!

14

She pulled her cell phone out again, just to make sure, but she still had no service. Mark and Shona were out there somewhere. Had they gone home to wait for her? What if they’d decided to come to the factory instead? What if they passed each other on the road? Suddenly, it seemed all too possible, and Melanie leaned against the front seat, staring out of the windshield.

“Maybe we should stop somewhere conspicuous along the way,” she said. “Like a parking lot. That way, if Mark is headed to Beaton’s, he’ll see us.”

“No, no, no,” Derrick replied, flapping a hand at her. “We need to keep going. We’re driving all the way to Knoxville. Maybe he’ll leave a note for you at home or something.”

Ahead, the road passed another residential neighborhood. Traffic was getting heavier as they got closer to town, most people heading northwest, away from the city. Indeed, a Mustang went blasting by, cutting past other vehicles by using the shoulder.

“I just don’t want them roaming around, worrying about me,” she said.

“We’ll find them,” Derrick said. “Just drop it. I’m not parking along the road. We keep going.”

Melanie had turned to watch the Mustang. It almost clipped the back corner of a minivan, edging onto the grass, but it never slowed down. Far beyond, the fire continued to grow, now burning its way across the nearby field.

What have I done? Melanie thought.

A large SUV with a Chevy logo on the grill was coming up behind them, moving fast. Melanie almost ignored it, but then she saw the flashing of bright blue lights. A police SUV? She couldn’t see a logo on the side, so she didn’t know if it was highway patrol, a sheriff, or a local cop. Still, she was seized with a sudden strangling panic.

“Maybe they’re not after us,” she said, gripping the seat in front of her. “Maybe they’re headed for an accident or something.”

“Nah, it’s for us,” Derrick said, glancing into the rearview mirror.

Indeed, Melanie realized the SUV was slowing down as it pulled up behind them.

“What do we do?” Lizzy cried. “Is it because of the fire? How do they know it was us?”

“Floor it,” Melanie said. It was advice spoken in a moment of panic. She just wanted to get away. If they were arrested, what would become of Mark and Shona? “We can outrun them!”

But she saw Derrick’s face in the rearview mirror, and he was smiling. “Calm down, ladies. We’re fine.”

To Melanie’s alarm, he began slowing down, easing onto the shoulder of the road.

“No, no, wait,” she said. “What are we doing?”

“We’re pulling over,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. Everything’s just fine.”

The SUV followed them, coming to a stop on the shoulder behind them. Melanie saw the face of the police officer behind the tinted window, a lean face, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, little tufts of blond hair poking out from under a black baseball cap.

“Don’t shoot him,” she said. “We don’t need to be in the middle of another gunfight.”

“Nah, I’m not shooting this guy,” he said, still grinning like an idiot. He killed the engine and eased his door open. “Stay here. I’ll handle this.”

His response made no sense to her. Why was he acting like getting pulled over was a good thing? Indeed, as he stepped out of the truck, she noted that he didn’t take the handgun with him. It was sitting there in its holster in the door pocket.

“Are you going to bribe him or something?” she asked.

He didn’t answer. Still grinning, he walked back to the SUV, leaving the driver’s door wide open. As he approached the SUV, the police officer got out of his vehicle. He was like Derrick Platt’s counterpoint—tall and lanky, with a lean face, long neck, thin nose.

“Sometimes I can’t figure the boss out,” Lizzy said from the front seat. “Why does he seem so happy to get pulled over by this cop? The last time police stopped us, he almost shot them.”

“Not sure,” Melanie replied.

As soon as they were within reach, Derrick and the cop shook hands vigorously. That one act made the situation suddenly clear: These two men knew each other. They chatted for a moment, then Derrick beckoned the cop and started back toward the truck.

“Here they come,” Melanie said.

“Why is he bringing that cop over here?” Lizzy asked. “Is he going to pin the fire on us and get us arrested, so he can get away scot-free?”

“Not sure.” Melanie couldn’t be sure that Lizzy wasn’t right, and she let her left hand creep closer to the nearest handgun hanging from its holster on the back of the driver’s seat.

But Derrick and the cop both leaned into the open door. “Hey, ladies, let me introduce you to my old buddy Hunter Phillips. He’s one of the good guys, so you can stop looking like you want to vomit and pass out.” He clapped his buddy on the back.

Hunter pulled off his sunglasses to reveal pale-blue eyes. He set the sunglasses above the brim of his uniform cap. “Not just one of the good guys,” he said. “One of the smart guys. How are you ladies holding up?”

“Not so good, Hunter,” Lizzy said. “We just got pulled over by the police, in case you didn’t notice.”

This made Hunter laugh uproariously, and, oh, he had an obnoxious, nasally laugh. It crawled right down Melanie’s back. “How do you guys know each other?” she asked, trying to suppress her reaction. “Same bowling team or something?”

“Close, actually,” Derrick said. “This is the guy I was trying to get hold of earlier.” He backhanded Hunter across the chest. “We’re part of the same club, but it’s not a bowling team. Not quite. How would you describe it, buddy?”

Hunter stroked his long chin with long fingers. “We’re forward-thinkers. We’re among the rare few that see what’s coming and prepare for it.”

“Pardon me, officer, but can you speak plainly?” Melanie said. This made Hunter and Derrick both chuckle, and she found it especially annoying. What was the deal with these guys?

“We discuss, plan, and prepare for worst-case scenarios,” he said. “A prepper club, if you will. We’ve been talking about stuff like our current crisis for a long time, and we’ve got our place ready to go. Derrick here is our fearless leader, and he’s kept us on track. If I’d told you about it yesterday, you would have thought we were nuts. Now, what can you say? Seems we were right on the money.”

“Ah.” It was all Melanie could say. In reality, what he’d described sounded a little bit like a doomsday cult. Then again, she couldn’t deny that something really close to doomsday was upon them. She traded a brief look with Lizzy. This certainly explained the mysterious supply closet.

“Anyway, you got the kid with you?” Derrick asked Hunter.

“Yeah, he’s in the back seat with Josh,” Hunter replied. “We found him back at your place. Seems he was packing up and about to head to his mom’s house.”

“Why?” Derrick said, and the smile left him completely. “That woman is about as ill-prepared for this crisis as anyone on the face of the earth. I thought the kid was smarter than that.”

“Eh, he’s at that age,” Hunter said. “Don’t overthink it. Anyway, he was none too happy to be found and picked up, but we chased him down and grabbed him for you. He’s still pouting.”

“That’s fine,” Derrick said. “Go get him, would you? He’ll ride up here with us.”

Hunter nodded, slid the sunglasses back over his eyes for some reason, and headed to the SUV.

“You know, it’s not as weird as it sounds,” Derrick said, staring hard at Melanie.

“What’s that?” she replied.

“Our club. Hunter makes it sound like a cult. It’s not.”

“Okay,” Melanie said with a shrug. “I didn’t accuse you of anything.”

“No, but I see that look on your face.”

“Derrick, I’ve had a crappy day,” she said with a sigh. “I’m bound to have an awful look on my face no matter what happens.”

Hunter opened the back door of the SUV, and Derrick’s son, Nathan, stepped out, scowling grimly. A second man stepped out behind him, dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and tie. He was a mustachioed man with bad skin and thinning hair. With Hunter in front and the other man behind, they marched Nathan toward the pickup truck.

“Now, just what the heck did you think you were doing?” Derrick snapped at the boy. “Hiking off to your mother’s house? Do you realize how long that would have taken? That woman doesn’t have the means to take care of you anyway. Come on, kiddo. Think straight. Don’t let your emotions get in the way of your smarts.”

Nathan pressed his lips together tightly, as if trying to hold back the tide of angry words. He failed, and they tumbled out. “I’d rather have nothing and be with Mom, than spend any more time with you.”

Seething, Derrick pushed Hunter aside, grabbed his son’s shoulder, and slammed him against the side of the truck. “I’ve had just about enough of your rotten attitude. You’re riding up here with me, and you’re going to behave. Got it?”

“I’ll jump out of the truck the second I get a chance,” Nathan said, rubbing his shoulder. “I don’t care if you’re going down the highway at fifty miles an hour. I’m going to Mom’s.”

Derrick stared at his son for a moment, clearly fighting his anger.

This guy’s unhinged, Melanie thought, not for the first time. Do I really want to bring my family around him?

“Let me keep him in the back seat of my car,” Hunter said, grabbing a fistful of Nathan’s shirt. “He can’t open those doors from the inside. We’ll keep him safe, even if he doesn’t want to be safe.”

Derrick bit his lip and suddenly raised his right hand, as if he were going to backhand Nathan across the face. To the boy’s credit, he didn’t flinch. He just stood his ground, scowling at his own feet. The poor kid. Melanie wanted to come to his aid, but she didn’t know what to do.

“Fine,” Derrick said, lowering his hand. “Keep him safe back there. He’s going back to the factory, whether he wants to or not. That’s going to be the only safe place in this whole area. His mother will just be another one of the desperate and dying, and it’s her own fault. That factory is a fortress against the devolving rabble of common folk.”

“You got it,” Hunter replied. “Come on, Nathan.” He pulled the kid around and nudged him back toward the SUV. “Your dad’s just trying to take care of you, whether you realize it or not.”

“He hates me,” Nathan replied, dragging his feet as he marched back toward the SUV. “He hates everyone but himself. Can’t you see that?”

Melanie watched as they returned Nathan to the SUV and forced him into the back seat. No, she didn’t like any of this. And she didn’t like the way Derrick Platt talked about the food factory. A fortress against the devolving rabble? That was crazy talk. Still, she didn’t want him to see how she was feeling. She still needed his help. When Lizzy met her gaze again, she made a little gesture, patting at the air.

Keep your cool, Liz.

“Sorry you ladies had to see that,” Derrick said, climbing in behind the steering wheel. “His mother has been trying to turn him against me for years, but she’ll regret leaving me when everything goes to hell. I warned her. I warned her many times, and she said I was nuts, said she couldn’t stay with a guy who was dreaming of the end of the world. Whatever.” He pulled the driver’s door shut and put the truck into Drive. “She wouldn’t belong in our place anyway. She never wanted to contribute, and the way I see it, if you don’t want to contribute, then you don’t deserve to sit safely behind the fortress walls.”

As he pulled off the shoulder back onto the road, the SUV followed. He’d been worried sick about his son’s disappearance, but once he found him safe and sound, his first response had been to shove him against the side of the pickup truck. No wonder Nathan wanted to march to his mother’s house.

Maybe I shouldn’t be indebting myself and my family to this weirdo, Melanie thought. She felt a deep disquiet.

“You’re awfully quiet back there,” Derrick said.

“I’m fine,” Melanie replied, hoping her voice didn’t betray her true feelings. “I’m glad we found Nathan safe.”

To this, Derrick said nothing, absolutely nothing. He hunkered over the steering wheel, glaring through the windshield. Melanie’s mind was settled. Aligning with Derrick Platt had been a bad idea. Somehow, she needed to get away from him and find her family. Access to his little closet of doomsday supplies wasn’t worth it.

Still, she thought of the chaos at the grocery store, the angry mob at the gas station. She couldn’t leave yet. If Derrick dropped her and Lizzy off by the side of the road, they would be in real trouble.

So what? she chided herself. A little chaos is better than being stuck with this unstable cult leader creep.

15

Things had gotten tense and quiet inside the truck. As they reached the outskirts of Knoxville, traffic got heavier. From time to time, Hunter used the lights of his police cruiser to clear vehicles out of their way. It didn’t always work, and occasionally, they had to pull off the road and pass people on the shoulder or even in the field beyond. The whole time, Melanie was trying to formulate some plan for getting away from him.

“Do you mind if we go to my house first?” she asked, after a while. And then, to sweeten the deal, she added, “I have some stuff I can add to your survival stash. That’ll be one way I can contribute, you know?”

“Gotta stop somewhere else first,” he said. “Just sit tight. Don’t get impatient.”

She was tempted to start yelling at him, but she knew it wouldn’t help. The more you pushed Derrick, the more he dug in his heels. Fighting fiercely to maintain an even tone of voice, she added, “Okay, well, can we go to my house right after that?”

“Right there,” he said, pointing up ahead. “Gotta stop there for a bit.”

She saw a large parking lot in front of an abandoned industrial complex. The parking lot had been poorly maintained, and it was cracked and pitted, with weeds growing out of the cracks. An F-150 was parked at an angle—another extended cab pickup, though a much newer model than Derrick’s. She saw a big, burly guy sitting behind the steering wheel.

“There he is,” Derrick said.

“Who?”

“Cooper Wheedley,” he replied. “Old reliable.”

“Another member of your doomsday club?” Lizzy said. She’d been quietly curled up against her door, and when she spoke, her voice cracked.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Derrick said, giving her a narrow-eyed look.

He pulled into the parking lot, and the SUV followed. As they bumped and thumped across the rough pavement, the driver of the F-150 opened his door and stepped out. He was draped in camouflage from head to toe—cap, jacket, pants, and boots—and he had an enormous red beard. Derrick pulled up alongside him, rolling down his window. Behind him, the SUV came to a stop, and both Hunter and Josh stepped out. They approached, leaving Nathan in the back seat.

“Well, looks like everything’s a go,” the new guy said. He had a deep, slightly hoarse voice. His unkempt beard crept up his cheeks and down his neck. “You haven’t backed out on the deal, have you? We’ve got a place at the fort?”

The men crowded around the driver’s window. There was a Platt-ish quality to all of them, and Melanie felt extremely uncomfortable. Enough that she even began to eye the passenger door, tempted to just climb out and walk away. Maybe Nathan had had the right idea in the first place.

“You know the rules, Cooper,” Derrick said. “Everyone inside the factory pulls their own weight. We’re not creating a welfare state in there. Work hard, and you’ll want for nothing. Slack off, and you can go right back out the gate with the rest of the rabble. Does that sound okay to you?”

“I ain’t no rabble, I’ll tell you that,” Cooper said. “I’ll do my fair share.”

“You’ll have to start using deodorant on the daily,” Hunter said. This made Josh laugh loudly. “We’re all going to be closed up in there together. We don’t want you stinking up the place.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Cooper replied, mocking the laughter.

“Seriously, there’s going to be a lot of hard work,” Derrick said. “I expect everyone in the factory—and I mean everyone—to pull their weight. I’m not running a soup kitchen. I spent years preparing for a situation like this, and I won’t waste precious resources on lazy people. The first little grievance, and you’re out on your butt. That goes for everyone, got it?”

Cooper nodded vigorously. For some reason, this made Josh and Hunter both laugh. Why was every damned thing funny to these guys? To Melanie, there was something hostile and violent in the laughter—it was a mirthless sound, a threat. She didn’t like it.

Lizzy turned on her seat and made eye contact with Melanie again, stark terror in her gaze. Indeed, the little community Derrick was describing sounded worse and worse. This was not a situation Melanie wanted for her family or for Lizzy.

“How do we expect to keep things going indefinitely?” Cooper asked. “Those supplies of yours won’t last forever. We need a supply chain.”

“It’ll last long enough,” Derrick replied, punching him on the fleshy arm. “The factory isn’t just a storehouse of goods. It’ll also be our base of operations. We’ll make periodic raids, take what we need. In the chaos, it won’t be hard to replenish our stocks. We can hold out there for the rest of our lives, until we’re the only civilized place left. Just like we always talked about.”

As he was talking, Melanie heard the distinct pop-pop-pop of not-so-distant gunfire. Derrick drew his handgun from the door holster, but he kept right on blustering about his imagined utopia. Lizzy made a discreet little gesture with her hand, pointing at the passenger door, as if to say, Should we get out of here?

Melanie gauged their surroundings while the men continued talking. She could see the smoke of the gas station fire rising in the distance. However, there appeared to be another fire burning in the opposite direction. She wasn’t sure which was worse: staying in the truck or stepping out into the madness. Finally, she realized there was a third course of action that was much saner.

“Can I maybe jump into this conversation for a second?” she said, interrupting Derrick midstream. He trailed off and adjusted the rearview mirror so he could look at her.

“You had something to say, Melanie?”

“Well, if I’m being entirely honest, I don’t care for your description of this…uh…arrangement,” she said. “You offered a place for me and Lizzy, and for our families. You said the factory would be open to us if we helped you find Nathan. Those were your words. I never confirmed that I would go there. Now you’re describing something that sounds more like a…well, a labor camp.”

Derrick kept right on grinning like an idiot, and Hunter laughed again.

“Oh, he’s just exaggerating,” Josh said, tugging at the knot of his tie. “You gotta understand Derrick here. He’s a real sarcastic guy. If I took everything he said at face value, I’d be sweating bullets.”

“I’m not exaggerating,” Derrick said, matter-of-factly. “What gave you that idea? Everyone’s going to pull their own weight and work hard. Simple as that. But, in return, you’ll have plenty of food and fresh water and a safe place to lay your head. Does that sound like a bad deal to you, Melanie?” His cold eyes locked onto hers.

“It sounds like a deal that maybe I’m not all that excited about,” she said.

“Yeah, same here,” Lizzy added.

Derrick continued to stare at her. Hunter was chuckling softly. Something about this whole exchange clearly amused him. Josh’s smile, on the other hand, had faltered, and he was now anxiously smoothing his thinning hair back.

“I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention,” Derrick said finally, “but this city is burning down around us as we speak. Let’s not pretend like you have a choice. It’s the factory or the tumult. There’s not a third option. Now, we made a deal, and we’re going to stick to it. Don’t get cold feet.”

“Maybe I need to put them in the back of my patrol vehicle with Nathan,” Hunter said.

“Are you threatening to lock us up?” Melanie said.

“You’d thank me for it later,” he said. “Just like Nathan.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, where else are you two going to go?” Derrick said. “Just do your fair share of work, and we won’t have any problems.” He turned to Hunter, smacked his friend on the arm, and added, “They’ll make perfect worker bees, if you ask me. Heck, I had them cleaning up after the holiday party at work off the clock. You should have seen them. Stanley and the others were packing up to leave, and there these women were picking up their crusty cake scraps.”

“Hey, what’s the deal?” Melanie said. “Why are you insulting us? We were doing you a favor.”

Hunter laughed again. God, she hated that laugh so much, she wanted wrap her hands around his throat.

How do I get out of this situation?

“Seriously, Melanie, let’s quit being silly,” Derrick said. “We made a deal. It’s the only sane course of action, and you damn well know it. Don’t try to back out. I’ve got my all my core crew members now. We’ll go pick up your family. And that’s it.” He swiped a hand in the air, as if to put a sudden and sure end to all debate.

Josh looked quite somber now. He was still furiously smoothing his hair back. He cleared his throat and said, “Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh to these ladies? Calling them worker bees? That’s not what I had in mind.”

“Oh?” Derrick said, voice dripping with contempt. “And what did you have in mind, Joshy-poo?”

“I don’t know. Something egalitarian,” he said. “Not so…uh…dictatorial.”

And again, Hunter laughed. Now she was beginning to think there was something truly unhinged about it. “Boy, are you stupid,” he said to Josh, grabbing him by the back of the head and roughly shaking him. “How in the heck did you ever get the idea that this arrangement was going to be egalitarian? Derrick is the boss. He’s always been the boss. And he was always going to run the show. Just be glad you got included, you turd.”

“Well…” Josh extricated himself from the police officer’s grasp and smoothed his hair one more time. “This is all getting kind of uncomfortable to me, and I can tell these two ladies don’t like it either. Maybe we don’t want to be under a dictator, huh? How about that?”

This time, Hunter went for his throat, grabbing with both hands and pulling Josh toward him. “Derrick, it’s time to stop playing around with these people. No one’s reneging on the deal. No one.” And with that, as Josh struggled in his grasp, Hunter looked back at Melanie. “Our survival is at stake here. All of us. Nobody’s going to jeopardize this deal. Tell them, Derrick.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said, turning in his seat to face Melanie. Lizzy had retreated back into her safe space against the passenger door. “What do you ladies have to say about that?”

Melanie felt the precariousness of their situation. She was surrounded by guns and violent men. Josh was quickly turned beet red. She weighed her next words carefully before speaking.

“Look, we’re not backing out of the deal,” she said. “We’ll go back to the factory with our families, and we’ll pull our weight. It’s not a problem. But there’s no reason to treat people like trash. We’ll all do our part without the insults and threats. Nobody needs to be a dictator here, okay? That’s ridiculous.”

Lizzy sat up then, as if somehow Melanie had emboldened her to speak. She even opened her mouth and took a breath, but suddenly the world changed around them. Melanie felt it before she saw it, a strange crawling unease filling the air. The sky beyond the window seemed to transform. At first, it was like a strange shifting of the air, as if the atmosphere had become fluid. Then the color became vivid, a bright green glow waving high overhead in great shimmering sheets.

Hunter released his hold on Josh and stumbled backward, as if he thought the sky were falling.

“Oh, my God,” Josh cried, rubbing his throat. “What is it? What’s happening?”

“Drink it in, boys.” Derrick leaned over the steering wheel to stare up at the sky. “The aurora borealis. This is what the end of the world looks like. Isn’t it beautiful?”

The sheer size of it was breathtaking. It seemed to fill the whole sky from horizon to horizon. Melanie saw cars on the road coming to a stop, people stepping out to stare. She also saw something else—a perfect opportunity to escape.

16

The whole world seemed to be holding its breath. People everywhere were transfixed by the brilliant green light show that had filled the sky. Josh had tears in his eyes, and Cooper was cowering, hands raised above his head. Even Derrick had a dreamy look on his face, and he’d leaned so far forward that the tip of his nose brushed the windshield.

Seeing her best chance to escape, Melanie reached over and snagged two of the handguns from their holsters, moving as quickly and quietly as possible. She then slid the strap of her purse over her neck and leaned into the crack between the passenger seat and door.

“I never thought the end of the world could look so beautiful,” Hunter said.

His loud voice provided cover for Melanie to whisper, “Lizzy, open the door and run.” Her friend nodded, her hand reaching for the handle.

“I don’t like it,” Cooper said, sweeping his hands back and forth. “Guys, we’re getting blasted by radiation, aren’t we?”

He wasn’t the only one panicking. Melanie saw some people far down the road who had gotten out of their car and took off running into the field. The shimmering green light was everywhere, dancing on chrome edges and windows, shifting faintly on the pavement. It was otherworldly, and Melanie had to fight hard to maintain her focus. She prodded Lizzy, giving her the signal to go.

With a little squeak, Lizzy threw open the passenger door and fell out onto the parking lot. Melanie immediately lunged through the gap and threw herself out of the truck, landing on top of her friend in the process. She dropped both guns, which went clattering across the pavement.

“Hey, hey, what’s this?” Derrick shouted. “What do you think you’re doing?”

But Melanie didn’t look back. With her right heel, she kicked the door shut, crawled off of Lizzy, and reached for the handguns.

“It’s panic,” Josh said.

“No, it’s escape,” Derrick roared. “Hunter, go grab them. Hurry up!”

Melanie picked up the guns. They were small black revolvers. She didn’t know the make or model, but she knew enough to aim and pull the trigger. She handed one to Lizzy, who took it with fumbling fingers.

“Lizzy, run back toward the SUV,” Melanie said. “Use it for cover. Go!”

But Lizzy was staring up at the sky again, at the vast shifting sheets of green light dancing from horizon to horizon. It really was a dazzling sight. Melanie felt tempted to stare at it herself, but she knew they had seconds to react. She heard the men shouting, heard footsteps on the pavement. She took her friend by the arm and yanked her to her feet. Though her gaze was still fixed skyward, Lizzy allowed herself to be pulled along.

As Melanie approached the back of the truck, she saw Hunter coming for her, racing around the other side to cut her off. She didn’t want to shoot anyone if she didn’t have to, so she aimed the gun just over his head and pulled the trigger. The crack of the gun seemed inordinately loud, and Hunter ducked down behind the truck.

“She shot at me,” he said.

“Well, shoot back, dummy,” Derrick replied.

Melanie ran full-out, taking long, unstable strides as she made for the SUV. It was a huge vehicle and would provide plenty of cover while she tried to figure out what to do next. Plus, she thought maybe the men would be less likely to shoot at it since Nathan was in the back seat.

“What are we going to do?” Lizzy asked, out of breath. “Mel, this is crazy!”

“I know. I know.”

She heard the echoing pop of a handgun from behind her, the loud tap of a bullet hitting the hood of the SUV. Her whole body throbbed with numb terror. She couldn’t tell if she’d been hit or not. She could scarcely think or feel at all. However, she dropped to the pavement beside the passenger door and pulled Lizzy down with her.

“We have to keep going,” Lizzy said, tears in her eyes. “We’re sitting ducks here.”

“If we run out into the open, we’ll get shot,” Melanie replied. “Just be ready to return fire if they come for us.”

Lizzy was hugging the handgun against her belly, barely holding on to it. It didn’t look like she would be much help in a gunfight. Melanie glanced back in the direction of the pickup truck. Just then, she saw someone peek around the front of the truck, a long, lean face easing past the headlight. In the shifting green light, it looked like a ghoul’s face. She raised her gun and fired, just as the muzzle of Hunter’s own pistol flashed.

In the same moment, he ducked back behind the headlight, and his bullet pinged off the pavement with a flash of sparks, leaving a black mark mere inches from Melanie’s right foot. She drew her legs in closer.

“Did you hit her?” That was Derrick. He had practically screamed himself hoarse.

No one answered, but Melanie heard footsteps on the pavement moving in multiple directions. She also heard shouting far in the distance. Perhaps some strangers had noticed what was going on. Would anyone come to help? She thought it unlikely, especially since one of the parked vehicles was a police SUV.

She dropped onto the ground on her belly, looking beneath the vehicle to try to see where everyone was. One man was standing beside the driver’s door of the pickup truck. She thought that was Josh. Another man was in front of the pickup truck but moving back around the other way—most likely Hunter. A third man was moving along the other side of the SUV, as if he intended to circle around the back—Cooper.

Another gunshot startled her, and the passenger window of the SUV shattered just above her. Lizzy screamed and dropped down on the ground beside her, covering her head with her arms. Melanie thrust her gun into the gap beneath the SUV, aiming at the boots moving toward the back of the vehicle. She waited until he passed behind the back wheel, then she fired at him.

Cooper uttered a strangled cry and danced backward. She saw a big chunk of the sole of his left boot fall off. He opened fire, despite Nathan being in the back seat, and bullets shattered the back window, punching holes in the front and back doors. Melanie put an arm over Lizzy to keep her low. She heard a bullet sizzle in the air just above her.

“Lizzy, shoot back,” she said. “We’re pinned down!”

“I’m…I…don’t…” Lizzy fumbled with her gun, finally got a good grip on it, and aimed beneath the SUV. She fired at nothing in particular, her bullet hitting the pavement.

Cooper was moving backward, away from the SUV. He continued to fire a few more times, unloading his entire magazine, then he cursed and dropped the magazine at his feet. Melanie looked for Hunter. He was off to the right, stepping into the gap between vehicles. She aimed at him, but suddenly he stepped up out of sight. She heard the creak of a bumper.

“Stop wasting bullets, you morons,” Derrick shouted. “Rush them.”

“I’m working on it,” Hunter replied. “They can’t go anywhere. We’ve got them.”

She heard soft clicks. It sounded like Cooper was changing magazines on his gun, reloading. Melanie wracked her brain, trying to figure out her next step.

We have to take at least one of them out, she thought.

She looked behind her and saw people in the distance pointing and shouting. A few cars had stopped on the shoulder, as people became aware of the gunfight in the parking lot. She saw shocked faces through windshields. Still, nobody was coming to her aid, and there was a large open space with no cover between the SUV and the street.

The hood of the SUV creaked, and she realized Hunter had climbed onto it. Panicked, reacting without really thinking, Melanie got her feet beneath her and hopped up, thrusting the gun out in front of her. Just before she pulled the trigger, she saw Hunter crawling on the hood. Behind him, Derrick Platt had gotten out of the pickup truck, and he was holding a shotgun. Josh was just sort of standing behind him with a confused look on his face.

As soon as Hunter saw her, he fell backward and raised his gun. Melanie dropped back down, pulling the trigger. They fired at the same time. Then Hunter slammed into the back of the truck and fell to the pavement, as Melanie dropped down beside Lizzy.

“She’s armed, man,” Hunter said. “What do you want me to do? I’m not wearing Kevlar.”

“If you’d both rushed her, this would be over with,” Derrick said. “Come on. Follow my lead. Get up.”

Melanie glanced toward the road again. Wasn’t anyone going to do anything to help? She saw cars quickly backing up in both directions. From her position beside the SUV, she was fully visible to the road, so she raised her free hand and waved it back and forth.

“We have to get out of here,” Lizzy said, in a desperate, strangled voice. She tried to rise, but Melanie pulled her back down.

“No, I told you, don’t step out into the open. Get ready to fire at the men when they come for us.”

“Right. Okay.” Lizzy raised the gun, taking it in both hands.

Melanie heard the familiar heel-scraping sound of Derrick’s footsteps. She looked beneath the SUV again and saw him moving alongside the truck. He stooped down and grabbed Hunter in passing, dragging him to his feet.

“You know, your son is in the back seat there.” That sounded like Josh. “This is a little reckless, don’t you think?”

“Nathan is smart enough to duck,” Derrick said.

And then he fired the shotgun. Most of it passed over the hood of the SUV, but she heard some of the pellets hitting the side of the SUV.

This guy is nuts, she thought. He’s shooting up a police vehicle that belongs to his buddy, while his own son is locked in the back seat.

She’d always known Derrick to be strange and unpleasant, but this was something else altogether. He wasn’t trying to bargain with her, to coax her out of hiding. He was just shooting to kill. Somehow, the shifting green light in the sky made all of this seem even more insane.

She aimed at his shoes, tracking him as he moved alongside the SUV. It looked like he was planning to come around the back. The early shot had perhaps been meant to flush her out from behind her cover. She took careful aim. This time, she didn’t want to blast a chunk out of the sole. She intended to put a bullet right in his fat, heel-scraping feet.

She pulled the trigger and saw a little puff of dust on the side of his shoe. Derrick cursed loudly and immediately shuffled backward. As he did, he fired another shot, but it sounded like it went into the air somewhere.

“Did she get you?” Cooper’s voice.

“Just clipped me, I think,” he replied. It sounded like he was talking through clenched teeth. “I need more shells!”

Melanie hopped to her feet and pulled Lizzy up with her. Leaning in close to her friend, she whispered, “We’re going to make a run for it. I don’t want either of us, or poor Nathan, to get shot.”

“Where do we go?” Lizzy said.

“Toward the road,” she replied. “Traffic’s not moving. Plenty of places to hide, and people to help us maybe. Let’s go. As we run, fire a few shots over your shoulder. That’ll keep them from popping their heads up.”

“Got it,” Lizzy said, baring her teeth.

“Now.”

Melanie turned and dashed away from the SUV, cutting a straight line for the road. As she did, she glanced over her shoulder. She saw Derrick through the shattered passenger’s window. He was currently pushing another shell into the shotgun. Cooper stood just behind him, aiming in the general direction of the SUV. Hunter was standing between the back of the truck and the front of the SUV. He was the first to realize the women were fleeing, and he uttered a frantic, wordless cry, raising his pistol to aim at them.

Melanie took a few shots in his direction. One of the bullets hit the back windshield of the truck. Lizzy was racing along beside her, wheezing. She pointed her pistol over her shoulder without looking and took a couple of shots as well. It was enough to make Hunter duck down for a second.

As soon as Melanie turned back around, she realized a car was driving over the little island that separated the road from the parking lot. Traffic was at an absolute standstill now for almost half a mile in both directions. The combination of the gunfight and the shimmering sky had brought everyone to a stop. Apparently, one driver had had enough and was determined to get around the traffic. Though the curb was steep there, he bounced over it, almost getting stuck for a second before thumping down into the parking lot.

“Is that another one of Derrick’s friends?” Lizzy asked.

When she said it, Melanie realized the car was coming right toward them. Indeed, Derrick might have quite a few fellow nutjobs. Maybe they’d all been planning to meet here, and this one was just a few minutes late.

She thrust the gun over her shoulder and took another random shot in the direction of the truck, just in case one of the men was aiming at her, but she didn’t dare turn now. Was this new vehicle going to run them down? She started to divert, her right foot sliding a bit on the gravel.

Then she realized the vehicle she was looking at. A light-gray Volkswagen Jetta. The reflection of green light was dancing on the windshield, but she could still see two faces faintly through the glass.

“Oh, my God,” she said with a gasp.

“What? What is it?” Lizzy replied. She was trying to aim her gun over her shoulder again but having trouble. She had a somewhat chaotic running style that made her arms flop about.

“It’s Mark and Shona,” Melanie cried, pointing at the Jetta. “It’s my family!”

The Jetta came to a screeching stop, Mark throwing his door open while it was still moving. He stepped out, flung himself against the open door, and aimed his trusty Glock 19 in the direction of the SUV and pickup truck. Clearly, he’d seen what was going on.

“Go around to the other side and get in the back seat,” he shouted. “I’ll get us out of here.”

He opened fire, unloading wildly at their enemies. She heard glass shattering, heard Derrick and Hunter shouting.

“Be careful,” Melanie said, running toward the front of the Jetta. “There’s an innocent kid in the backseat of the SUV.”

“Now you tell me,” Mark replied, ducking back down behind the driver’s door.

Melanie heard the roar of the SUV’s engine. Daring another glance over her shoulder, she saw that Derrick had gotten behind the wheel of the SUV. Hunter was standing on the narrow running board and clutching the top of the vehicle.

We’re not getting out of this unless we win the fight, she realized. Derrick has lost his mind.

17

When Hunter opened fire above the roof of the SUV, Melanie saw no choice but to stumble to a stop and drop down onto the ground. She was still too far away from the Jetta, and she didn’t want the men to aim toward her family. She landed hard, scraping her left palm on the pavement. Lizzy fell beside her, landing on her hands and knees. Melanie planted a hand on her back and pressed her flat, making her as small a target as possible.

The SUV made a sharp turn, positioning itself perpendicular to the Jetta, and came to a stop. Hunter leaned over the top of the cab, bracing his arms to aim at them. Derrick was behind the wheel, and he reached down, producing another handgun from somewhere inside the vehicle and aiming it out the passenger window. Melanie raised her own gun, as did Lizzy, pointing it at the SUV. Behind her, Mark pointed his own gun over the driver’s door.

And for an interminable second, they all just froze in place, guns pointed in both directions. Finally, Derrick spoke, shouting so loud that his voice creaked.

“We got us a standoff here,” he said. “So what are we going to do? How about I give us a three count, and we all just start shooting, see who’s left standing at the end? Or maybe you want to throw down your weapons and I’ll spare you. What do you say?”

Melanie had no idea how to respond to this. Now, her husband and daughter were caught up in the battle. Before she had a chance to say anything, however, she heard a kind of buzzing in the distance following by a big burst of sparks from a power line on the far side of the abandoned warehouse. Then someone screamed behind her. Tires squealed. She dared a glanced over her shoulder in time to see a vehicle approaching the traffic jam suddenly veer to one side, mount the curb, and slam into a telephone pole.

Headlights on vehicles began to shut off suddenly. She heard engines winding down, as if the whole crowd had suddenly decided to turn their ignition keys at the same time. People began opening their doors and stepping out of their vehicles, looking around in panic. No doubt, the gunfight had already heightened tension.

Everything is dying now, she realized. This is it. The full force of the solar event.

In the distance, another vehicle veered into the ditch on the far side of the road, rolling a couple of times before coming to a stop on its roof. A man and woman climbed out of the car that had slammed into the telephone pole. Holding hands, they ran full-out along the edge of the parking lot, as if some invisible enemy were after them.

“Looks like this is it,” Derrick shouted. “What do you say, folks? Throw down your weapons and let’s call it a draw.”

“You first,” Mark replied.

Melanie saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Cooper had been standing in the parking lot, frozen in the midst of the fight, but he made for the SUV now. Josh moved to join him, as they headed toward the SUV.

Someone fired first. Melanie didn’t see who it was. All of a sudden, she heard two guns fire, almost at the same time, followed by the crack of glass as a bullet hit the windshield of the Jetta. Startled, she began returning fire, shooting bullet after bullet in the direction of the SUV.

“Liz, shoot at them!” she cried.

Her friend had been lying there, face down on the pavement, but she raised her gun now. Without bothering to look, she took a few shots in the direction of the SUV. Melanie heard an ear-straining shriek. The couple that had been fleeing along the edge of the parking lot were just to her right. Suddenly, the woman grabbed at her chest, uttering that shrill cry. She stumbled to a stop and fell, collapsing in a heap—caught in the crossfire.

“What have you done?” her companion wailed, dropping down beside her.

People were fleeing their vehicles all over the place now, scattering in many directions. She heard shouting, cursing, weeping, sheer panic. She kept pulling the trigger until she realized her gun was out of bullets. She’d emptied the magazine. There were bullet holes punched in the side of the SUV. Hunter had been forced to duck back out of sight, even as Cooper and Josh ran to the back door. Through the passenger window, she saw Derrick’s wild eyes. He seemed to have dropped his handgun and grabbed a rifle, an old bolt-action Winchester. He braced it on the frame of the shattered passenger window, aiming it in her direction. The tiny black eye of the barrel was looking right at her.

And then Mark took another shot. She heard the crack of his pistol behind her and saw a little puff as the bullet clipped the frame of the passenger window. Derrick cursed suddenly and spun away, dropping his rifle in the process. Though vehicles had died all over the place, the engine of the SUV roared, as if he’d slammed his foot into the accelerator. It sounded like it was in neutral.

“Dad,” Nathan shouted. She saw him moving in the back seat of the SUV, reaching into the front.

Cooper got into the back beside him and pulled the kid into his seat. Melanie started to get up, intending to run back to the Jetta. Lizzy had ceased firing and was pressed flat again, arms over her head.

“No, Mel, stay down,” Mark shouted.

She dropped again, as the SUV began to move. Hunter was still hanging from the open driver’s door, but he pointed the gun over the top and fired blindly. One bullet pinged off the pavement just to Melanie’s right. The poor stranger was wailing over his companion at the edge of the parking lot, but his cry died suddenly, as if someone had hit an off switch. He started to rise, then dropped backward, falling across his companion.

Mark took another shot at the SUV and hit the right taillight, casting red plastic in the wake of the vehicle. As Hunter climbed into the back seat, Derrick floored it, racing across the parking lot, heading northwest, toward the far corner of the parking lot. Melanie saw the other men bouncing around in the back. Nathan dared a look out of the window, Cooper’s arm still firmly wrapped around him.

Then the vehicle bounced over the curb, cut across the short strip of grass, and landed in the road just beyond the traffic jam. Picking up speed, they headed back in the direction of the factory, moving ever faster.

“They’re gone,” Melanie said, tossing her gun onto the ground and grabbing Lizzy’s arms. “Get up. Let’s go. Come on.”

Lizzy allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. As Melanie started back toward the Jetta, she saw a little black mark at her feet, a place where a bullet had hit. She was shocked at how close it had come to her. From there, her gaze went to the bodies sprawled nearby, two innocent people killed in the shooting. She felt heartsick at the sight of it. People were still running in all directions. She heard terrified voices coming from all sides now, creating a haunting symphony of discordant noises.

She rushed to the Jetta just as Mark stepped out from behind the driver’s door. The sight of him finally broke through the numb terror of the last few minutes. She felt tears blurring her vision as she went to him, threw her arms around him, and collapsed against his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you found me,” she said.

“We were headed to the factory and got caught in the traffic jam,” he replied. “Are you hurt?”

“No, we’re both fine.”

She heard sobbing then and pulled away from Mark. Turning to find the source of it, she saw her daughter curled up on the front seat, hugging her backpack as tears ran down her face.

“Shona, dear, everything’s okay now,” she said.

“No, it’s not, Mom,” Shona replied. “We have to get out of here.”

Melanie glanced at the sky. The shimmering green light had diminished, but it wasn’t entirely gone. Most vehicles seemed to be dead, and people had abandoned them all over the place, in many instances just leaving their doors wide open as they fled.

“We have to get somewhere safe,” Mark said. “There’s absolute chaos in the city. It’ll only be worse now.”

“Where do we go?” Lizzy asked. She was standing off to one side, her arms wrapped around herself as if she were shivering. The gun was still clutched in her right hand. “Is any place safe?”

Melanie looked around, considering their predicament. Dead cars all over the place. Fried power lines. Panicked people. Dead bodies in the parking lot. And now the food factory was no longer an option. She was still sick to her stomach from the gunfight, and it made her feel weak and wobbly, scarcely able to keep standing.

“We can’t go back home,” Shona said, wiping her cheeks on her sleeve. “We barely got out of the city alive.”

“Maybe we just flee the area,” Mark said. “Get as far away as we can, head out into the wilderness. The Jetta still seems to be working, so we’re among the lucky few. What do you think?”

Melanie glanced toward the bodies in the parking lot. A few people had started to gather around them. “Maybe we should check on those people first,” she said. “I think Hunter shot them when he fired blindly over the top of the truck.”

But it didn’t seem like the victims needed her help. Strangers were already tending to them. One person checked the man’s pulse, pressing fingers against his neck, but after a moment, he shook his head.

It made Melanie sick to her stomach to think that she’d contributed to the deaths of innocent people.

Maybe if I’d found a way to escape without starting a gunfight, she thought. Maybe if I’d left sooner. Or if I’d never gotten in the truck with Derrick Platt in the first place.

Mark must have seen the guilt on her face, as he pulled her into an embrace and said, softly, “Don’t blame yourself for what other people did. It’s not your fault.”

“I just can’t believe…I mean…” She shook her head. “Derrick is so much worse than I ever suspected. It’s like I never really knew the man.”

“This solar event will make a lot of people show their true colors,” Mark said. “So let’s get out of here and keep our daughter safe. Where should we go?”

But Melanie looked up at the shimmering green light. So beautiful. Under different circumstances, she might have just soaked it in. “We need to know more about what’s going on before we decide where we’re going.”

18

At first, Melanie was going to climb in the back seat, but then her daughter crawled into the back and sat beside Lizzy. She took the front instead. Once they were all inside the Jetta and the doors were shut, the whole day finally caught up to Melanie. The sheer horror of what had happened just swept over her, and she began to tremble violently, worrying at the denim of her purse with both hands. Mark didn’t start the car right away. Instead, he was turned in his seat, looking at her, clearly concerned about her well-being. She met his gaze and tried to give him a reassuring nod.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Lizzy and I are both fine. Can we just get out of here, please?”

“That was your boss,” he said, “but who were the other guys with him?”

“It turns out our boss is part of some cult or club,” she said. “It’s a long story. He was going to give us a ride into town, but then everything went to hell. Long story short? He’s a maniac.”

She glanced out her window and saw people carrying the bodies of the two strangers away. She couldn’t tell if either of them was alive, but they’d left quite a bit of blood on the pavement. Melanie felt another twinge of guilt.

“Please, can we go?” Lizzy said, leaning against the back of Mark’s seat. She was clutching her inhaler in her hand, as if comforted by the feel of it. Her face was flushed, eyes wet from crying. “I really want to check on my parents. If things are even worse than this in town, I don’t know how they’ll manage.”

“Okay, we’re going,” Mark said. He grabbed the key and turned the ignition.

The car didn’t respond. It didn’t do anything at all. Melanie glanced at the dashboard and realized the instrument panel wasn’t lit up. As Mark turned the ignition again, she reached up and pressed the button to turn on the interior lights. Nothing.

They looked at each other.

“Oh, no,” she said, her heart sinking.

“What? What is it?” Shona asked nervously from the back seat. “What happened to the car?”

“It’s dead,” Mark said. “It got fried.”

“Why?” Shona said. “Is it because of the lights in the sky?”

“Related,” Mark replied. “The plasma cloud causes a shock wave of charged particles when it hits our magnetic field. That’s why we’re seeing auroral lights in the sky right now. Our magnetic field is going haywire, and all of that activity is wreaking havoc on electrical systems…including my nice Jetta.” He sighed and patted the steering wheel in what seemed like an affectionate gesture. “I’m afraid the car is toast.”

Lizzy dragged her hands through her hair, making a long, exasperated sound. “My poor parents are probably going crazy right now, worrying about me, wondering what to do, confused. I can’t just sit here, guys. I have to get to them.”

“Well, the car’s not going anywhere.” Mark gestured out the window. “I’m afraid we’re on foot now.”

Melanie turned and scanned the traffic. Indeed, many people had raised the hoods on their vehicles, and they were rooting around inside, as if they might discover the source of their engine problems. Many others had just abandoned their vehicles and were walking away. She saw entire families walking down the shoulder. One old man was pulling a small suitcase on rollers.

But then she thought of something else. The SUV. As the other cars had been dying, Derrick had driven his friend’s old police vehicle away. Somehow, it hadn’t been affected. At first, Melanie wondered if maybe his little doomsday cult had figured out a way to protect the vehicle from the CME. But then she spotted another vehicle far in the distance. An 80s-model Camry, it was passing stopped vehicles by using the middle turn lane.

“Why do some cars still work?” she asked.

“Older models might survive,” Mark said with a shrug. “They have fewer electronics to fry. If they’re old enough, they’re almost purely mechanical.”

“How long is this going to last?” Lizzy said. “When the sun stops puking on the earth, will things go back to normal?”

Mark hesitated a second before answering. “The damage is done, I’m afraid. Even after the solar event is over, all of these cars will still be dead. Electrical systems are fried, Liz. They’ve been blasted. They’re irreparable. That includes the entire power grid for however big an area has been affected.”

“You mean, we’ll never have power ever again?”

“Well, it can’t be repaired, but it can eventually be replaced, piece by piece,” he said. “That’s going to take a long time. A very long time.”

Melanie had a thought, and she turned to look back in the direction of the parking lot. Derrick’s old pickup truck was still sitting there. In his haste to get away, he’d abandoned it. The driver’s door was wide open. Melanie opened her own door and leaned outside.

“Where are you going?” Mark asked.

“Derrick’s truck,” she said. “He left it behind. Do you think there’s any chance it still runs?”

“It’s possible,” Mark replied. “It’s old enough.”

“I can’t believe he just left it,” Lizzy said from the back seat. “It’s got all of his stuff in it.”

“He was clearly in hurry to get back to the factory,” Melanie said, “and I think Mark might have hit him. A bullet went through the passenger door of the SUV.”

“Good,” Mark said. “I hope I did.”

Melanie got out of the car, grabbed her purse, and headed for the pickup truck. The symphony of voices coming from all sides echoed across the big parking lot in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. This did indeed sound like a dying world. People were still scattering, even as the aurora borealis persisted.

She heard the others getting out of the Jetta. Shona ran to her side, slipping the straps of her backpack over her shoulder. Melanie’s daughter was fifteen, but the day’s events seemed to have made her regress somewhat. The wide-eyed look on her face, her hunched posture, her furtive glances—all of it made her seem years younger. Mark went to the trunk and grabbed a large suitcase before following, pulling it on rollers. Lizzy came last, gun in one hand, inhaler in the other. When they got to the truck, Melanie slipped behind the steering wheel, hoping against hope that Derrick had left the keys in the ignition. No such luck.

“We’ll have to jumpstart the thing,” she noted, as Shona climbed into the back seat.

“Do you know how to do that, Mom?” Shona asked, crunching on papers and trash.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Whoa, seriously?” Shona said. “Why would you know that? Did you used to steal cars?”

“None of your business,” Melanie said.

Lizzy climbed into the back seat with Shona. Mark hoisted the suitcase into the bed of the truck, then sat down in the passenger seat.

“Don’t judge me for knowing how to do this,” Melanie said to her husband.

He gave her a wry smile as he pulled his door shut. Melanie rooted around in the toolbox in the back seat until she found a big, rusty Philips-head screwdriver. Then she went to work removing the plastic cover from the steering column. Once she’d pulled it off and set it aside, she dug through the wires to locate the battery and ignition wire bundles. With a pocket knife, she stripped about an inch of the battery wires and twisted them together.

“Mom, you’re like an old pro at this. What kind of people did you used to hang out with?”

Melanie met her daughter’s gaze in the rearview mirror and winked. “The kinds of people I don’t ever want you hanging out with.”

She connected the ignition wire to the battery wire, and suddenly the dash lights came on. Shona gaped in amazement.

“Not quite done,” Melanie said. “There’s one more step.”

Working carefully, she stripped the starter wire and touched the end to the battery wires. It sparked, and the engine suddenly roared to life. This caused Lizzy to give a little whoop of excitement, and Mark applauded.

“Mom, that was awesome,” Shona said. “You hot-wired a truck! Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it, kid,” she replied. And she felt strangely proud of herself. All of that unsavory knowledge she’d gained during her worst years had somehow elevated her in her own daughter’s eyes.

Melanie revved the engine a few times so it wouldn’t stall. Then she disconnected the wires and capped them.

“Please, tell me we’re headed back into town,” Lizzy said. “I really, really have to get to my parents as soon as possible. They’re not cut out for this sort of thing.”

Melanie glanced at Mark, and he nodded. She had to get Lizzy to her parents. After all, they were practically her own parents as well.

“Tell me you’re wrong,” she said to Mark, as she put the truck into gear. “Tell me you exaggerated a little bit. Surely the whole power grid hasn’t been destroyed, has it?”

“I’m afraid so,” he replied.

“Do you realize what that means?” she said, cutting across the parking lot to an exit on the far end.

“It means our whole lives will probably never go back to the way they were,” he said. “It means civilization has been brought down.”

“Civilization brought down,” Lizzy echoed, burying her face against the back of Melanie’s headrest. “It all happened so suddenly. Nobody told us this was coming. Where were all the news reports? We should have been hearing about this for weeks, months…years!”

“No, we do monitor for solar storm activity, but it takes a matter of hours for a CME to reach us, not days,” Mark said. “By the time our warning system alerted us, we had maybe fifteen minutes before it hit, which is about the time my colleagues starting texting each other like crazy.”

“It can’t be. It just can’t be,” Lizzy said. She was wheezing again, struggling to catch her breath. “Please, Melanie, hurry and get me home. I’m begging you.”

“I can only go so fast,” Melanie replied. “There are stopped vehicles everywhere, and we have to be careful.”

Lizzy leaned over the middle of the front seat suddenly, pointing at something. Melanie was approaching the exit, intending to cut over a strip of grass to reach open road beyond the traffic jam. She realized Lizzy was pointing at a streetlight far in the distance. Somehow, it was still shining, though it seemed unusually bright.

“Look, that light is working,” Lizzy said. “Doesn’t that mean we still have power?”

“What you’re seeing there is a power surge,” Mark replied. “As the earth’s magnetic field freaks out, systems are going haywire, but they are like death throes.”

Indeed, even before he’d finished speaking, the streetlight flickered and went out. Melanie thumped over a curb and wound up on the shoulder of the access road. She headed back toward town, but it was slow going, as she continually had to weave around stopped vehicles.

“You knew this was a possibility,” she said to Mark. “Maybe you didn’t know it was going to happen today, but you knew it was at least possible.”

“Coronal mass ejections aren’t a secret,” he replied with a sigh. “I got a bit of a head start thanks to my colleagues, but there’s just not much anyone can do to prepare for something like this unless they want to dedicate their entire life to preparing for it, like your boss there. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you,” Melanie said softly.

She just couldn’t accept it. Civilization brought down. For some reason, she wanted to argue with him about this. She wanted to make him take it back. But she knew Mark wasn’t a liar. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it. As she drove toward Knoxville, she tried to envision a future with no power, no electricity, a world that would never fully recover. What would it mean for her daughter? Just thinking about Shona’s future made her heart sink.

Don’t think about all of that, she told herself. Just think about your immediate next step. Get to Lizzy’s house and make sure the Turners are okay. That’s it. You can worry about what comes after that later.

19

Shona was actually quite impressed with how well she was keeping it all together, especially since she felt like having a complete meltdown. Still, her last glimpse of Nathan Platt as he’d watched them out the back window of the SUV had shaken her to her core. The poor boy looked terrified. She could still see his messy black hair, his eyes full of pain and terror. What if he’d been shot? What if his last desperate cry, calling out for his father, had been a cry for help because he was dying?

No, no, don’t think like that, she told herself, pulling her backpack into her lap. He was worried about his dad. That’s all it was.

The road back to Knoxville was slow, too slow. It didn’t help that a section of the back window of the truck had been shot out, so wind was constantly blasting into the cab, carrying with it the faint smell of smoke. Vehicles had stopped all over the place. In fact, it looked like almost every newer-model car had been destroyed by the solar event. When Shona looked out the side window, she saw scared, sad, desperate people standing in the road, walking down the shoulder. Was it going to be like this forever? She couldn’t accept that. Just letting the thought, the possibility, take root made panic start to well up inside of her. She felt it high in her belly, a kind of tingling electrical sensation, as if her stomach had become a live wire.

She decided to just not look outside. Better not to see all the terrified people, all the dead cars and dead streetlights and dark windows in the deepening evening gloom. Shona leaned back in her seat, pressing herself into the angle between her seat and the door, and hugged her backpack. Then she fixed her gaze on the shadows in the footwell beneath her seat. She would have slept, if she could have, to pass the time, but she didn’t think she would ever sleep again.

One minute, I was enjoying ichigo Christmas cake at Japanese language club, the next minute I’m fleeing for my life as the world ends, she thought.

After a while, she felt the truck coming to a stop, and she dared to look up again. Mom was coming to a stop by the side of the road. She saw a stalled van in the left lane, but otherwise they weren’t blocked. Fearing that something bad was happening, Shona sat up straight, inadvertently bumping into her mom’s friend Lizzy, who patted her on the back and gave her a reassuring look.

“Are we okay?” Shona asked.

Through the windshield, she saw more stalled vehicles and a distant fire of some kind, but nothing terrible in their immediate vicinity.

“We’re fine for now,” Mom said. Then she turned to Shona’s father and grabbed his arm. “Mark, I need you to drive for a while. I’m sorry, but I’m just so exhausted at this point. It has been a long, long awful day.”

“No problem,” Dad replied. “I’ve got it. Let’s trade places, and you can rest.”

Instead of getting out of the truck, they traded places by awkwardly crawling over each other. Shona was glad for it. For some reason, she felt anxious about having the doors open right now. Outside was getting darker, and with few vehicle lights or streetlights, it was an unusual amount of darkness.

“I’m going to find us the easiest path to the Turners’ house,” Dad said, putting his seatbelt in place. “The big roads like this are clogged, and I’m a bit nervous about driving past all these people. Too much desperation.”

“Yeah, probably for the best,” Mom replied, stifling a loud yawn.

Indeed, even as her father said it, Shona glanced out her window and saw a group of people running across a nearby parking lot. After a second, she realized it was a group of men chasing someone, shouting and threatening him. The fleeing man was holding his head, and she thought she saw blood running down his face. She quickly averted her gaze.

“When did everyone decide to go crazy?” she muttered, thinking out loud.

“They were already crazy,” Lizzy replied. “This is just bringing out who they always were.”

Shona didn’t like that thought at all. She wanted to think better of people. How could Lizzy be so cynical? She glanced at her mother’s friend, but her gaze was drawn to the rifles hanging from racks on the back window, then to the handguns holstered against the back seat. In her panic, she hadn’t noticed them before, but now they just seemed like more insanity.

As they reached the city, her father left the access road, cutting through side streets. Shona didn’t bother trying to figure out where they were. It was better not to look out the windows, so she kept her gaze lowered. Again, however, she had that last glimpse of Nathan on her mind, his terrified face as the SUV raced away from the scene of the gunfight. Though she was worried about him, in a strange way it helped to think about him instead of the crazy world outside the truck.

“Mom,” she said, daring to broach the subject. “Was Nathan’s dad always such a bad guy? I never thought he would try to kill us.”

“Yeah, he’s a monster,” her mother said with a sigh. “I thought I knew Derrick Platt, but I was wrong. He showed his true colors. Shona, when was the last time you saw Nathan before today?”

Shona wasn’t sure why her mom was asking the question, and she hesitated to answer, initially embarrassed. “Well…I guess it was a couple days ago at school,” she said finally. “Actually, I wondered where he was today, since it was the last day of school before winter break.”

“But you hang out with him sometimes, don’t you?” Mom asked. “Has he ever struck you as…I don’t know…odd or disturbed?”

“We hang out sometimes, yeah,” Shona agreed. Actually, it was a bit more than that, but she wasn’t about to admit it in a truck full of people. She kind of liked Nathan, even though others thought he was awkward. Her friends sometimes teased her when they saw her talking to him, but she thought he was cute—tall and lean, with a nice smile. She liked the way his hair was always a little bit messy. She’d been hoping he might ask her to prom in the spring, though prom was almost certainly off the table now. Indeed, maybe school was a thing of the past. “Mom, Nathan Platt is a nice boy. He’s always friendly and helpful, despite whatever his dad is like. He’s not odd or disturbed or anything like that.”

“Did he ever say anything about his father?” she asked. “Did he ever mention anything about a secret club?”

“No, he doesn’t talk about his parents or his home life,” she said. “Ever. Even if you ask questions, he changes the subject. What are we going to do about him? Nathan looked right at me as they were driving away, and he was so scared. What’s wrong with his father?”

She heard her mom take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and let it out. Dad glanced at her, eyes narrowed in a look of concern.

“At first, I thought Derrick Platt was a prepper,” she said. “That I could understand. In fact, in light of today’s events, it would seem like the preppers of the world were the smart ones. However, it seems more like what my boss has planned is like some kind of end-of-the-world cult—and they’re planning to turn Beaton’s Food Factory into a cult compound. He’s already stocked up with supplies, but he was talking about raiding other businesses in the community.”

“Tell them the part where we got locked in his secret supply closet full of guns and medical supplies,” Lizzy said, “and how you picked the door lock like a master thief and broke us out of there.”

“Really, Mom?” Shona said. If the end of the world had any upside, it was the fact that Shona was learning some amazing things about her mother. Who was this woman, after all? “You can pick locks too?”

“Uh…yeah, it’s a skill I learned as a kid,” Mom replied. “There are some things you don’t know about my past, Shona, but let’s talk about that some other time.”

She started to say more, but Dad suddenly jammed on the brakes. Shona was thrown forward and hit the back of the front seat, but her backpack cushioned the blow. The big toolbox on the seat beside her tumbled onto the floorboard, the lid popping open so about a hundred tools gushed out.

“Damned lunatics,” Mark muttered.

When Shona leaned to one side to see past her mom, she realized they were driving through a small commercial area. A large group of people were gathered around the front of a dollar store. The front windows had been smashed, and they were looting it. Indeed, a line of people was streaming across the street, some carrying overflowing bags, others pushing shopping carts.

“Looting a dollar store,” Lizzy said. “Really? All of the stores you could steal from, and they pick a dollar store.”

“It’s got food and basic household supplies,” Mark replied. “Those are going to be worth more than gold once civilization has crumbled.”

“Oh, gosh, I didn’t think of it that way,” Lizzy said. “A world where people act like animals just to get their hands on toilet paper and milk.”

People weren’t making room for them to pass, so finally Mark revved the engine. A few people turned toward the truck then, but rather than move aside, they actually started to approach. Indeed, Shona thought they had hungry looks on their faces. Suddenly, it occurred to her that having a functioning vehicle might make them a huge target in this crumbling world. Mark let off the brake and surged forward. That finally did the trick. People dove out of the way, but he clipped a shopping cart in passing. It went tumbling along the street, casting its contents all over the place. A cascade of soda cans, potato chip bags, toilet paper rolls, and water bottles went flying.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Dad said.

“It was all stolen stuff,” Mom replied. “Don’t feel bad about it. The thieves can spend a few minutes picking it up as penance.”

Shona glanced back and saw a couple of men running after the truck, shaking their fists, but they were quickly left in the dust.

“Let’s try to avoid looters from now on,” Mom said.

“You got it,” Dad said.

Unfortunately, looters were everywhere. They passed an electronics store that was being ransacked, a convenience store that was being torn apart, a cell phone store that had been turned upside down. No business was left untouched. Dead vehicles were everywhere, but Shona did spot a few operating vehicles here and there. All of them were older models, like the truck. The more chaos she saw, the more frightened Shona became, until her heart seemed to be pounding in her throat, her blood rushing in her ears.

Finally, they ran a four-way stop sign, blazing past some shady people lingering in the dark, and Lizzy leaned forward, pointing straight ahead.

“That’s it,” she said. “That’s my neighborhood. Mount Pleasant.”

“I know. We’ve been here many times,” Dad noted.

“I used to live here,” Melanie said.

“Oh, yeah,” Lizzy said, smacking the side of her head. “I guess everything before the sun freaked out is becoming a blur.”

The housing development sign was a simple brick wall with silver lettering across the front. There was nothing particularly notable about the neighborhood, just endless single-family homes along winding streets. Dad slowed the truck as they approached the sign and turned into the neighborhood. The road sloped upward onto a low ridge, where the houses stood in the midst of towering trees.

Just then, light appeared in the distance, moving across the houses at the top of the ridge. Ahead, the road forked. Dad slowed further, easing toward the left fork, but another vehicle appeared from that direction. As it got closer, Shona realized it was another old-model pickup truck. She saw the driver through the windshield: a hint of red hair and a big belly straining against the steering wheel.

As the truck passed them, heading down the hill and out of the neighborhood, Shona saw some large object wrapped in cloth in the bed of the truck. She heard a dog barking. But then they were gone. The other truck picked up speed as it headed downhill and left the neighborhood without slowing at the intersection.

“There! There!” Lizzy said, jabbing her finger at the windshield. “That’s my parents’ house right there.”

“I know,” Dad said.

“Sorry, I just…please, hurry.”

The Turners lived in a nice house near the end of the street. The first story was red brick, the second white siding. Mrs. Turner kept a nice garden behind a low picket fence in the front yard. But Shona’s gaze was quickly drawn away. As they slowed and pulled into the driveway, she saw a broken living room window and a curtain swaying in and out with the evening breeze. Then she noticed the clear bullet holes punched through the white front door, through the siding, through some of the other windows. She groaned and hugged her backpack as tightly as she could.

“Oh, God,” Lizzy cried. “No, no, no! Let me out, Mark! Let me out now!”

The truck hadn’t come to a complete stop when Lizzy reached past him and grabbed the door handle. As soon as the door was open, she pulled herself over the top of the seat, crawled over Mark’s lap, and fell through the door, landing with a huff on the driveway. As Melanie got out on the other side, Lizzy took off running, heading around the front of the truck toward the porch.

The panic had taken hold of Shona now, and she was breathing so fast that it made her dizzy. Out of instinct, she started to get out of the car, intending to follow her mother, but Dad reached back and grabbed her arm.

“No, you stay here, honey,” he said. “You don’t want to go in there. Let your mother help.”

Her mom hurried to catch up to Lizzy, who was now wailing loudly as she stepped up onto the porch.

20

As soon as Melanie saw the bullet holes in the door, she knew what to expect. Her old instincts kicked in and told her everything she needed to know. In fact, she was tempted to grab Lizzy and pull her away, bundling her back into the truck, so she wouldn’t have to see what was inside the house. It was quiet, too quiet.

Unfortunately, Lizzy was already at the door, fumbling with the doorknob. Her right foot slipped on some scattered glass, but she caught herself with her free hand against the doorframe. Then she pulled open the door. It wasn’t locked.

“Wait. Be careful,” Melanie said softly. “Don’t rush in. We don’t know what’s going on in there.”

But Lizzy didn’t seem to hear her. She pushed the door so hard it swung all the way against the wall and banged into the stopper. Then she rushed inside, stumbling against the threshold. The house was dark, the only light coming from the truck’s headlights shining through the living room window. The small foyer opened on a lushly overdecorated living room, but everything in the room was moved out of place. The couch and love seat had both been dragged away from the wall. The doors of a large hutch were wide open, the items on its shelves strewn about. A coffee table had been shoved to one side, and Mr. Turner’s recliner was tipped on its side.

Lizzy scarcely reacted to the chaos in the living room. Instead, she took a sharp left toward the kitchen. Melanie was a few steps behind, looking around the living room for some indication of what had been taken, but Lizzy cried out suddenly. It was a heart-rending cry. She stumbled toward the archway that led into the kitchen and collapsed onto the carpet.

Melanie had anticipated the moment, her whole body tense with expectation. She’d known what they would find inside. She’d felt it. As she turned toward the kitchen, she saw the bodies on the carpet near the kitchen table. Mr. Turner was on his side, turned away from them, his right arm stretched out, hand resting on the leg of the second body. Mrs. Turner was on her stomach, face turned to one side.

The smell of blood filled the stale air of the kitchen. Melanie knelt down beside Lizzy, numb and unsure how to respond. The Turners were the closest thing she had to real parents.

“We should’ve gotten here faster,” Lizzy said. “I knew they were in trouble! Somehow, I just knew!”

And then, as if prompted by Lizzy’s voice, Melanie heard a sudden gurgling sound. She leaned in closer and realized at least one of the Turners was breathing. No, not one. Both. She could hear both of them breathing.

“They’re alive,” she said, reaching out and laying her hand on Mr. Turner’s shoulder.

“What?” Lizzy cried. She dropped down onto her hand and knees, leaning in close to her father’s face. “Oh, my gosh, Dad, can you hear me? Say something!”

But it was Mrs. Turner who spoke. She moaned, sucked in a wet breath, and said in a whisper, “Liz, Mel, goodness, tell me you’re okay.” She was wearing a light blue housedress that was bloody along the left side all the way from shoulder to hip.

“Mom, don’t worry about us,” Lizzy said. “What happened?”

Mrs. Turner started to reply, but her voice just sort of trailed off into unintelligible moans. Lizzy took both of her hands.

“It’s okay, Mom. Don’t try to speak if you can’t do it. Just relax. We’re going to help you.”

Max Turner twitched then, rolling onto his back, and Melanie saw that his eyes were open.

“We were packing up the car,” he said, his voice thick and full of pain. “I went to the shed in back to get my tools. Thought we might need them. And I surprised a couple of guys in there.” He tried to sit up, but he only managed to raise his head a few times before giving up.

“Lie still, sir,” Melanie said.

“They knew what they were after,” he said weakly, “but I had my Ruger with me. Took a couple of shots at them when they ran away, but then they returned fire. They must’ve had guns in their coat pockets or something. We barely made it back inside the house.”

“Where are you hit?” Lizzy asked. “How bad is it?”

“Suddenly, I heard this ringing in my ears,” Mr. Turner said. “There wasn’t any pain right away. Then I felt heat, terrible heat, all inside my head.” He took a shuddering breath and moaned.

Melanie reached up and gently grabbed his chin, tilting his head to one side. The bullet wound was obvious. It had hit him in the head just above the ear, cutting back at an angle. This had created a deep, bloody groove that slashed through his gray hair. As Melanie examined the wound, Lizzy crawled around to her mother’s side. Melanie could tell by her fast breathing that Lizzy was on the verge of another asthma attack.

“She took a bullet that was meant for me,” Mr. Turner said, becoming suddenly emotional. He uttered a sob, but then the surge of pain caused him to moan loudly again. “They’d already hit me, and then they pointed the gun again, barrel right between my eyes, for the killing shot. Sue pushed me out of the way, and they hit her instead. I don’t know how many times. We both tumbled to the ground.” He groaned again, loud and long. “They shot up the front of the house before they drove off. I guess trying to keep us inside. Please, check on Sue. She’s very hurt. Please…”

When they rolled Mrs. Turner onto her back, the front of her dress stuck to the large pool of blood beneath her. There was a lot more than Melanie had realized. It had flowed down toward her feet and pooled under the kitchen table. The front of her dress was soaked all the way down to the hem.

“Mom, say something.” Lizzy patted her cheek, but Melanie knew it was futile. Still, she examined the front of the dress, looking for the bullet holes. She found three of them: two in her chest, one just above her navel. They appeared to be from a large-caliber bullet.

For there to be this much blood, they must have hit an artery, she thought. Her heart sank.

“We have to do something,” Lizzy said. She reached up and grabbed the nearest countertop, pulling herself to her feet. “I’ll get some towels. Hang on.”

She hurried across the kitchen and pulled open a drawer beside the sink.

What’s the use? Melanie thought, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. When Lizzy began tossing kitchen towels at her, she caught them and pressed them against Mrs. Turner’s wounds. She emptied the entire drawer of towels, and it wasn’t nearly enough to soak up all the blood. The stench of it was so strong in Melanie’s nostrils, she felt like vomiting.

Mrs. Turner twitched. It startled Melanie, and she actually backed away. Lizzy, however, came running and dropped to her knees at her mother’s side, though her knees went right into the blood.

“Mom!” she cried, taking her hand and lifting it.

Mrs. Turner’s eyes opened, first one and then the other. They were dilated and rolled about listlessly at first before finally settling on Melanie’s face. Her lips parted, and she seemed like she was on the verge of saying something, but only a long breath came out. Melanie crawled toward her and took her other hand. Even Max reached over, grabbing her forearm.

“Be…” Mrs. Turner managed a single weak word. She groaned, and her face scrunched up in pain. “Be strong for one another. Stick together, and…you’ll be okay…” She pulled a face that might have been a smile, though it quickly faltered.

“Girls, please, give us some privacy,” Mr. Turner said, choking suddenly on a sob. “Get the first aid kit from the bathroom. Please, we need a minute.”

Melanie rose, wiping her hands on the last clean towel. She backed away, beckoning for Lizzy to follow. Her friend seemed reluctant, taking her time to set her mother’s hands onto her belly. Then she rose, weeping, and walked out of the kitchen, wiping her bloody hands on her pant legs as she headed back across the living room. Melanie went after her and put an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, Liz,” she said.

But Lizzy just waved her blood-flecked hands in response and cut through the foyer to the hall bathroom. Melanie heard some whispered conversation taking place in the kitchen, but she couldn’t make out the words. By the time she got to the bathroom, Lizzy had already dug the big plastic first aid kit out from under the sink. But then she just stood there, tears running down her face. Finally, Melanie gently plucked it from her grasp.

“I want them to pay,” Lizzy said. “Whoever did this, I want them to pay.”

“I know,” Melanie replied. “Me too. And if we get a chance…”

Suddenly, Mr. Turner cried out hoarsely from the kitchen. Lizzy gasped, lifted her head, and pushed past Melanie. Still holding the first aid kit, Melanie went after her. When they got there, they found to, their amazement, that Mr. Turner was sitting up. He was holding one of his wife’s hands and gently stroking it.

“Dad, what are you doing?” Lizzy said. “You have to lie down!”

But he shook his head and looked up at them. “She’s gone, girls. Your mother is gone.” And with that, he burst into tears and pressed her hand to his cheek.

“Are you sure?” Lizzy wailed. She stooped down, reaching for Mrs. Turner, but her father raised an arm to block her.

“I’m sure. We said our goodbyes. Leave her in peace.”

When a voice spoke over Melanie’s shoulder, she was so startled, she lurched forward and almost dropped the first aid kit.

“We should get him onto the couch.” It was Mark. He’d come inside the house at some point. Now, he took the first aid kit out of Melanie’s hand and set it on the kitchen table. “Come on, Mel. Help me carry him.”

“I’m fine,” Mr. Turner snapped. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

But when Mark grabbed him around the chest and Melanie grabbed his legs, he didn’t resist. They hoisted him off the ground and carried him into the living room.

“We have to be sure,” Lizzy said, shuffling after them.

“I’ve had worse injuries than this,” he insisted, as they laid him down on the couch. Lizzy positioned a pillow under his head. “You don’t need to fuss about it.”

“We’re fussing,” Mark said. “Let us clean and bandage the wound, so it doesn’t get infected.”

Lizzy popped open the lid of the first aid kit and began handing supplies to Melanie.

“Shouldn’t we take him to a hospital?” Melanie said. “He might have a concussion. Heck, he might have a fractured skull. We need to be sure.”

“I don’t need a bunch of people in scrubs telling me what I already know,” Mr. Turner replied. He turned his head to one side so Mark and Melanie could clean the wound. “Leave the hospitals for the gravely ill and seriously injured, thank you very much.”

Well, he was as gruff and stubborn as ever, at least. Melanie took that as a good sign. Mr. Turner had a heart of gold, but he was a grumbly old man, especially when people were “making a fuss” about something. Still, he endured their meticulous cleaning and bandaging of the wound. The bullet had cut pretty deep and left an ugly groove about three inches long, but it was, after all, a flesh wound. It hadn’t penetrated his skull.

“Max, what did the thieves take?” Mark asked, applying some disinfectant to the wound. “What were they after?”

“They grabbed my old industrial generator,” Mr. Turner replied, wincing in pain from the disinfectant. “The one I used to keep in my shop at the high school. The way that generator was built, it could withstand a nuclear winter.”

“Did they get anything else?” Mark said.

“I think they grabbed my big toolbox,” Mr. Turned replied. “Did you guys happen to see Dusty out there in the yard? She was barking up a storm when this all went down, but I haven’t heard from her since. Oh, I hope they didn’t shoot her. They wouldn’t shoot a dog, would they? Not even thieves are that low.”

The reality of the situation was finally starting to sink in, as Melanie realized she’d just lost the only real mother figure she’d ever had in her life. Her biological mom had been more of a terror figure than anything else, but Sue Turner had filled the void. She’d actually given Melanie a foundation to stand on during her teenage years. Losing her like this made her ache. Lizzy was sitting on the coffee table, her head in her hands, and Melanie put an arm around her.

Sue and Max taught me what it’s like to be in a family, Melanie thought. More than that, they listened to me when I ran away from home. They didn’t just hand me back to my awful parents. They listened and believed me. I never got to tell her just how much it meant to me.

“I’ll tell you what, Max. I’ll go look for Dusty,” Mark said, standing up. “Maybe the shooting scared her, and she’s cowering somewhere. Your wound is bandaged, but try not to move around too much.”

He nodded sadly at Melanie and walked back into the kitchen. Melanie heard him moving the body of Mrs. Turner. She didn’t bother to look. Better if he took care of it. After a moment, the back door opened as Mark went into the yard to check on the Turners’ little Jack Russell mix. When he was gone, Melanie took his place beside the couch, gently patting Mr. Turner on the chest. Tears in his eyes, he stared blankly at the ceiling, clearly still in shock, as Lizzy cried quietly beside them.

“I don’t even know what to do now,” Mr. Turner said. “What’s next? Where do I go? I can’t stay here, not like this, but…”

“Don’t worry about it, Dad,” Melanie said. “We’ll take care of everything. You have to rest and recover. We’re going to need your expertise in the days ahead, okay? We need you, so you have to get better.”

“Need my…expertise.” He echoed the words as if he didn’t know what they meant. “I can’t imagine why.”

Mark returned then, shutting the back door and setting the deadbolt. “No sign of Dusty,” he said, coming back to the living room. “The gate was open, so she must’ve gotten out.”

When Melanie looked in his direction, she realized he had indeed moved Mrs. Turner’s body. She didn’t ask where. Maybe to the shed. It was for the best. Mr. Turner shook his head sadly.

“Dusty tried to warn us,” he said. “She was barking before they pulled into the driveway. Then she tried to protect us. I hope they didn’t harm that poor sweet animal.”

“Well, there’s no indication that she was shot,” Mark said. “No blood. Perhaps she tried to chase the thieves out of the neighborhood?”

Melanie saw something in her mind’s eye then, some recent image. At the time, she hadn’t really paid attention to it. A pickup truck, driver with red hair, dog barking, some large object in the bed of the truck.

Before she could fully recall, she heard a loud rumbling sound coming from outside. With the power off, everything was so darn quiet now, but it made outside noises much easier to hear. Melanie turned and looked back across the living room. A shadow stood in the dimness of the foyer, and she felt a little jolt. When she rose from her seat on the coffee table, the shadow shifted, and she realized it was Shona. Her daughter was pressed up against the front door, gazing through the peephole.

“What do you see, Shona?” Melanie asked.

“Truck creeping down the street,” she said. “Same one we saw before.”

It was an old, throaty engine, clanking like it had a loose piston. Melanie felt a shiver go down her spine.

“They’re coming back,” she said.

“Thieves must think we’re dead now,” Mr. Turner said. “Maybe they picked up some help, and they’ve come back to get the rest of my stuff. Are you armed?”

“I’ve got my Glock,” Mark said, patting his hip. “We left a bunch of weapons out in the truck. I’ll go and get them.”

“No need,” Mr. Turner said. “I left my pistol on the kitchen table. You’ll find more bullets in my gun cabinet in the den.”

Melanie looked at Mark, and he nodded at her. As the growling sound of the engine drew closer, she rose and headed to the den at the back of the house. The Turners had a nice wood-paneled den behind the kitchen. A quaint space, it was dominated by an enormous oil painting of a forested scene. To a casual observer, there wasn’t much else besides a couch, a small table and lamp, and a low bookshelf. However, Melanie headed to a door in the corner. She opened it to reveal Mr. Turner’s gun case, a sturdy steel cabinet with a big combination lock.

“You know the combination?” Mark asked.

“Lizzy’s birthday,” Melanie said, turning the lock. She popped the lock and swung the door open. The Turners didn’t have as many guns as Derrick Platt, but they weren’t helpless. A .357 Magnum, Mr. Turner’s home protection of choice, was currently sitting on the kitchen table, but Melanie grabbed a box of bullets and handed them to Mark. Inside the cabinet, he also had a Mossberg Model 590 pump-action shotgun and a few extra shells. Finally, there was Mr. Turner’s favorite hunting rifle, a Timber Classic Marlin 336C, a lever-action rifle with a nice wooden stock.

Tucking the shotgun and rifle into the crook of her arm and carrying extra ammo in her right hand, she walked back to the living room. Mark diverted into the kitchen to grab the Magnum, and they laid out their weapons on the coffee table.

“Mark’s Glock, a shotgun, Dad’s handgun, the hunting rifle,” Melanie noted. She reached into her jacket pocket and produced one of the handguns from Derrick’s truck. “And this.”

“I’ve still got my gun, as well,” Lizzy said, producing the other handgun from Derrick’s truck.

Shona had come into the living room and sat beside Lizzy. “I had the Beretta,” she said, “but I left it in my backpack in the truck.”

“That’s fine,” Melanie said. “We’ve got six weapons. Okay, who’s taking what?”

The growling engine was loud now, and headlights were moving across the narrow windows on either side of the front door.

“Just prop me up and give me the Marlin,” Mr. Turner said, struggling to sit up.

Lizzy laid a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down. “No, Dad, let us handle this.”

“Actually, we should move him to a safer place in the house,” Mark said. “Along with Shona. Let’s go. Come on. These guys are close.”

He leaned down, worked his arms around Mr. Turner’s chest, and hoisted him off the couch. Melanie grabbed his legs, and they carried him off, as he grunted and groaned in discomfort. They took him down the hall to the bathroom. Lizzy and Shona followed, bringing a couple of pillows from the living room couch. They laid Mr. Turner down on the carpeted floor near the linen closet and propped him on the pillows to make him as comfortable as possible.

“I’m fine. Don’t fuss,” he said, waving a hand in front of his face. “Just protect the house. Get those guys if you can, please.”

“Shona, stay in here with him,” Melanie said, directing her daughter to a small padded bench in the corner. “Lock the door.” She set the .357 Magnum on the lid of a laundry hamper. “Use this if they try to get through.”

Shona stumbled backward until she bumped up against the sink, then she reached back to brace herself. Still, she managed a slight nod. It would have to do. Melanie stepped out of the bathroom and headed back to the living room. As she did, she saw the headlights sweeping from the road back to the house, as the truck pulled into the driveway.

“Yep, this house is the target,” she said. “Get ready for a fight.”

She rushed to the coffee table and considered the weapons. Finally, she decided on the Mossberg and Derrick’s handgun. She tucked a few extra shells into her pocket and turned. Lizzy was looking through the window beside the front door. As she did that, Mark grabbed the hunting rifle and his Glock.

“Lizzy, arm yourself,” Melanie said.

“I can’t tell how many people are in the truck,” she replied. “They parked at an angle so the headlights are shining right at the front door.”

“Is it the same truck we passed earlier?” Melanie asked.

“Yeah, and…” She stopped, cocking her head to one side. “Do you hear that?”

A dog barking. The poor thing sounded frantic. The thieves had taken Dusty, but why? Why would they take a family pet? Melanie was already seething over the death of her adoptive mother, but taking the dog just added an element of perverse cruelty. She stood in the middle of the living room, holding the shotgun so tightly that her forearms ached.

As Lizzy finally headed back into the living room, Mark took her place at the window, easing back a fold of the curtain to peek outside. Dusty’s barking was getting even more frantic.

“Yeah, they’re trying to keep us blind,” he said. “I’m not waiting to find out their attack plan. Mel, you and Lizzy stay in the living room.” He turned and headed back to the kitchen. “If they try to get inside, do whatever you have to do.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Melanie asked. She stepped in his way, but he went around her.

“Out the back to get a better view,” he said, heading to the back door. “Flank them, if I can.”

“Don’t do it,” Lizzy said. “Don’t go out there.”

“Just be ready,” he replied. “Don’t give them a chance to take the first shot. We know what kind of people we’re dealing with here. Got it?”

He looked at Melanie, and she saw the fierce purpose in his eyes. It calmed her somehow, helped her find some steely resolve, and she nodded at him. Then he opened the back door and slipped outside. Once the door was shut, the house seemed to fill with a tense silence. Melanie raised the shotgun, aiming it at the front door, but she glanced back at Lizzy.

“What do we do?” Lizzy said. She was standing beside the coffee table, holding the revolver in both hands and pointing it at the foyer. “Mel, what do we do?”

The grief was still close to the surface, but Melanie choked it down. “Just be ready to fight,” she said, turning back to the door.

21

Dusty’s barking stopped suddenly, as if she’d been muzzled, and in the relative silence, Melanie thought she heard footsteps on the walkway leading from the driveway to the porch. She was still standing in the middle of the living room, but she backed toward the couch. Lizzy was crouched in the space between the couch and coffee table, the revolver thrust out in front of her. In the foyer, a shape passed in front of the headlights, casting a long shadow that seemed to cut through the entire house. Then a second shadow and a third.

Melanie aimed the shotgun toward the window, her finger brushing the trigger. She was sorely tempted to fire. Maybe it would scare them off. She sensed Lizzy moving and dared to look away from the front door. Her friend was tipping the coffee table over, creating a makeshift barricade. Melanie helped her, then squatted behind it. The coffee table was an antique made of mahogany, with rounded corners and sturdy legs that bowed outward. Melanie didn’t know if it would provide any kind of useful cover, but at least it would make them a less obvious target.

As Lizzy knelt beside her, resting her arms on the top edge of the table, the footsteps outside stopped. The truck engine was still rumbling, but otherwise a quiet had descended around the house. Melanie had the shotgun trained on the front door. Her own breathing seemed especially loud in her ears, and she could feel her heartbeat drumming against the inside of her throat.

Where is Mark? she wondered. What is he doing?

And then all hell broke loose. The people on the porch began firing wildly at the front of the house. She heard at least three guns, possibly more. In the sudden cacophony, she heard bullets shatter the windows on either side of the front door, saw fragments of glass sparkling in the headlight beams as they flew across the foyer.

Melanie fired a shot across the living room. The shotgun had a fierce kick. She was unprepared for it, and it shoved her back against the couch. The three-inch shell blasted away drywall on either side of the foyer entrance, peppering the door and the linoleum floor. It had the intended impact. The men on the porch ceased firing, and she heard shouting. Melanie felt a deep and furious satisfaction.

Lizzy rose suddenly and dashed toward the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Melanie asked in a little hiss.

She had a last glimpse of Lizzy heading across the kitchen, hopping over the pool of blood as she made her way toward the den. Melanie considered following her, but then a shadow moved across the window again. Suddenly, she saw a muzzle flash. When a bullet hit the coffee table, she felt the vibration against her forearms. Splinters sprayed across the left side of her face.

The shadow in the foyer was moving. At least one person had stepped through the shattered window. It seemed like they were moving into the hall. Melanie racked the shotgun and fired another shot toward the foyer. This shot was aimed just a bit to the left, and she saw a big section of the wall dissolve into chunks.

Her attackers had anticipated the shot. Suddenly, shadows rushed into the living room. Two came through the shattered windows, another from around the corner. She dropped down behind the coffee table just as they opened fire. Bullets hammered into the coffee table. She heard wood splintering and breaking, but all she could do was press herself flat against the floor. The barrage was relentless, with her attackers taking turns, firing one after the other in a steady rhythm.

As soon as they stop to reload, she thought.

But she felt bullets sizzling over her, and she heard the shots getting closer. The men were marching across the living room as they fired. Soon, they would be on top of her. She didn’t dare wait until they were out of bullets. Crawling toward the end of the coffee table, she tried to position her shotgun so she could point it around the end and fire. However, in that moment, she felt a sharp stinging sensation in her right leg. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, even as she thrust the end of the shotgun around the coffee table.

She took a wild shot across the living room. The Mossberg 590 held multiple shells, but Melanie didn’t actually know how many and hadn’t thought to check. For that matter, she didn’t even know if Mr. Turner kept it fully loaded. She racked the slide and fired again. Though the explosive sound was deafening, she thought she heard the other men scrambling. They’d ceased to fire, so she dared to raise her head. They’d chipped away at the coffee table, creating numerous holes and jagged edges.

As soon as she peered across the living room, she saw them. One had ducked behind the toppled recliner, and he was currently changing the magazine in a rather large pistol. Another had positioned himself at the end of the love seat, and the third had gone back around the corner in the foyer. All were still alive. She couldn’t tell if any were injured.

“We’re taking the house,” one of them shouted. “Throw down your gun, and we’ll let you walk. But we got no problem killing everyone in here. Got that?” He had a thick East Tennessee accent, chewing on his words like they were bubble gum.

Assessing her situation, she couldn’t see a way out of this. The men were spread out, so she couldn’t hit more than one of them. They had three guns, all aiming from different directions. She couldn’t get to the kitchen without moving out into the open, and her only cover was being blasted apart. Where the heck had Lizzy and Mark gone?

Charge them, she thought. Open fire and rush the kitchen. They won’t expect it.

It was an incredibly foolish thing to do, but it seemed better than crouching behind a crumbling table waiting to be shot. Either way, she had about one second to make a decision, and she was driven more by hateful fury in that moment than fear.

She got her feet under her and lunged upward, but in that moment, she fumbled the shotgun. Struggling to maintain her hold, she shuffled to one side. She saw all three of the men turning toward her.

I’m dead, she thought, as she fell to one side. She hit a small table and knocked over a lamp, even as the men aimed their guns at her.

She heard the crack-crack-crack of a gun coming from the foyer, and she tensed, anticipating the impact of bullets. Instead, the attacker in the foyer uttered a hoarse cry, took a few steps into the living room, and fell forward. The pained cry turned into a loud huff as he hit the ground. The other men wheeled around.

It bought Melanie just enough time to regain her balance, and she brought the shotgun up, aiming it at the man beside the love seat. He was closest. She saw the top of a camouflage hat, tufts of greasy black hair sticking out on either side. He had a hard face, cold eyes, and scraggly beard. Beyond him, Lizzy appeared briefly in the foyer, peeking around the corner.

Melanie pulled the trigger. Nothing. It clicked. Panicking, all she could think to do was dive over the small table, sweeping the lamp onto the floor in the process. She heard guns firing, seeming to come from every direction. Voices cried out. Lizzy was shrieking. Melanie hit the floor on the other side and rolled toward the kitchen. As soon as she came to a stop, she fumbled in her pocket, grabbing another shell, but she heard people moving through the living room. Pushing backward into the kitchen, she looked for her attackers and saw both men rushing back toward the foyer.

“Lizzy, get out of here,” she cried, loading a shell into the Mossberg. She couldn’t actually see Lizzy. For all she knew, her friend had just been gunned down.

She ran into the edge of the kitchen table, catching herself and turning. She aimed the shotgun back toward the living room, but the men were gone. She loaded a couple more shells, racked the slide, and rounded the corner just in time to see one of the men moving back through the shattered front window. Aiming the Mossberg, she almost fired, but then she remembered that Lizzy was somewhere in that direction.

“Are you okay, Lizzy?” she called, heading across the living room. One of the men was lying face-down on the carpet, arms and legs askew. In the headlight beam, Melanie saw dark blood on the back of his neck, seeping into the collar of a filthy off-white t-shirt.

“They went back outside.” Lizzy’s voice. She appeared around the corner. “I’m out of bullets.”

“Get away from the front door,” Melanie said.

Lizzy dashed into the living room and moved to one side, out of line of sight from the front door. Melanie rushed to her side. She became aware then of pain in her right leg. She stopped and reached down, pulling up her pant leg to find a shallow groove carved into the back of her leg a few inches above the ankle.

“Grazed,” she said. “I suppose I should consider myself lucky.”

“What do we do now?” Lizzy said.

Melanie lowered the pant leg and resumed loading the shotgun. In all, the Mossberg 590 held nine shells, but that left her with only one extra shell in her pocket.

“We can’t let them leave,” Melanie said. “They’ll just come back again.”

“But…what can we do?” Lizzy replied. “We can’t charge outside. They’ll pick us off as soon as we step through the door.”

“Yeah, but…” She didn’t have a better plan.

“There might be more of them outside,” Lizzy added. “We don’t know the full size of this group.”

Mark, where the heck did you go? she wondered again.

“We’re outgunned,” Lizzy said. “That’s the problem.”

“I’m going out there,” Melanie said, creeping toward the foyer. “I’ll catch them off guard, if I can.”

“No, no, wait…”

But she heard shouting coming from somewhere outside the house. Numerous people shouting, cursing, Dusty barking again. Then a series of gunshots. As best she could tell, they were coming from around the side of the house, beyond the driveway.

“I bet that’s Mark,” she said.

Scarcely thinking, she rushed into the foyer, raising the gun. Curtains from the side windows were flapping in the night breeze. Moving low, she charged through them and stepped out into the porch, even as the night was punctuated by the sound of multiple guns. As soon as she stepped outside, she saw the thieves’ truck. It was parked at an angle behind Derrick’s vehicle. Two men were hunkered down beside the hood, firing toward the fence at the side of the house.

Melanie realized then that the headlights of both vehicles were on, both engines running. Melanie remembered disconnecting the battery wires to kill the engine on Derrick’s truck, so someone had hot-wired it again. She didn’t pause to consider what this meant. Suddenly, she heard the distinct voice of her husband as he cried out in pain. This was followed by the rattling of the fence gate. Melanie fired on the thieves’ truck. She thought she saw one of the men beside the hood drop, the other scramble to one side. Seeking cover, she dropped down and stepped behind one of the porch’s support columns, even as one of the men fired in her direction. Bullets hit the door behind her, the column in front of her, pinged off the porch itself.

She pointed the shotgun around the column and fired blindly. Just then, however, she heard the revving of both truck engines, the squeal of tires. She dared a glance around the column. There was a body on the front yard curled up on his side. Both trucks were backing out of the driveway. Melanie took another shot in their direction, but she saw the flash of a muzzle from the cab of Derrick’s truck. A bullet hit the column somewhere just above her, forcing her to duck back out of sight.

She listened helplessly as both vehicles raced away from the house, moving down the street and around the corner, picking up speed. And then they were gone. The echo of gunshots faded, and a dreadful quiet settled over the whole neighborhood again. Melanie lowered the shotgun.

“They stole our truck,” Lizzy said, stepping onto the porch. “All of that stuff in the back, too.”

But the truck was the least of Melanie’s concerns. The headlight beams faded back into the city streets. She pushed off the column and headed toward the driveway, passing the curled body in the grass. The man wasn’t making any sound. Still, Melanie didn’t want to take any chances.

“Lizzy, check that guy,” she said, pointing at him. “Take any weapons.”

On the far side of the driveway, the gate to the back yard was wide open. Melanie saw someone sitting against the fence on the other side. As she drew closer, she realized it was Mark. He was leaning back, breathing loudly through his open mouth, his left hand clamped to his right shoulder. She raced toward him and dropped down.

“Are you okay?” she cried. She wanted to hug him, but his obvious injury stayed her hand. Instead, she grabbed his free hand and squeezed it. “Did you get hit?”

“Yeah, took a bullet to the shoulder,” he replied. “But I’m alive.”

“Don’t take crazy risks like that,” she said, and this time, she went ahead and hugged him anyway, careful not to put pressure on the shoulder. “You could’ve been killed. I’m not going through this craziness without you.”

He hugged her back, grunting in discomfort. “Hey, you’re one to talk. It was like showdown at the OK Corral there on the porch.”

“Well, what could I do?” she said. “Let’s get you back inside and make sure the others are okay.”

“They took our truck,” he noted. “That sort of changes things.”

“I know.” She helped him to his feet, and they started back toward the front door. “We’ll figure out what to do next.”

22

The silence had gone on for a few minutes, so Shona finally rose from her seat, still clutching the .357 Magnum, and crept across the bathroom. The man she’d always called Grandpa was lying on his side, facing the door.

“Do you think they’re gone, Grandpa?” she asked. “I don’t hear anything.”

“It sounds like it, but be careful,” he replied. “Listen at the door before you stick your head out there.”

She pressed her ear to the door and listened for a moment, but the house had gone quiet. In her mind, she had a sudden image of a house filled with dead bodies. They’d all killed each other. She saw the strangers from the truck piled up at the front door, her parents crumpled together in the living room, Lizzy perhaps sprawled dramatically in between the two groups from a final desperate charge.

“I don’t hear anything,” she said. “No talking, no breathing, nothing.”

“Just crack the door,” Grandpa said. “Have the gun ready. They could be hiding.”

She was breathing fast now, getting light-headed, but she unlocked the doorknob and slowly turned it. The .357 in her right hand seemed so damned heavy, so unwieldy, in that moment. As soon as she cracked the door open, she thrust the gun out into the hallway. The hallway was dark now, and she no longer heard the growling engine outside. Shona dared to step out of the bathroom, creeping toward the foyer.

“Be careful,” Grandpa said.

She saw debris all over the floor in the foyer. Huge chunks had been blasted out of the walls, and curtains were swaying in the wind from the shattered windows. As her shoes crunched on shards of glass, she saw a dark shape on the carpet in the living room. Startled, she gasped, aimed the gun at it, and stumbled backward. She would have fired, but the trigger required just a little more strength than she expected.

A dead body. She could tell by the awkward way the man was lying, his arms and legs all folded in different directions. Voices came from outside, and she wheeled around. In the process, she slipped on some of the loose chunks on the ground, and she backed up against the wall to keep from falling.

It was her mother’s voice. With a sigh of relief, Shona rushed to the front door and pulled it open. Up close, she realized that the door had been cracked and pitted by numerous bullets. As soon as she opened the door, she saw her mother and Lizzy helping Dad down the sidewalk. He was holding his right shoulder, face twisted up in pain. Mom had an arm around his waist, and Lizzy was trying to brace his left shoulder with her arm.

“Mom! Dad! Where are the bad guys?” Shona asked. “Are they all dead? Did you get them?”

“We got a couple of them,” Melanie replied, “but the other guys drove off. Clear the way for us, Shona. We need to take your father to one of the bedrooms. He’s been hurt.”

Shona used the side of her foot to brush some of the scattered bits of drywall, wood, and glass out of the way of the door, making a path across the foyer to the hall. Mom and Lizzy helped Dad into the house and then guided him down the hall to the first guest room. Lizzy diverted into the bathroom to tend to Mr. Turner.

Shona closed the front door and set the deadbolt. The lock was useless now, of course, since the windows on either side of the door had been completely shattered. Still, it gave her a feeling of security. By the time she got to the guest bedroom, Dad was sitting on the edge of a small twin bed, while Mom peeled away his bloody coat and the long-sleeved shirt beneath. Lizzy came in soon after, helping Mr. Turner hobble over to small couch in the corner, where she laid him down.

“Just remember,” Dad said. “That whole fight could have gone a lot worse. They had us outgunned and outnumbered. If they’d stuck it out just a little longer, we’d all be dead.”

“How many of them did we kill?” Mr. Turner asked.

“Two,” Melanie said. “One in the living room, one in the front yard.”

Mr. Turner grunted. “Good. Twice the payback for what they did to Sue. I just wish I’d been there to help, instead of lying on the bathroom floor like a lump.”

Shona set the .357 down and stepped forward to help her mother pull Dad’s blood-soaked shirt off. She wadded it up and tossed it onto a nearby dresser. Mom produced a flashlight from her purse and shone it on the wound. Dad had been shot in the shoulder and had a dime-sized puncture wound just beneath his collarbone. It had bled quite a bit, but there wasn’t an exit wound.

“The bullet is still inside of you,” Mom noted. “That’s not good. What do we do?”

“We need to call an ambulance,” Shona said, fighting tears. “Look at all the blood!”

Indeed, blood had run down his shoulder and chest all the way to his stomach. Lizzy hopped up, mumbled something about the first aid kit, and left the room.

“At first, it was almost numb,” Mark said, grimacing. “Then it started to feel really hot, like I was burning on the inside. Now, the heat is turning into just raw pain.”

“Dad, that’s why you have to go to the emergency room,” Shona said.

“Well, it’s not like we can call nine-one-one,” he replied. “There’s no phone service.”

Mr. Turner was lying on the couch, one hand pressed to his forehead. “Your truck still works, right? Can’t we drive him there? Can’t we drive both of us?”

“Our truck is gone,” Melanie said with a sigh. “They stole it when they left.”

Lizzy returned with the big plastic first aid kit, passing it to Melanie. Whatever shock had diminished Dad’s pain seemed to be vanishing, and he finally uttered a long, shuddery groan and lay back on the bed.

“They’ll come back,” Mr. Turner said. “They took my generator, my tools, my damned dog, and your truck. Now, they’ll want to take their revenge.”

As Melanie went to work cleaning and bandaging Dad’s wound, Shona began to pace restlessly. She didn’t want to be here. This house which had always felt like such a safe place to her growing up now felt like a trap. They were wide open to the world, and the dead body in the yard was like a beacon. As she tried to think of some way to comfort herself, she had an even more disturbing realization.

My backpack! I left it in the truck, and they stole it!

It made her sick to her stomach, and she wrapped her arms around her belly. All of her books, her notebooks, even the Beretta, they’d taken it all. She was so troubled by this that she didn’t realize Grandpa had gotten up from the couch until he was already shuffling toward the bed.

“Dad, are you sure about this?” Lizzy said. “There’s a good chance you’ve got a serious concussion. Why don’t you lie down and take it easy?”

“Nonsense, it’s just a headache,” he replied. “We have to figure out what we’re doing next before those guys come back to finish the job, and that means, first and foremost, taking care of Mark.” He found a spot on the bed beside Melanie and slowly eased himself down. Melanie had been about to apply a bandage to the cleaned wound, but Mr. Turner brushed her hand aside. “Let’s see if we can’t get that bullet out first. As long as it’s not in a vital spot, and not too deep, we might be able to do it.”

He fished around inside the first aid kit and found a small set of forceps. Actually, to Shona’s eyes, they looked like basic tweezers that she might have used to pluck her eyebrows. Mr. Turner bent over Mark and began prodding the edges of the wound. Then he brought the forceps down. From her angle behind the bed, Shona couldn’t see exactly what was going on, but her father suddenly sucked in his breath, then cursed softly.

“No, no, stop,” he said suddenly. His face had taken on an almost greenish tint, and he’d broken out in a sweat.

“Well, it’s probably a bust anyway,” Mr. Turner said, wiping off the forceps and dumping them back in the first aid kit. “The bullet is too deep. I don’t think we’re getting it out of there. Sorry about that, son. Mel, you had the right idea, but you need to pack the wound really good with gauze to keep it from bleeding before you bandage him up.”

“Okay, help me out, Dad,” Melanie replied.

Working together, they began applying gauze to the bullet hole. As they were doing that, Mr. Turner said, “Liz, Shona, you girls can save us some time here if you’d start gathering essential supplies. We can’t stay in this house.”

“Where are we going to go?” Lizzy said. “We don’t have a vehicle anymore!”

Melanie spoke up. “We’re taking Mark to the hospital. I don’t care if we have to walk. I’m not going to leave this wound untreated.”

Lizzy and Shona traded a look. Shona was reassured that at least someone seemed as terrified by the prospect as she did. She tried to envision them all walking through the dark city at night, trying to avoid the looters and other assorted weirdos. No, that wasn’t a pleasant image, not at all.

“What do we do about Mom?” Lizzy said. “We can’t just leave her lying in the house. It doesn’t seem right.”

Max and Melanie were wrapping a long bandage around Mark’s shoulder, pulling it taut to keep the gauze in place.

“I moved her body,” Mark said, his words slurring. “She’s in the shed, on the work table, bundled up in a blanket.”

“But shouldn’t we…I don’t know, bury her or something,” Lizzy said.

“Leave her where she is,” Grandpa said softly. “Lizzy, Shona, why don’t you girls go and round up some provisions for our trip to the hospital? Gather the weapons, some bottled water from the kitchen, and anything else you think we might need and can carry.”

Shona was grateful for the opportunity to do something other than dread their jaunt through town, so she quickly left the room, grabbing the .357 from the dresser in passing. Lizzy joined her in the hall, but they decided to go around the other way, avoiding the foyer and living room by circling around the back hallway, past the bedrooms, and through the den.

“Mom can hot-wire cars,” Shona noted. She went to the gun closet first, grabbing some additional ammo. While there, she spotted an old leather backpack hanging from a hook, and she pulled it out. “If she could do it once, she can do it again. As long as it’s an old vehicle of some kind, it would work, wouldn’t it?”

Lizzy kept going into the kitchen, stepping over the drying pool of blood. “Yeah, we can steal another car, if that’s what you’re implying, but we could also get shot by the owner of said vehicle.”

“Well, there’s bound to be stranded vehicles in the neighborhood,” Shona noted, “especially if the owners got stuck at work when the power went off.”

She shoved the boxes of ammo, along with a small leather holster for the Magnum, into the backpack. Then something else caught her eye: a dusty old box on a shelf near the back of the closet with the words DIY BOOKS written in Sharpie. She picked it up and set it in front of her. Thumbing through the stack of books inside, she saw a series of how-to volumes on things like auto maintenance, canning, something called “permaculture gardening,” and a bunch of other stuff. There were about twenty books in all.

These could come in handy, especially if we have to take care of everything ourselves, Shona thought. She picked up a few of the books and slid them into the backpack. She turned to the closet one more time—it seemed be a treasure trove—and rooted around in the back. To her surprise, she found some big bottles of whiskey. She held up the first one. It was a rounded bottle with various facets, like a large crudely carved gemstone. The brown label read, “Blanton’s Bourbon.”

The second bottle had a samurai all in black on the label. Shona got excited when she saw the kanji characters running down the side of the label, though she was only an intermediate in her Japanese language studies. Still, she knew enough to read that the dark brown liquid inside was Kigai Japanese Whiskey. There were three more bottles besides these, all various brands of hard liquor. Shona didn’t know anything about them, of course, but she suspected they were of some value. After all, Grandpa hadn’t opened any of them. She carefully placed them in various pockets of the backpack.

Maybe they’ll be worth something, she thought. You never know.

Lizzy returned then, lugging a big cloth satchel full of water bottles and some canned food. She checked Shona’s backpack

“Ammo, books, and booze, huh?” she said with a wry smile. “That’s your priority during the apocalypse?”

“Well, it just seemed…” Shona shrugged.

Lizzy laughed and patted her on the back. “No, it’s perfect. Let’s grab the guns and check on the others.”

They went through the house and located all of the guns that had been dropped or set down during the fighting. Unfortunately, that meant approaching the dead bodies, but Lizzy took care of this part. When they got back to the guest bedroom, Dad was sitting up, his entire shoulder and upper arm swathed in bandages. Mom was currently trying to put a shirt on him. It appeared to be one of Grandpa’s t-shirts, which meant it was a size too big.

As Shona entered the room and set the backpack down, they seemed to be furiously debating the next step. She had put the Magnum and two other revolvers in small pockets of the backpack. Lizzy had the hunting rifle and the shotgun. She set them in the corner beside her satchel of food and water.

“North Knoxville Medical Center is closest,” Mom said, pulling the shirt over Dad’s head, “but it’s going to take us at least an hour to walk there. Without a vehicle, we’re in big trouble.”

“I bet if we borrowed a neighbor’s vehicle, they would understand,” Grandpa replied.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Shona blurted. “Mom can hot-wire cars really good. She already showed us.” She clapped a hand over her mouth as Grandpa turned to look at her.

“Yeah, I know she can,” he replied, shaking his head. Shona thought he was on the verge of smiling. “Your sweet little mama learned all kinds of unsavory things before she came to this house. It never occurred to me that they might come in handy someday.”

“I’m not going to steal a neighbor’s car,” Mom replied. “That’s rude. Why should we make innocent people suffer just to meet our own needs?”

“There’s a good chance that the men who attacked us are on their way to the hospital right now,” Lizzy said. “I think I injured at least one of the thieves who escaped. Plus, the hospital’s bound to be a madhouse. Maybe it’s best we don’t go.”

“Old Alex Sherman is out of town visiting family,” Grandpa noted. “He’s got his Suburban in the driveway. We might as well borrow it. If we could ask, I’m sure he would allow it. Anyway, we’re not hurting him. He’ll understand. Heck, Alex would give us the keys, if he could. Trust me.”

Melanie and Mark traded a look. “Okay, I think we have to try,” Mom said, after a moment. “You both need medical treatment. If we get there and find that the hospital is overrun with people, we’ll figure something out, but we won’t know until we try.”

Mark grunted unhappily but nodded. “So be it,” he said.

23

The old ’87 Suburban was in decent shape. Old Alex Sherman clearly took care of his antique. Melanie felt bad about taking it, despite her father’s insistence that the kindly neighbor wouldn’t have a problem with it under the circumstances. Still, they’d wasted enough time. Mark was in bad shape. His color was off, and his eyes were glassy. He’d lost so much blood.

They loaded the guns, books, food, and water into the back, then made Mark and Mr. Turner as comfortable as possible in the back seat. Lizzy and Shona sat up front with Mel, and she noted that her daughter was watching her intently as she broke into the steering column and located the battery wires.

She might be just a little too interested in my criminal skills, Melanie thought.

As she backed out of the driveway, she heard Mr. Turner sigh and mumble, “We’ll be back someday, somehow, my dear. We won’t leave you out there in the shed.”

It made Melanie’s heart ache. The gunfight and Mark’s injury had so occupied her thoughts that she hadn’t felt the real impact of the loss of her adoptive mother. Even now, the upcoming drive through a crumbling city blunted the impact of her feelings. But she vowed in that moment, as she drove through the neighborhood, to return and properly grieve the woman who had practically saved her life once upon a time.

You deserve better, Mom, she thought.

“I guess they just took my dog,” Mr. Turner said, as they rounded a corner and approached the downhill road that led out of the neighborhood. “That doesn’t make any sense to me. That dog’s not worth any money.”

“These are cruel people we’re talking about,” Lizzy said, bitterly. “Stealing a family pet—that’s really sick.”

“I wish we’d shot them all,” Melanie added. “Now they’re out there running around, free to terrorize other people.”

“And where are the damn police?” Mr. Turner asked. “You’d think they’d be drawn by all the shooting.”

“The police are already dealing with thousands of looters, I’m sure,” Melanie replied. “Plus, they have no radio communication, so they’re scattered out there across the city.”

As she pulled out of the neighborhood, she headed north. She knew the way to North Knoxville Medical Center. It was the place they sent Beaton’s employees who were injured on the job—which was perhaps not as rare an occurrence as it should have been. It was just off the interstate north of the city, tucked in the middle of a small commercial district.

“I think it might be a good idea to keep some of the weapons handy,” she said. Up ahead, she saw a car that had crashed into a tree. The driver’s door was wide open, but there was no sign of the people. “Dad and Lizzy, you two at least should be armed, just in case.”

“You’re right,” Mr. Turner replied. She heard him reaching into the back of the vehicle. A moment later, he handed the .357 Magnum to Lizzy, along with a box of bullets. Melanie noted in passing that it was a red box of jacketed hollow points.

Mr. Turner grabbed the Mossberg for himself and checked that it was loaded.

“Keep the guns out of sight, unless you have to use them,” Melanie said.

Lizzy nodded at her and held the gun between her knees. They cut through a quiet neighborhood and came out on a back road that passed some churches and small industrial buildings. Dead vehicles were all over the place. Melanie spotted a small group of young men who seemed to be going from vehicle to vehicle. She saw broken windows and open doors. A couple of the men carried large sacks that were full to overflowing. As the Suburban drew near, some of the looters pointed at them. Another pointed a flashlight through the windshield, but Lizzy raised the gun and let the light play over the weapon. It was enough. The men shuffled out of their way and let them pass without incident.

Another mile down the road, they passed a Knoxville police car, with its distinctive white-on-blue lettering, flipped upside down in a ditch. An old man dressed in a filthy long coat, almost certainly homeless, was sitting cross-legged on the underbelly of the car, a hiking stick laid across his lap. He seemed like a predator guarding his prey. Melanie felt a shudder and picked up a little more speed as she passed him.

The road eventually took them under the interstate, and the hospital appeared just around the next bend, tucked behind some chain restaurants and a gas station. After all the looting she’d seen earlier, this area seemed surprisingly calm. There were dead vehicles everywhere, of course, and she even had to mount the sidewalk at one point to get past them. However, as she approached the hospital entrance, she saw the reason for the relative calm.

Armed guards were stationed on either side of the entrance, two and two, all four bearing rifles. They looked like some kind of private security, wearing black uniforms and brimmed hats with no obvious badges or logos. Melanie briefly considered just gunning it and driving past them. She didn’t like the look of these people. On top of that, they had a couple of sawhorses blocking the lanes.

However, Mark was softly moaning in the back seat. Clearly, he needed medical attention right away. With a wary look at Lizzy, who had lowered her gun again, she pulled the Suburban into the hospital entrance.

Two of the guards stepped in front of the vehicle, rifles in hand but not pointed directly at them. Another guard held up a hand to motion them to stop, and as Melanie slowed down, the fourth guard approached the driver’s window. Melanie glanced back to make sure Mr. Turner had moved the shotgun out of sight, then she rolled down her window.

The guard was a woman with dark eyes, a lipless mouth pressed firmly together, heavy eyebrows. She leaned into the open window and looked into the back seat.

“What do you want?” she said, her hard eyes moving from the backseat passengers to the driver.

The bluntness of the question irritated Melanie, and she almost replied with angry sarcasm: Is this a hospital or what? Do you know why people come to hospitals? She bit back this response and tried to settle her facial expression.

“We have two injured people,” she said. “They’ve both been shot and need immediate medical care.”

The guard nodded and glanced at the guard standing behind her.

“What materials or goods do you have to trade for medical care?” he asked. “There’s no contacting your, uh, healthcare provider.” He said the words as if they amused him.

“We’ll just pay cash,” Melanie said.

“The value of paper money is an unanswered question for the time being, so if you’re paying cash, you’d better have quite a lot of it,” the guard said. “Everyone expects the economy to bottom out.”

Melanie sighed in frustration and looked at Mark in the rearview mirror, but he was listless, eyes half-closed, as if he scarcely knew what was going on. She adjusted the mirror to look at Mr. Turner, but he merely shrugged. In fact, she knew they didn’t have much cash on hand at all. Who used actual paper money or coins these days? She depended on her debit card for most purchases.

“If you don’t have anything of real value, then I’m afraid you’ll have to turn around and seek help elsewhere,” the guard said. “Sorry, that’s just the way it is right now.”

The guns. They could offer the guns. Melanie hated the thought. Unarmed, they were extremely vulnerable. Still, Mark needed help, and she saw no other option. She turned to Lizzy to suggest this when Shona spoke up suddenly.

Melanie’s daughter had been sitting quietly through all of this, hugging the backpack of supplies she’d brought from the house. She was trying to stay calm after all that had happened. Melanie knew her daughter well enough to recognize when she was fending off panic.

Now, however, she cleared her throat and said, “We do have something that might be worth a lot, but…well, I don’t know if Grandpa will want to trade it.” She unzipped the front pocket of her backpack, which was absolutely bulging. Melanie heard a clank of glass, and then Shona produced a big bottle of whiskey.

“Oh, no, she found my secret stash,” Mr. Turner said from the back seat with a big laugh. “That bottle of Kigai is worth probably six hundred bucks. If that’s what it takes to pay for a doctor, so be it. I’ll get by somehow.”

Shona produced a second bottle. The brown paper label identified it as “Benton’s Bourbon.” Taking a bottle in each hand, Shona held them up.

“Well, how about it?” Melanie asked the guard.

The first guard turned to the guard behind her, and they conferred quietly for a minute. Then the other guard nodded and made a little spinning motion with his hand.

“Okay, those two bottles will do,” the first guard said. “Head into the parking lot. Use a space near the drop-off, and take the booze inside with you. There will be other guards, so don’t do anything strange.”

And with that, she waved them on. The guards who had been blocking the road stepped aside, dragging one of the sawhorses back. Melanie rolled up her window and drove slowly up the hill into the parking lot. North Knoxville Medical Center wasn’t an especially large hospital, comprised of a few smaller buildings and a single tower. It didn’t take long to figure out where they were supposed to go.

Along the back of the first building, small battery-powered lamps had been placed under a covered circular driveway. About a dozen cars were parked in the first couple of rows just beyond the doors, and Melanie pulled into the closest space. As she did, she spotted two more armed guards, dressed all in black, on either side of the hospital entrance doors.

“Do we all have to go in?” Shona asked.

“Of course,” Melanie replied, putting the Suburban in Park. She reached under the steering column to disconnect the battery wires. “We don’t dare leave anyone out here. No telling what might happen. Plus, I might need your smarts again.” She gave her daughter a proud smile. “Put these back inside your backpack.”

She handed her daughter the bottles of booze. Beaming, Shona slid them back into the front pocket. As they climbed out of the vehicle, Lizzy moved to help Mr. Turner, and Melanie helped Mark. Poor Mark seemed delirious, but he still managed to walk, though he had to lean against her. As they approached the front door, the two guards moved to intercept them. They were both enormous, built like weightlifters, and carrying AR-15s.

“What did you bring in payment?” one of them said.

Melanie motioned at her daughter, and Shona dug the bottles out of her backpack and held them up.

“Okay, that’ll do,” one of the men said. He had a deep voice and a linebacker’s broad shoulders. “Take those bottles inside and leave them with the clerk behind the desk.”

He waved Shona past, but as the others started to follow, he stepped in front of Lizzy. “No weapons on the premises,” he said, reaching down and forcefully snagging the .357 Magnum out of her hand.

“We had that for protection,” Melanie said.

“Talk to the clerk about it when you leave,” the guard said. “I’ll return them.”

Melanie expected them to take the Mossberg from Mr. Turner, but when she looked at him, she realized he’d left the weapon in the vehicle. That was for the best. If they didn’t get the Magnum back, at least they were still armed. The guards stepped aside, and the group followed Shona to the front door. Unfortunately, Shona almost walked right into the glass door. Clearly, she had forgotten that the motion sensor no longer worked. She just managed to stop at the last second, giving an embarrassed laugh, then she pushed the doors open with her hands.

“This is all a bit weird,” Mr. Turner muttered, as he followed Shona into the hospital. He glanced at Melanie. “Are we sure we want to do this? It’s not too late to turn around and get the heck out of here.”

“We need a doctor,” Melanie said, gesturing with a nod of her head toward Mark. He was stumbling along beside her, his head down, lips pulled back in pain. “One way or another. This is our best option.”

As soon as she stepped through the doors, Melanie was surprised at how normal everything looked. Now that they were past the guards, she saw only an ordinary hospital lobby, well-lit by a number of battery-operated lamps placed on tables throughout. A few people were waiting for treatment, scattered in the padded chairs throughout the room. On the right, a small, white-haired woman sat behind a counter, a large clipboard in front of her.

Melanie pushed past her daughter, guiding Mark, and approached the counter.

“How can we help you today?” the woman said. She was wearing scrubs, but otherwise she seemed rather disheveled, as if she’d hastily made her way to the hospital without getting ready.

“We have two injured people,” Melanie said. “My husband and my father. They’ve both been shot.” She pulled back the edge of Mark’s jacket to reveal the bandage wrapped around his shoulder.

The woman’s eyes flitted back and forth from Mark to Melanie. Something in her mannerisms was off. “Okay…okay, let me see. I’m going to ask you some questions here. Just…just a second.” She picked up the clipboard, which was fat with papers, and began flipping through the pages.

She’s afraid, Melanie realized. Who is this woman? Is she even a real nurse?

As she proceeded to take their information—name, address, patient history, and so on—she kept stuttering and glancing around.

“And what have you brought in trade?” she said, making notes on her clipboard.

Melanie set the bottles of whiskey on the counter. “The guard said this would do.”

The woman stared at the bottles a moment, her tongue flicking against her upper lip. Finally she excused herself, grabbed the clipboard, and stepped away from the counter. She pushed through a heavy door into the ICU and gestured at a man in the distance.

“This is some kind of two-bit operation here,” Mr. Turner said. “I don’t think the real hospital staff is running this place. What is going on here?”

“No idea,” Melanie said, “but let’s be patient.”

“Well, if I have to be patient, I’ll do it sitting down. My head is killing me.” Mr. Turner made his way over to the nearest chair, accompanied by Lizzy. They sat down together, and Shona joined them a moment later.

Mark stayed with Melanie, though he was leaning heavily against her. Seconds turned into minutes, and Melanie felt a growing discomfort. The air reeked of sickness, and when she looked around the room, she saw dull, glazed looks on the faces of the few people waiting here.

The sooner we get out of here, the better, she thought.

Finally the doors to the ICU swung open again, and the woman returned. She had a weird little half-smile on her face, and she was restlessly tapping her fingers on the clipboard. Clearing her throat, she resumed her position behind the counter, and set the clipboard down.

“Well?” Melanie asked.

“I’m afraid we will only be able to treat one of your people,” she said, after a moment.

“Why?” Melanie said. She allowed a bit of heat into her voice. “Not enough booze? We’ve got another bottle.”

“Not just that,” the woman said. “Also limited medical supplies and staff. We’ll treat the more seriously injured of the two. Your choice.” When Melanie just continued staring daggers at her, she finally gave a sheepish grin and said, “I’m sorry. This decision goes above my head.”

Melanie had to step back from the counter to keep from snapping at the woman. Of course, Mark needed treatment more than Mr. Turner. He was practically delirious at this point. However, she turned and looked at Mr. Turner. He was sitting slumped over, his head in his hands. Lizzy was beside him, patting him gently on the back and speaking softly, as if to comfort him. He was doing better then Mark, but she was worried that the wound was worse than it seemed. Though the bullet had only grazed his skull, it had cut deep.

“I’ll live,” Mr. Turner said, without raising his head. “Send your husband back there. He needs help right away.”

This is a fight we can’t win, she told herself. Take what they offer. Otherwise, you might get escorted off the property.

Finally, Melanie sighed in utter exasperation and turned back to the counter. “Ma’am, what’s your name?”

This question seemed to catch the woman off guard. She frowned and said, “Pamela.”

“Okay, Pamela, in that case, we’re going to treat my husband,” she said.

“Very good.”

And with that, Pamela slid the clipboard under the counter and left again, heading through the doors. She returned a moment later, followed by a large orderly pushing a wheelchair. Melanie guided Mark over to the wheelchair and eased him down.

“This is Trey,” she said, gesturing at the huge orderly. “He’s going to take your husband back to a room. Would you please wait out here?”

And without waiting for an answer, the orderly spun the wheelchair around, Mark lolling in the seat, and started pushing him toward the doors.

“No, no, we’re going, too,” Melanie said. “I want to keep our family together.”

Pamela gave an annoyed sigh and hung her head. “Only one person can accompany the patient. That’s the rule right now. The others will have to wait out here.”

Melanie looked at her daughter. Shona was sitting on the other side of Mr. Turner, curled up in her chair with her legs folded beneath her. She was clearly struggling, furiously gnawing at her lower lip.

“I’d rather we were all together,” Melanie said.

But Mr. Turner lifted his head then and waved her on. “Don’t worry about us. We’re all together out here. I’ll keep an eye on Shona. It’s fine.” He put his arm around his granddaughter and pulled her close, which seemed to ease Shona’s anxiety.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Shona said.

Melanie still didn’t feel good about it, but she nodded and followed the orderly through the doors into the ICU. They took him down the dim hallway, past numerous doors which were all closed. Indeed, this part of the hospital seemed surprisingly empty. Near the end of the hall, the orderly turned right, wheeling Mark into a room with a sign that said “Triage” over the door.

The room had multiple beds lining the walls, but no one else was in there at the moment. The only light came from a large flashlight which had been set on its base, pointed at the ceiling. The orderly wheeled Mark to the nearest bed, lowered the siderail, and pulled back a corner of the blanket.

“Can you hop up here and lie down?” he asked. The man was enormous, a beast straining the seams of his blue scrubs.

When Mark struggled to stand, the orderly grabbed him under the arm and helped him up. Melanie glanced around the room and spotted a large cabinet above a counter that had what appeared to be an electronic thumbprint lock holding the handles together. As the orderly helped Mark get settled on the bed, she heard voices coming from the hallway and backed toward the door.

She leaned out the door and looked down the hallway. Just across the hall, another door was open. Two women were speaking, one in white, the other in blue scrubs—doctor and nurse. The doctor was a stocky woman, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. The nurse was smaller, with a rough smoker’s voice. As they spoke, they shifted position, and Melanie caught a glimpse of a patient on the bed behind them. The man appeared to be receiving a blood transfusion.

Well, at least he’s getting actual medical treatment, she thought. That bodes well for Mark. They’re not just taking valuables and dumping people on beds.

She turned back around to see the orderly tucking in Mark’s blanket. Her husband was staring at the ceiling with a confused look on his face, flushed and sweating.

“Someone will be in here in a little while to check on him,” the orderly said. “Don’t go nowhere.”

And with that, he grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and pushed it out of the room. Melanie gave him a polite nod in passing and approached Mark’s bed. He looked at her and managed a weak smile.

“I’m sorry,” she said, taking his hand. “This whole thing is a big, giant mess. I don’t know who’s running this place, but there do seem to be actual doctors on the premises.”

“Just take me home,” he said. “I don’t like it here.”

“We can’t do that,” she said. “You’ve been shot, and the wound is serious. Someone needs to take a look at it. I don’t want you going septic on me.”

“Now, when have I ever gone septic on you, hon?” he asked, with a strange, sleepy smile on his face. An attempt at humor in the midst of his delirium? Melanie laughed.

Her laughter ended abruptly when she heard a shrill cry coming from somewhere down the hall. It was muffled, as if coming from behind a closed door. Melanie felt a shiver go down her spine, and she stepped back from Mark’s bed. The shrill cry became a raspy scream of pure agony. She rushed to the door and leaned out into the hallway again. The doctor and nurse from the other room were now running down the hall. As they approached a door at the end, it opened, and they were beckoned inside by another nurse.

“No, no, it hurts,” shouted the voice from beyond the open door. “Stop! Please! No!”

The doctor and nurse went inside, shutting the door behind them. After a moment, the voice trailed off, and then went silent.

“Gosh, what are they doing out there?” Mark asked. “This is like a Civil War battlefield hospital. Are they just sawing limbs off with no anesthetic?”

“I don’t know,” Melanie said, “but someone was in awful pain there for a minute.”

For Mark’s sake, she tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal. People in hospitals occasionally cried out in pain, didn’t they? But it set her nerves on edge. She glanced at the room across the hall again and saw the other patient. He seemed to be sleeping, blood moving through the tubing.

With a sigh, Melanie went back to Mark’s bedside. “Let’s hope we see someone soon. If we could just get some antibiotics, and maybe a couple of stitches for the wound, I’d be satisfied.”

But she stood there in growing silence as the minutes passed. From time to time, a door would open or close somewhere in the hall, but she heard no more screaming. Mark drifted in and out of sleep, but she kept vigil at his side, growing increasingly impatient.

“Okay, I think we’ve waited quite long enough,” she said. She looked around for a clock but didn’t see one in the room. Therefore, she had no idea how much time had passed. “I’m going to find a doctor and drag them in here if I have to. This is getting ridiculous. A six-hundred-dollar bottle of whiskey should get us better service than this, right?”

“You’d think so,” he said, half-lidded eyes tracing lines on the ceiling.

Melanie had just started to turn when she heard footsteps in the hall again. Someone running, getting closer to their room. Then she became aware of fast, anxious breathing, and she realized she recognized the sound. She spoke the name just as the runner appeared in the door.

“Shona!”

Her daughter almost ran past the triage room, but she saw her mother, heard her name, and turned suddenly. Her sneakers skidded on the shiny floor, but she reached out and grabbed the doorframe to stop herself. Then she propelled herself into the room and came toward her mother, a terrified look on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Melanie asked, grabbing her daughter’s shoulders as she rushed toward the bed.

“Mom, we have to get out of here,” Shona said, voice quavering. “We have to leave right now!”

“What are you talking about?” Melanie asked. “Why?”

Shona looked over her shoulder at the open door, then turned back, baring her teeth in a horrified grimace. “Grandpa got up from his chair. He wanted to find something to drink. He was going to ask someone for coffee or something, and he went through a door in the waiting room to a dark hallway, and he heard some…I don’t know, doctors or something…and he heard them….” She was speaking too fast, panic setting in, so that she tripped over her words.

“Slow down, Shona,” Melanie said. “It’s okay. What did he hear?”

Shona swallowed and took a deep breath. Then she nodded and said, “He heard some of the hospital staff talking about…talking about draining patients of their blood. They had a big tray with all of these blood bags on it.”

“Are you sure they weren’t for transfusion?” Melanie said.

Shona shook her head. “No, Grandpa heard them. They’re not giving people blood. They’re taking it. For profit. They’re draining people, so they can use the blood like currency. Mom, I don’t think the regular hospital staff is in charge here. I don’t know who these people are!”

Melanie felt a sudden icy knot of fear in her belly, and she pulled her daughter close. She thought of the agonized screaming from down the hall. She thought of the patient in the other room, blood in the IV line. Not giving blood, but taking it.

“Oh, God,” she muttered. She looked around at the dim room, the air reeking of sickness. Armed guards in the parking lot. Taking liquor in trade. What was I thinking? Of course something shady is going on here. “You’re right. We have to get out of here. We have to get out of here now.”

“Liz and Grandpa went to get the car,” Shona said. “They said to meet them outside, but act like nothing’s wrong.”

Melanie turned to the bed. Mark was still gazing dully at the ceiling, soaked with sweat. She took his hand.

“Mom, what do we do?” Shona said.

“We leave,” she replied. “Right now!”

24

Melanie left Shona with Mark and stepped out into the hallway, looking left and right. The door back into the waiting room was about twenty feet to her left, but that wasn’t her destination. She needed a way to get her husband safely out of the hospital, and he definitely wasn’t going to walk out, not in his current condition. She looked to the right and saw a nurse’s station nearby. It was an open area across the hall from a patient’s room.

She listened for a minute, heard some muffled conversations coming from a distant room, then stepped out, hurrying down the hall. The nurse’s station was lit by a small flashlight propped on a stack of what appeared to be patient files in manila folders, aimed so that the light shone away from the hall. A large cabinet stood against the wall behind the counter, and Melanie noted that its handles had been locked shut with another one of those thumbprint locks. Currently, the orderly from before, the huge beefy man in his too-small scrubs, was leaning back in a padded chair, his feet propped on a desk behind the counter.

The man was wearing a very nice pair of what appeared to be brand-new Hermès athletic shoes—red and white. Melanie hadn’t noticed them before. Where in the world had he gotten them? A question for another day. Melanie spotted the folded wheelchair tucked into a space beside the cabinet, and she approached boldly. The orderly brought his shoes down and sat up.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“I’m just going to borrow this wheelchair,” she said, trying her best to sound casual about it. “Mark needs to use the restroom.”

“Oh, I guess I should help with that,” the orderly said.

“I can handle it,” she said, grabbing the folded wheelchair’s handles. “You just relax. I’m sure you’ve had a busy day.”

“Got that right.” The orderly settled back in his seat and swung his sneakers back up onto the desktop. “It’ll just be a couple more minutes before the doctor sees him.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

She gave him what she hoped resembled a sincere smile as she unfolded the wheelchair. Then she hastily pushed it back down the hall to the triage room, her heart racing. A couple more minutes. The words rang in her ears. Almost his turn to have his blood drained? How could this be real? In her mind, she saw the hospital staff, the real doctors and nurses, all locked in some big freezer in the hospital kitchen. Or worse, carefully stacked in the morgue.

When she got back to the triage room, an anxious Shona was already trying to help Mark sit up, her arms around his shoulders. He was trying to help, but he didn’t have much strength. She’d managed to get him into a seated position, but he was struggling to stay upright.

“Shona, did Lizzy say where we’re supposed to meet them?” Melanie asked, positioning the wheelchair beside the bed.

“Yeah, they’re going to avoid the covered driveway because of the guards,” she replied. “We’re supposed to get to the south side of the building and come out the emergency exit. Grandpa doesn’t think the emergency exit alarm will sound, but it might, so we’ll have to drive away fast.”

“South side of the building,” Melanie said. She knew the hospital well enough, but she’d never had cause to memorize the locations of the emergency exits. Still, it would have to be on the first floor, so that gave her a general direction. “Okay, when we leave this room, try not to act like we’re fleeing for our lives. If anyone asks, we’re just taking him to the restroom.”

Shona nodded. Together, they managed to hoist Mark off the bed and set him in the wheelchair. Melanie was grateful that Mark wasn’t a big man like her father. He was trim, in good shape, but not overly muscular and just a few inches under six feet. Manageable with help from her daughter.

“Where are we going now?” Mark mumbled. “Are we leaving already?”

“That’s right,” Melanie replied, settling him firmly in his chair. “It turns out this place is under new management, and the service sucks. We’re getting out of here.”

“Well…whatever you say, hon,” he replied. “I knew something was wrong with this place. It’s too dark for a hospital, and it smells like dying people.”

Melanie signaled for her daughter to stay close, then pushed the wheelchair out of the triage room. She wanted to avoid the waiting room, so she turned right. Though this would take her north, in the opposite direction, she’d seen a turn at the end of the hall. She figured she could circle around to the south side of the building from there, assuming they didn’t run into any problems. It would take her past the nurse’s station again, but hopefully the orderly would leave them alone.

Shona walked so closely to her that she kept stepping on Melanie’s heels, so she finally turned and gently pulled her daughter alongside her. When she turned back around, a door opened in front of her, and a doctor stepped out into the hall. At least, he had the right clothing to be a doctor. The white lab coat was appropriate, and the nametag clipped to his breast pocket seemed normal. However, now that she really looked at the man, Melanie thought there was something off about him. He had about two days’ growth of whiskers on his face, hair combed back from a deeply lined forehead and gelled in place, a rough craggy face, and his upper right canine was capped in gold.

“You guys headed somewhere?” he asked. He had a clipboard in his hands, and he tapped his finger on the backside as he spoke.

“Yeah, my husband needs to use the restroom,” she replied.

“There’s a patient bathroom back the other way,” he replied, stepping in her way.

“We’re fine,” Melanie replied, easing to one side of the hallway to get around him. “I prefer the restroom around the corner here. It’s…bigger, cleaner.”

It looked like he was going to step in their way again, but he seemed to change his mind. “Well, don’t be gone long. Your husband is next on my list. He looks like he’s in bad shape, so we don’t want to delay his treatment any longer.”

“Oh, we’ll be back in a minute or two,” she said. “I promise.”

The doctor nodded, eyes narrowed, then continued on his way. Melanie breathed a sigh of relief and picked up speed as she headed to the end of the hall. Turning the corner, she saw a dark hallway stretching out before her. No lights, no open doors—this part of the hospital seemed abandoned. The air was still and foul, and her footsteps seemed inordinately loud.

“I don’t like this place,” Shona said. “Where did all the real doctors go?”

“Maybe we don’t want to know,” Melanie said.

She pushed through a set of doors and entered an even darker part of the hospital, but as the doors swung shut behind her, she heard the echo of a scream moving the hall. It rose up and up, then broke into a raspy voice. Shona whimpered, gripping her backpack straps tightly, and even Mark stirred.

“What is going on in here?” he said. “What is this place? Are they torturing people?”

“You don’t want to know,” Melanie muttered.

They reached the end of the hall and turned another corner, heading now toward the south end of the building. It was almost entirely dark now, with just a hint of light seeping around the far corner from an unknown location. Every door was shut, but still somehow, a desperate cry reached them, resonating through the walls like the memory of a bad dream.

When they reached the south end of the hall, Melanie slowed down and eased around the corner. The light, it seemed, was coming from a window on a door leading back into the waiting room. They’d made a complete circuit of the first floor. She saw a few people sitting listlessly in chairs on the other side, the receptionist behind her desk scribbling something on her clipboard. She saw guards through the hospital’s emergency room exit doors. And somewhere nearby, possibly in one of the closer rooms, she heard an intense conversation. Most of the words were too muffled to make out, but the little that she did hear disturbed her.

“Yeah, a refrigeration truck will be here…doesn’t matter what the police think…he’s been paid off already…exploiting the current chaos….”

She spotted the emergency exit on her right about halfway down the hall. The crash bar contained the warning, “Emergency Exit Only, Alarm Will Sound.” Melanie pushed the wheelchair to the door and came to a stop.

“Grandpa said he’s doesn’t think the alarm will sound, because there’s no power,” Shona said.

But Melanie remembered the red emergency lights at Beaton’s. They’d worked even when the power was off. Melanie reached past Mark to push the door open, but she caught herself. Mark needed medical care, desperately, and she was leaving the hospital. What if Mr. Turner was wrong about all of this? What if he’d misheard?

At the very least, I should loot this place for supplies, she thought. There must be a medical supply closet or nurse’s cart that has medicine we can use, antibiotics and painkillers. She looked over her shoulder, sorely tempted to go back. The dark hallways were unguarded. Surely, she could take a few moments to search the rooms.

“Mom, what are you doing?” Shona said. Her daughter eased past her, approaching the door.

“Thinking about stealing some medicine for your father,” she replied.

He was breathing loudly, as if it were a struggle to draw air into his lungs. Another shrill cry echoed down the hall. It sounded close. Too close. The nearby conversation was getting louder and more insistent.

“Mom, we can’t stay here,” Shona said. “Dad was next on the list. If he doesn’t turn up again, they’ll come looking for him.”

Shona was right, and Melanie nodded, gesturing for her daughter to open the emergency exit door. She held her breath as her daughter pushed the crash bar with her shoulder. The door swung open, and immediately, a loud alarm began to blare. It was ear-splitting, and Melanie almost jumped out of her skin. A startled Shona dashed outside, clapping her hands over her ears, and Melanie followed her.

The door led to a short sidewalk and a transition driveway between two parking lots. The SUV was sitting right there, Lizzy spinning her hand at them through the side window. Mr. Turner opened the back door and stepped out, beckoning them. When he saw the wheelchair, he went around to the back of the vehicle and popped open the rear door. As Melanie headed that way, Shona ran around to the passenger door.

“Sorry,” Mr. Turner said. “I didn’t think that alarm would go off.”

The emergency door swung shut behind them, but Melanie glanced around to make sure no one was coming for them. Nobody at the moment. Working with Mr. Turner, she lifted Mark out of the wheelchair. Then she helped him walk to the side door, as Mr. Turner folded the wheelchair and shoved it into the back of the SUV.

“We lost the .357 Magnum, I guess,” Melanie said, buckling Mark’s seatbelt.

“We still have other guns,” Mr. Turner noted. “The Mossberg, Mark’s Glock, Derrick’s other pistols. We’re not helpless. Let’s just get out of here.”

Melanie got into the front seat with Lizzy and Shona. Mr. Turner got into the back with Mark. The engine was running, but Lizzy panicked and gunned it. As soon as she put it in Drive, the SUV lurched forward with a squeal of tires. Then she overcompensated and hit the brakes, throwing everyone into their seatbelts.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said.

“Don’t do their dirty work for them,” Melanie said. “We want to keep our blood.”

“I’m just kind of freaked out about this whole thing. Collecting blood from patients to sell on the black market? Who are these people?”

Ahead, the driveway led to a side parking lot, but it circled around and exited the hospital grounds the same way they’d come in. Though Melanie couldn’t see them from her current position, she knew there were four guards waiting for them there. Movement caught her eye, and she glanced in the sideview mirror to see two guards stepping around a corner of the building, as the emergency exit continued to blare.

“We have to go,” Melanie said, as the two guards drew their handguns and began waving to get them to stop. “We have to go now!”

Lizzy hit the accelerator again, and they lurched forward. This time, instead of braking, she leaned into the pedal, picking up speed. Were the guards on to them? Had the word gone out that a patient had escaped with his blood intact, or were the guards just responding to the alarm? Melanie didn’t know, but she didn’t want to risk it.

“Get your heads down, everyone,” she said, pushing Shona forward until she was bent over her backpack.

The SUV reached the end of the driveway and turned hard into the parking lot, clipping the curb in the process. They bounced and thumped, then roared around the corner, out of sight of the guards. Ahead, another driveway curved down and joined with the main hospital entrance.

“How do we get out of here?” Lizzy asked, her voice rising.

“The same way we came in,” Melanie replied.

“The guards there will never let us leave!”

Melanie tried to think of other options. They could try to drive over the yard to the parking lot of some other building. They could keep circling the hospital to find another exit. But, no, the fastest and clearest exit seemed the best. Her heart pounding against her ribs, she grabbed the catch handle above her door and held on tight.

“Liz, you’re just going to have to blast past the guards,” she said. “Don’t stop, don’t slow down. Hit the barriers and keep going, don’t look back.”

“Oh, gosh, really?” Lizzy said in a breathless voice. She reached into her shirt pocket and produced the asthma inhaler, but she didn’t have a free hand to take the cap off. Instead, she set it on the seat beside her and unleashed an expulsive breath. “Okay, fine. So be it. Everyone, brace yourselves. This is going to be incredibly stupid.”

Melanie glanced in the sideview mirror and saw the two guards race around the corner. They paused a second, then turned suddenly and started running across the hospital’s south lawn, heading, it seemed, toward the main entrance, as if to reinforce the guards there. Mr. Turner was rooting around in the back, and Melanie realized he’d grabbed the hunting rifle and pulled it into his lap. Beside him, Mark’s head lolled on his shoulder, and his lips were moving, as if he was talking under his breath.

Hang in there, Mark, she thought.

Lizzy made a turn at the end of the parking lot, heading down the driveway to the hospital’s entrance. Off to their left, some yards away, the two guards from the emergency room were trying to flag them down.

“Faster,” Melanie muttered, wringing her hands. “Faster, Lizzy.”

“I’m working on it,” Lizzy replied, “but if they start shooting…”

She left the thought hanging. Ahead, the driveway descended a slight slope toward the hospital entrance. Melanie saw the big orange sawhorses blocking both lanes. The guards were standing in pairs on either side, but something had drawn their attention to the intersection beyond. A semi pulling what appeared to be a refrigerated trailer was approaching from the direction of the interstate, its turn signal flashing. One of the guards stepped forward and beckoned the driver of the semi.

“Now’s our chance,” she said, “while they’re distracted.”

“Yeah, here goes,” Lizzy said. She took a deep breath and floored it.

“Hold on tight, everyone,” Mr. Turner said.

The semi had just started to turn when something caught the attention of one of the guards. Maybe it was the shouting coming from the south lawn. Maybe it was the revving engine bearing down on him. Whatever the case, he turned and saw the SUV racing toward the hospital entrance.

“Stop! Stop right there!”

At the last second, he took a step into the road, then thought better of it and flung himself out of the way. The semi was turning in, and the other guards were caught. The one that had been directing the semi swung around, moving behind one of the sawhorses and raising her rifle. Lizzy uttered a little squeak of terror, then she slammed into the barricade.

At the moment of impact, the guard fired. The right headlight shattered and went dark as the sawhorses went flying. One of them hit the guard and shoved her into the path of the semi. The other went bouncing and spinning off across the intersection. As the SUV blasted through, the semi driver hit his brakes. Melanie put a protective arm around Shona, and ducked down.

Shouting voices chased them, and she heard the crack of another rifle being fired. Then they were turning, burning rubber as Lizzy cut the corner at speed. In the back seat, Mark groaned loudly, and Mr. Turner cursed under his breath. The SUV fishtailed a bit as Lizzy tried to find her lane. When Melanie finally raised her head, she saw the hospital disappearing in the rearview mirror. They were headed west, toward the interstate and the dark city beyond.

25

The street ahead was littered with dead vehicles, which forced Lizzy to slow down, but she was veering wildly. Finally, when they were well out of sight of the hospital, Mr. Turner leaned forward, clutching his forehead.

“Can we please pull over somewhere?” he said. “I think we all need a breather after that experience.”

“Yeah, sure, Dad,” Lizzy replied. “The whole city is dark and full of weirdos. Where do you want me to pull over?”

Melanie spotted a little gravel turnaround beside an undeveloped field, and she pointed at it. “Right there, maybe. At least it’ll be harder for people to sneak up on us.”

“Creepy dark field,” Lizzy muttered, slowing the SUV. “Whatever you guys want.”

She pulled into the gravel turnaround and came to a stop, slamming the vehicle into Park and collapsing against the steering wheel with a sigh. Only when she’d finally come to a complete stop did Melanie realize how badly she was shaking. The fear seemed to catch up with her then, and she felt dizzy. Flinging open her door, she tumbled out of the car, landing on the gravel on her hands and knees.

“Mom, are you okay?” Shona asked, climbing out after her.

“Give me a second,” Melanie said. Her heart was racing so fast, it made her sick. Oh, God, they were going to drain his blood and sell it. What sort of a hellish black-market operation did we just stumble into? “I can’t believe it. The hospital…they just…”

Her daughter grabbed her by the arm and helped her to her feet. Then Shona hugged her fiercely. They held each other for a minute, but Melanie couldn’t seem to stop the quaking in her soul. At some point, the back door opened, and Mr. Turner stepped out, stretching his arms over his head.

“I think you all handled that quite well,” he said.

Melanie pulled away from her daughter. Both Lizzy and Mr. Turner were there now, his arm around her shoulders.

“What do you think happened there?” Melanie asked.

“It’s pretty clear,” Mr. Turner replied, gently fingering the bandage on the side of his head. “Some criminal organization used the chaos of the solar event to take over the hospital. Many of the staff and patients had probably already left in the panic, and the ones that remained behind were rounded up and dealt with.”

“Where the heck are the police?”

“Same place they’ve been all evening,” he said. “Like you said earlier, overwhelmed and scattered and unable to communicate with one another.”

Melanie took deep breaths to calm herself. It helped, and she finally went to check on Mark. He was leaning back in the angle between his seat and the door, a scowl on his face. The bandage on his shoulder had soaked through.

“We got out of there, but we solved nothing,” she said. “Mark needs help. The bullet needs to be removed, if possible, the wound cleaned and stitched up, and he really needs some antibiotics.”

Lizzy came up beside her. “There are other hospitals in town. Take your pick. They can’t all be overrun by criminal organizations.”

“No, I won’t risk that again,” Melanie replied.

“If only we knew of some other place that had access to medicine,” Mr. Turner said. “A medical supply facility, a private clinic, a black-market vendor, anything.”

Melanie reached across the back seat and took Mark’s hand. He looked at her with bloodshot eyes and managed a faltering smile. But, of course, there was a place that had medical supplies. All kinds of medicine, including antibiotics, surgical needles and thread for stitching up wounds, and just about anything else they might need to treat Mark’s wound. Realizing it, Melanie shuddered.

“How’s he doing?” Mr. Turner asked.

“Feverish,” she replied, “and the wound is bleeding badly.”

“Let me take a look.” He gently pushed past her and got into the back seat with Mark. As he began to unwrap the bandage, Mark groaned.

“You guys,” he said, voice slurring. “It’s not that bad. Just give me a few minutes to rest, and I’ll get my strength back.”

“And your shoulder?” Mr. Turner asked. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s not as bad, actually,” Mark said. He reached over, as if to examine his own wound, but Mr. Turner gently pushed his hand down. “It still feels kind of hot. Is that weird?”

Mr. Turner wadded up the old bandage and thrust it at Melanie. She took it and, not knowing what else to do with it, dropped it at her feet. Then she reached over the back seat and grabbed the first aid kit.

“Yeah, this thing is bleeding like crazy,” Mr. Turner said. “I wonder if the bullet has shifted around in there. I really want to dig it out, but the risk is too great like this. I can’t go rooting around in there without proper medical instruments. He could also use some fresh water. I’ll bet he’s dehydrated by now with all of this sweating and loss of fluid. Mel, hand me clean bandages.”

Melanie dug around in the first aid kit and grabbed a fresh roll of bandages, passing it to him. As he began to wrap it around the wound, Mark groaned again. He tried to speak, but his words came out all jumbled up this time, and he gave up.

“He has to get treated as soon as possible,” Mr. Turner said. “That’s all there is to it.”

“Let’s just get out of here,” Lizzy said. “I really don’t want to stand here by the side of the road much longer. The city is so damned dark. It’s creeping me out. If he needs help, let’s pick a place and go for it. Whatever.”

Mark’s condition was worsening fast, that was clear, and Melanie felt intense pressure to make a decision. She had settled the question in her mind, but she hesitated to say it, knowing how people would respond. As she shut the lid on the first aid kit, she blurted it out.

“The supply closet at Beaton’s Food Factory,” she said. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Lizzy.

“What about it?” Lizzy replied.

“It has all the medical supplies we need to treat Mark’s wound properly,” she said. “He’s got shelves and shelves of stuff. The guy could open his own urgent care facility.”

“Uh…yeah, you could live in that closet for years.” Lizzy uttered an anxious little bark that might have been a laugh. “But those supplies belong to a bunch of trigger-happy freaks. We missed out on our opportunity to join Derrick Platt’s cult, I’m afraid.”

“Derrick said they plan to raid the community,” Melanie said. “That means they won’t always be hunkered down inside the warehouse. You and I can get in there. We could navigate that place with our eyes closed and our ears covered. As long as we avoid Derrick and his buddies, it wouldn’t be a problem to pick the lock and get in the supply closet.”

“And you think this is safer than dealing with that vampire gang back at the hospital?” Lizzy said.

“Mom, Mr. Platt and his guys tried to shoot us,” Shona said. “Did you already forget? They’ll kill us in a heartbeat, if they get a chance. We can’t go there.”

Melanie turned to face the others. Shona was sitting in the open door of the front seat, staring at the ground. Lizzy was anxiously fiddling with her inhaler, spinning it between her fingers and bouncing it from hand to hand. In that moment, Melanie felt guilty. How could she even suggest such a ridiculous thing? Shona was right. Derrick and his people would certainly shoot them on sight.

“Well, it has to be done,” Mr. Turner said, after a moment, turning to look at Melanie. “Let me be blunt here, girls. Mark’s life is on the line. We need what’s in that closet. Unless you know for sure there’s somewhere else to get it, then the factory is our best bet. If there’s a chance those men will be gone, then it’s a risk we have to take. Dealing with a known risk is always better than dealing with an unknown risk, right?”

Lizzy hung her head, but she offered no further resistance. Melanie had a moment of tremendous self-doubt, but in her mind she could see the shelves packed with medical supply boxes, overflowing with pill bottles, blister packs, syringes, and so much more.

“I’ve worked there for almost twenty years,” she said. “Since I got out of high school. Lizzy, you’ve been there for ten. We know that place. Heck, we’ve both worked there since the old Mr. Platt ran the place. We probably know it better than Derrick at this point, certainly better than his buddies—Josh, Hunter, Cooper, whoever else.”

“In twenty years, you never knew about the secret closet,” Lizzy reminded her. “The closet that we accidentally locked ourselves in. Maybe you’re overestimating how easily we can navigate that place. Most of our time was spent on the factory floor, occasionally in the locker room or break room. That’s about it. We’ll get shot as soon as one of those cult freaks sees us.”

“Then we can’t be seen.” A switched had been flipped in her mind. Melanie had settled on a course of action, and she was committed to it now, risk or not.

Lizzy was staring hard at her own feet, but she nodded now and said, “Fine. Mom wouldn’t want anyone else dying tonight, so if we have a chance of saving Mark, let’s do it.”

“Good.” Melanie turned to her daughter. Shona was bent over the backpack, face buried against the side. “Shona?”

“I vote for the factory,” Shona said, “if it will save Dad. But we have to be really careful.”

“We will be. Okay, everyone back in the Suburban, then. We’re going. I’ll drive.”

Melanie shut the back door and walked around to the driver’s door. Shona and Lizzy got in the front. As Melanie got behind the wheel, she turned on the high beams, hoping to get two working headlights. However, it seemed both the low and high beams on the right side had been destroyed by the bullet. She put the SUV in Drive and pulled back onto the dead street, heading in the direction of Beaton’s, northwest of Knoxville.

She reached the access road of interstate 75, creeping along. The lanes were cluttered with vehicles. Many of them had been in accidents. From time to time, she saw people walking in the gloom. They swam into the dim headlight like ghosts, then were quickly consumed by the night.

“There’s another commercial property next to the factory, isn’t there?” Mr. Turner said. “You should have a good view of Beaton’s property from there. We can watch the place for a little bit and see how many people, if any, are guarding it.”

“Good idea,” Melanie replied.

They were headed back the way they’d come earlier that day, and it was all terribly familiar. Melanie saw lights far in the distance. Some were headlights. Yes, there were other vehicles still on the road. However, she also saw a few fires still burning.

How about that poor Weigel’s I set on fire? Not my proudest moment.

Eventually, they reached the traffic jam where the shootout had taken place, and she was forced to drive on the shoulder to get around all of the cars. They passed familiar sights—an abandoned warehouse, a residential neighborhood, the charred Weigel’s gas station, a Kroger grocery store—and all of these mundane sights were now tinged with threat. She also felt Beaton’s getting closer, and she slowed down. Finally, she glimpsed it in the distance, a long building behind a concrete fence topped in barbed wire.

“Turn off your headlight,” Mr. Turner said. “Cut through this shopping center up here and park across the field from the factory.”

She saw a hint of light coming over the fence of Beaton’s, but the high wall hid any vehicles or people on the other side. She cut off her headlight and turned into the shopping center across from the factory. She made her way past dark storefronts, many with broken windows and the residue of looting scattered in front, and finally stopped in an employee parking area at the back of the lot. As she pulled to a stop beside a dumpster, she realized they were high enough now to see over the wall. Beaton’s was straight ahead, across about thirty yards of open field. On the left, a small auto body shop sat behind a weathered fence.

She killed the engine and let a dreadful stillness take over. Her breathing seemed loud in her ears.

“Well, here we are,” she said, trying to calm herself. Nothing helped. “Now what?”

“Get up as high as possible and take a look at the factory,” Mr. Turner said. “Survey the enemy grounds and plan our approach.”

Melanie opened her door and stepped outside. Then she climbed up onto the hood of the Suburban, bracing herself against the rooftop, and slowly stood up. She stared down at Beaton’s, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. A small light was shining somewhere around the side door. Possibly a flashlight. In the backwash of light, she made out two vehicles parked near the door. The first one she remembered all too well: Hunter’s old police vehicle with its bar lights on top.

“Anything interesting?” Lizzy asked. She’d gotten out of the passenger door and was standing below, leaning against the dumpster.

And then Melanie saw the second vehicle, and her blood ran cold. An 80s-model Dodge Dakota with a two-tone paint job of blue and gray. Derrick’s truck. How had it wound up back at the factory? The answer was obvious, but she scarcely had a moment to think about it before she spotted the third vehicle, another old pickup truck—apparently, the preference ran deep in this cult—parked near the back. Two men were unloading large items from the back of the second truck.

“Melanie, what do you see?” Lizzy asked. “Say something.”

Before Melanie could answer, they heard the sound of a dog barking, and Melanie saw the animal dashing back and forth around the men. She recognized the shape of one of the people—gawky and awkward in his own body. Nathan Platt. The dog ran to him, hopped up and put its paws against his stomach, before barking again and bounding off.

“Oh, my gosh,” Lizzy said. “Is that Dusty? Is that our dog?”

26

Melanie was impressed at how quickly Lizzy was able to transform her fear into seething, tooth-gnashing rage. She was pacing back and forth in the gap between the SUV and the dumpster, as Melanie continued spying on the factory.

“I can’t believe it,” Lizzy said, speaking through clenched teeth. “Derrick Platt. That disgusting piece of garbage, Derrick Platt. He ordered the raid on my parents’ house. They killed my mother and stole our dog. Mel, I’m going to strangle him to death. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’m going to wrap my hands around his giant, fat neck, and I’m going to watch him die. Do you hear me?”

There were three people visible now. Two unloading the truck, including Nathan, and a third just inside the factory to receive what they’d stolen. Melanie couldn’t see much more than that. Lights inside the factory were dim, casting the third man in silhouette.

“That’s it. I’ve had it,” Lizzy said. She stormed off to the back of the SUV and opened the back hatch.

“Now, Lizzy, don’t do anything rash,” her father said. “Remember, we’ve got a specific purpose here, and it’s not strangling Derrick Platt.”

Melanie heard her friend rooting around in the back of the SUV. She reappeared after a moment, carrying her father’s hunting rifle. As she walked back to the front of the vehicle, she opened the breech.

“What are you doing?” Melanie asked.

“Just making sure it’s loaded,” Lizzy replied, closing the breech. She took up a position in front of the SUV and raised the rifle, aiming it across the field.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Melanie climbed down off the hood and went to her friend’s side. She pushed the rifle down. “Put that away.”

“No, I won’t.” And Lizzy actually struggled against her, trying to raise the rifle again. “They’re going to get what they’ve got coming to them. Do you hear me? I’m going to shoot my way in there and kill them all.” There was a tightness to her voice and a wild-eyed look on her face. Lizzy wasn’t exaggerating. She was actually on the verge of losing it.

Melanie grabbed the gun, pulling it out of her friend’s hands. “That’s not the way we handle this. You have to calm down.”

But Lizzy bent over and began making a weird huffing sound. “No, I can’t. Mel, it’s too much. It’s all too much. I’m going to…I have to….” She wrapped her arms tightly around her belly, and her huffing became a low animal growl.

“She’s making way too much noise,” Mr. Turner said from the back seat. “Take her inside the building next door, if necessary, so she can let it out. Otherwise, they’re going to hear us.”

Melanie put an arm around her friend and guided her toward the nearby fence. Through a large gap, she could see the auto body shop on the other side. It seemed to have been hastily abandoned in all the chaos. The garage bays were still open. She stepped through the gap and pulled Lizzy in after her. Her friend was still making weird low noises, clutching her belly as if to contain what was inside of her.

“They killed my mother,” she said. “They stole our dog. Derrick Platt. Derrick Platt and his cult. I have to make them pay, Mel. I have to…”

Melanie led her into the dark garage and toward a back office. The door was unlocked, and they stepped into pitch blackness. Once the door was shut, she heard Lizzy pacing again, knocking things over, cursing under her breath, smacking herself. It went on for a full minute, then two. Finally, Melanie reached out and grabbed her friend, finding her forearm in the darkness.

“Derrick Platt,” Lizzy snarled. “I hate the name. I’ve always hated him, but now he’s attacked my family. He’s killed my mother. He did this. Everything at the house. That was his cult, Mel. He said he was going to conduct raids, and he targeted my house first! I’m going to kill him. I swear to every god that ever was, I’m going to watch that man bleed out.”

“Okay, okay, yes, I hear you,” Melanie replied, pulling her into an embrace. “Listen, we will deal with Derrick in due time. I promise. But you have to calm down so we can formulate a plan. If we don’t handle this the right way, you won’t get your revenge, and worse, you’ll endanger yourself and others.”

Lizzy unleashed a final, long growl, an awful sound that came from somewhere deep within her. Then the tension seemed to leave her body and she slumped against Melanie’s shoulder.

“I’m better now,” she said softly. “I’ve never been so furious, but I’m calm. Well, I’m calmer, anyway.”

“Let’s go back to the car and come up with a plan,” Melanie said. “Can you do that? Can you sit with us and calmly discuss it?”

“Yeah, I think so. My head is pounding, but I’m normal again. I promise.”

Melanie led her back out of the auto body shop, kicking some stray items her friend had knocked onto the ground. They went back to the Suburban and climbed in the front seat, where a nervous Shona and Max were waiting for them. Mark, for the moment, seemed to be noisily sleeping.

“All better?” Mr. Turner said.

“I’m going to shove Derrick through the factory grinder before the night is through, but otherwise, I’m fine,” Lizzy said. “What’s our plan?”

“Do either of you girls know a secret way into the factory?” Mr. Turner asked. “Maybe a door that is little used?”

Melanie considered the layout of Beaton’s Food Factory, mapping it out in her mind. “Yeah, in the back, around the corner from the loading bays, there’s an old door that isn’t used these days. It’s the place where smokers used to go on break, so there’s a picnic table nearby. There used to be an awning over the table providing shade, but weather damaged it, so Derrick took it out and never replaced it. After that, the smokers stopped using it, and now the door has no real use.”

“Perfect,” Mr. Turner said. “That’s our way in.”

“Okay, let’s decide who’s going and who’s staying,” Melanie said.

“I think this is going to take all of us,” Mr. Turner added quickly. “We’ve got five people. We need some to sneak in and head to the storeroom. Others to take up positions outside and watch. Nobody gets left behind this time, I’m afraid.”

“Well, we can’t take Mark in there,” Melanie said.

“We must. Mel, dear, he needs help fast. I think you and I should go to the storeroom and take Mark with us. As soon as we get in there, I want to do field surgery on him. Liz and Shona can keep watch.” He paused a moment and added, “That’s what I think, anyway. You know this place best, so I’ll leave the final decision up to you.”

In truth, Melanie didn’t like it. She didn’t like any of it. If it had been up to her, she would have taken the rifle and gone into the factory alone. How could she put her family and her best friend in danger like that? But alone, she was much less likely to succeed and she knew it.

“Mom, I’m not staying in this car,” Shona said. “If you’re going inside, I want to go too. That’s a lot less scary than being out here by myself.”

“Whatever you decide, do it quickly,” Mr. Turner said. “For Mark’s sake.”

And that settled the matter. Still clutching the rifle, Melanie opened her door. “Okay, we’ll go with your plan. I guess that means we’re taking the wheelchair. Let’s make a quick inventory of everything we’ve got. Come on.” Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly, then got out of the SUV.

Lizzy, Shona, and Mr. Turner all climbed out of the SUV, and they went to the back gate to make an inventory of their gear. They had guns, plenty of ammunition. They had the first aid kit. Melanie had a small flashlight in her purse.

“I trust you can pick the lock on the door,” Mr. Turner asked.

“Well, I left the lockpicking tools in that supply closet,” Melanie replied.

Mr. Turner nodded, tapping his chin. “I think I have an idea. You girls stay here. I’ll be right back.” And with that, he approached the fence and passed through the gap. He returned a minute later clutching some tools, which he spread out alongside the first aid kit.

“Perhaps you don’t remember,” he said, “but you demonstrated your lockpicking skills to me when you were a teenager. You were quite proud of yourself, as I recall.”

“Oh, I remember,” she replied. “It was one of my best skills. What can I say?”

“Well, you didn’t have any fancy lockpicking tools then. You used tools from the garage, so here you go. Take your pick.”

Melanie rooted through the tools. A tiny screwdriver of the sort used by jewelers. She picked it up and put in her shirt pocket. Some paper clips. She took a few of those as well. “I can work with these,” she said.

“Are you sure?” he replied.

“No, but it’s our best bet.”

Lizzy took the hunting rifle and slung the strap over her shoulder. Melanie grabbed the Glock 19 and put it in her purse. Then Mr. Turner grabbed a few items from the first aid kit and jammed them in his pockets. Finally, they pulled the wheelchair out.

We’re really doing this, Melanie thought, unease crawling down her spine.

“It would be wise for all of us to be armed,” Mr. Turner said, picking up the Mossberg. He grabbed one of the other pistols and handed it to Shona, who took it reluctantly and slid it into her pocket.

“We’ll leave the Suburban here,” Melanie said. “If we get separated somehow, meet back here, okay?” She looked at each person in turn and saw her own anxiety mirrored in every face.

“How do we get over the wall?” Lizzy asked.

“Through the gate, of course,” Melanie said, moving to the side of the vehicle to retrieve Mark. “Derrick has a mechanical lock on the latch. I saw it earlier. If I can pick one lock, I can pick another. Our former boss doesn’t realize who he’s dealing with here. He doesn’t know my past. He’s about to find out.”

“Just let me get the killing shot,” Lizzy said. “Please. That’s all I ask.”

“If it comes down to that, I certainly won’t get in the way. However, killing people isn’t our priority. Please remember that.”

“It could be at least a secondary priority,” Lizzy muttered.

Mark wasn’t sleeping, as she had assumed. He was in a stupor, and he looked at her with bleary eyes as she unlatched his belt. She checked to make sure the bandage was tight, then wrapped her arms around him and hoisted him into the wheelchair. When she turned, everyone else was standing in a line behind her, waiting for her to take the lead.

“Okay, keep your voices down,” she said. “Here we go.”

27

Pushing the wheelchair across a field turned out to be rather difficult. The front wheels got stuck on every little pit or fold in the ground. Finally, Shona and Melanie each took a side and just carried the thing the rest of the way. They circled around to the front of the factory. Fortunately, there were no lights outside the wall, and night had fully fallen. This gave them plenty of shadows to hide their approach. Occasionally Mark roused from his stupor and made some soft sound, and Melanie had to lean down and quietly shush him.

When they reached the front of the property, they set the wheelchair down at the corner, where the shadows were deepest. Then Melanie crept toward the front gate, Lizzy at her back with the rifle. She could still hear the men unloading the truck, and Dusty was frantically barking now.

She smells us, she thought. Hopefully, that sweet dog doesn’t give us away.

Derrick had put a big silver padlock around the gate handle in place of the usual electronic lock. She almost laughed. Such locks were just about the easiest to pick. Indeed, Melanie had taught herself how to pick locks on exactly these kinds of locks. Using a couple of bent paper clips, she went to work on the lock and had it popped open within seconds. She carefully removed it from the gate and set it aside.

At some point, Dusty’s barking had stopped, so she leaned toward the gate and listened. She heard nothing. Perhaps the men were done unloading. Still, she couldn’t be sure, so she eased the gate open as slowly and quietly as possible. The truck had been parked around the side of the building, out of their line of sight, but she knew a single errant sound might give them away. As soon as the gate was open enough to pass through the gap, Melanie held a finger to her lips and slipped through. Mr. Turner was pushing the wheelchair, and Mark took a loud, shaky breath. Melanie half-expected Dusty to come running, but they’d apparently taken the dog inside.

As soon as the entire group was through the gate, she slowly pushed it shut again and started off across the parking lot. The only light illuminating the place came from around the corner by the side door, but it was a weak light. Still, she could see a hint of light through one of the windows on the second floor. Fortunately, the food factory was mostly solid, insulated wall with limited visibility of the outside. That was to their advantage.

They crept around the northeast corner of the building. Near the back, a single weathered picnic table sat on the sidewalk beside a small, neglected door. The unused smokers’ area was also the darkest part of the property at the moment—another advantage. Melanie and Lizzy took the lead, with Lizzy aiming the rifle before them as they approached the door. Shona and Mr. Turner brought up the rear, pushing the wheelchair.

“You know, if Derrick or some of his men are out on a raid,” Lizzy said, speaking just above a whisper, “they’ll notice that the lock is undone on the gate when they return.”

“Nothing I can do about that,” Melanie replied. “We’ll just have to move fast and get this over with before anyone realizes we’re here.”

When she reached the door, she knelt down, pulled the makeshift lockpicking tools out of her jacket pocket, and went to work on the lock. She signaled Lizzy and Shona to keep an eye out, one looking in either direction. Mr. Turner sat near the picnic table with Mark, the Mossberg held at an angle, so he could quickly aim and fire. As Melanie was working on the locks, using the jeweler’s screwdriver and a couple of bent paperclips, she heard noises coming from the office above. Dusty was barking, and she knew it was the kind of sound she made when she was excited.

She senses that her owners are down here, she thought.

At the sound of the dog, Lizzy began to fidget, glancing up repeatedly at the window. The theft of the dog was still almost too much for her. Another reason to move fast. Melanie felt the lock pop open, and she turned the handle. It made a metal-against-metal sound, and she winced. Dusty began barking even more frantically, but she heard voices now—people trying to get the dog to shut up.

Easing the door open, she saw a dim hallway stretching out before her, faint light illuminating the far corner. Around the corner, she knew, were the stairs to Derrick’s office and the shorter hallway that led to the factory floor. Melanie beckoned her daughter, and when Shona drew near, she pointed at a spot beside the door

Judging by the grimace on Shona’s face, she didn’t like the idea of guarding their exit, but she slipped inside and stepped to one side, taking up her position. Melanie leaned in close and whispered in her ear.

“If things go to hell, leave the building and run,” she said. “You can get over the wall from inside the property using the dumpsters in the corner. That’s closer than the gate. There’s barbed wire at the top of the wall. Throw your jacket over it. Nod if you understand.”

Shona nodded. Melanie beckoned Lizzy and Mr. Turner and stepped through the door. He cushioned the door with his shoulder as it swung shut. Melanie led them down the hall, then positioned Lizzy at the corner with the hunting rifle. From here, she would have a clear shot at anyone coming down the stairs or coming around the corner from the supply closet. Melanie pointed at the gun, pointed at Lizzy’s eyes, and pointed to the hallway.

Keep your eyes open. Be ready to defend us.

Lizzy nodded.

Now, it was down to Melanie, Mr. Turner, and Mark in the wheelchair. She led them around the corner, creeping forward. The bottom of the stairs was just ahead on the left, and she could still hear Dusty’s muffled barking coming from the office upstairs. Mark grunted, and she turned and put a hand over his mouth. But he was delirious and didn’t seem to notice. Indeed, Mark was leaning to one side, and Mr. Turner was using his right forearm to keep him in his seat. She could hear voices coming from at least two directions. Two from up in the office. A third was faint, and she thought it might be coming from the factory floor. She didn’t think either of them was Derrick, but she couldn’t be sure.

This might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, she told herself, and she had to look back at Mark, all flushed and delirious, to remind herself why she was here.

They crept past the stairs and approached the next corner. On the right, she saw both supply closets. As before, they were propped open with rubber door stoppers. The pushcart from the holiday party was in the hallway near the factory floor doors, a few empty boxes piled on top, as if they’d been moving supplies around. Melanie heard scrabbling sounds from above—dog claws on a wooden door. Dusty was frantic to get to them.

She hurried around the corner and slipped through the open supply closet door into the near absolute darkness beyond. As she did, she heard the faint whirring of wheels behind her, and Mark took another loud, pained breath. As soon as Mr. Turner was past her, she moved the rubber stopper, let the door swing almost all the way shut, then put the stopper in again. Just enough to keep it from latching, not enough to let light seep out. Then she reached into her purse and produced the flashlight, turning it on, illuminating shelves upon shelves of survival supplies. Mr. Turner gasped, and even Mark lifted his head and looked around in half-conscious amazement.

“Medical supplies on the right,” Melanie whispering. “Find what you need, sir. Let’s move fast and get out of here.”

Digging through the shelves, she found a small cloth bag tucked between two boxes. It had the name and logo of a local pharmacy on it. Together, she and Mr. Turner went through the shelves of medical supplies, picking what they needed. He grabbed a small field surgery kit, a suture kit, and sterilization supplies, then he rooted through boxes of pills and grabbed blister packs of antibiotics and painkillers. Melanie found a big bottle of Gebauer’s Ethyl Chloride Spray, a topical anesthetic, and grabbed it.

“This is amazing,” Mr. Turner said, setting the Mossberg on a shelf. “You weren’t kidding when you said he could run his own clinic.”

“Can we get the bullet out and clean the wound right here?” Melanie whispered, “and can we do it super-fast?”

“A couple of minutes is all I need,” he replied, pulling a metal stool close so he could sit down in front of the wheelchair. “Find something for Mark to bite down on. Even with a topical anesthetic, this is going to hurt.”

As Mr. Turner went through the looted supplies and picked out what he needed, carefully lining them up on the nearest shelf, Melanie looked through boxes. Biting down on something during surgery. This had indeed become a Civil War battlefield hospital. Mark had predicted it. On a shelf loaded with cooking supplies, she found a large wooden spoon. It seemed suitable, so she brought it back to the wheelchair.

She knelt beside Mark and took his hand, and he looked at her through narrowed eyes. In the flashlight beam, he seemed very pale. Her purse was in the way, so she slid the strap over her head and set it on the ground nearby, but she made sure the main pocket was open, the gun within easy reach.

“Mark, my dad is going to treat your wound,” she said softly, patting his hand. “It might hurt, but I really need you to keep quiet. Try not to scream. Can you do that? We’re in a dangerous place, and we don’t want the bad people to overhear us.”

“Is it…those fake doctors again?” he mumbled. “Trying to…take my blood?”

“Worse,” she replied. “Actually, the worst. So can you fight the urge to scream?”

He frowned at her, but nodded. “I think I can do that.”

She opened the pill bottles and gave him a double dose of the big pink antibiotic pills, then chased it with a little green and yellow Tramadol. He had trouble swallowing them, so she had to crack open a bottle of water. Already, it felt like too much time was passing, and her nerves felt increasingly on edge.

“Here, Mark, bite down on this,” she said, holding up the spoon. He opened his mouth dutifully and let her place the handle between his teeth. “I’ve given you medicine, but we can’t wait around for it to take hold, okay? Please, just endure the pain. We have to do this.”

At this, he leaned his head back and shut his eyes, already grinding the spoon handle between his teeth.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Mr. Turner said. “Keep that light focused on his right shoulder. I’ll work as fast as I can. Cross every available finger and hope someone doesn’t decide to enter the closet.”

And with that, he began unwinding the bandage on Mark’s shoulder. The wound was a puckered hole, roughly the size of a dime, oozing dark blood and some other pale fluid. Mr. Turner first used water from a water bottle to wash and clean the area around the wound, exposing it fully. This made Mark groan in pain, and when Melanie put a finger to her lips, he reached up and feebly grabbed the handle of the spoon.

“This is where it gets dicey,” Mr. Turner said. “Get the topical anesthetic. Apply it all around the wound.”

As Melanie grabbed the can of ethyl chloride spray, she froze. A voice arose from somewhere nearby. Two voices. People talking: one deep, one nasal. The first one was Derrick, and his step-scrape footsteps followed. Mr. Turner gestured for her to continue despite the noise, and she worked the cap off the can with her teeth. As she applied the topical spray all over Mark’s shoulder, she listened to the footsteps move past the closet and down the hall. Only when she heard the creak of the factory floor doors did she breathe again.

“I’m going to close the closet door all the way,” she said. She set the flashlight on a shelf, positioning it between two boxes so the light was focused on Mark’s shoulder. “At least if it’s closed, it’ll buy us a few extra seconds.”

“That’s fine,” Mr. Turner said, picking up a scalpel. “I’ve got it from here. Now, Mark, this is the part where you really need to fight hard. A single loud noise will give us away.”

Mark was still clutching the spoon, holding it in his mouth, but he nodded. Melanie rose and crept back across the closet. As she did, she heard Mark suck in his breath suddenly.

“Be tough, son,” Mr. Turner said. “You’re doing great.”

Melanie reached the door and listened for a second. Dusty’s barking was still filtering down from the upstairs office, so faint that it was more of an impression than an audible sound. She reached down and pulled the stopper. As she did, she heard the distinct sound of a door slamming shut from somewhere nearby, and she froze.

“I’ve got a fragment of the bullet,” Mr. Turner said. “It’s a big piece, but it’s not the whole thing.”

Mark moaned, and Melanie abandoned the door stopper to run back to him. She grabbed his hand, leaned in close, and shushed him, but his moan became a long, raspy breath. Mr. Turner had cut a small incision on both sides of the wound and removed a plug of gauze and half-dried blood. A fragment of the bullet lay on a shelf nearby. Currently, Mr. Turner was probing the wound with a pair of surgical tweezers.

“I won’t go too deep,” he said. “I just want to see if there’s another piece.”

Mark’s whole body was shaking now, and she heard his teeth grinding against the wooden spoon handle. She squeezed his hand as footsteps moved down the hall again, getting loud. A man was humming under his breath. Cooper? Hunter? She couldn’t tell.

“There it is,” Mr. Turner said. “The other big fragment. I can just reach it.” He drew the tweezers out and held them up, revealing another fragment of the bullet. “There we go. Perfect. Now, let’s pack this wound and get it sewed up. Almost done, Mark.”

He traded the tweezers for a suture needle and thread. The footsteps were right outside the door now, and Melanie looked back over her shoulder. Suddenly, Dusty was barking like mad again, only this time, she was loud enough that she knew the office door was open.

“Keep her in there!” Derrick Platt’s voice, no mistake. “I don’t want to hear another peep out of the dog. You got her all stressed out earlier, and now she won’t settle down.”

“She was calm for a while, boss.” A voice right outside the door. She thought it sounded like Hunter, his cop friend. “Something’s got her going again. It started while they were unloading the truck. I’m telling you, I’ve got that feeling.”

Mr. Turner had placed the suture and tied it off, but he glanced nervously at Melanie. Had they run out of time? Was this it? Mark gave another raspy breath, and she pressed a hand over his mouth.

“Do another circuit,” Derrick said from outside. “You and Cooper walk the perimeter outside. Now that night has fallen, the vultures may be circling the factory. Deal with it swiftly.”

“Got it,” Hunter replied.

Shortly, she heard one of them walking away, and she rose, grabbing the flashlight and the bag of supplies. Mr. Turner finished putting a fresh bandage on Mark and patted him on the head.

“I think you’ll be okay, son,” he said. “You handled that quite well.”

Mark let the spoon drop into his lap, as Mr. Turner packed away the surgical implements inside the little kit.

“Mark really needs a minute to recover before we start pushing him around,” Mr. Turner said. “I don’t want to tear the wound open.”

“Well, we can’t leave yet anyway,” she said. “Not until those men clear out. I hope Lizzy’s safe in her spot.”

“You said that back door is never used,” Mr. Turner replied. “Let’s hope you’re right. Give it a minute, until we’re sure they’re gone. But if they’re going outside to patrol, escape will be tricky. We might need to wait a while longer.”

“I hate to leave Lizzy and Shona out there too long,” Melanie said. “A few minutes at most. Then we have to get out of here. Maybe I can warn them somehow.”

She set the bag of supplies in Mark’s lap, and he wrapped his arms around it, a gesture that reminded her very much of their daughter. As she crept back across the closet, she heard people moving down the front hallway, headed to the break room and the reception area beyond.

“I think this is it,” she said. “I think we have to get to Lizzy and Shona before this whole thing goes south.”

“Are you sure—”

Mr. Turner started to ask a question, but suddenly there came a burst of gunshots. Crack-crack-crack. They seemed incredibly loud in the closet, trembling in the walls. And then one of the men began to shout, cursing angrily in the distance.

28

Melanie would have run outside that very moment, rushing to her daughter’s side, but she heard Derrick and another man thudding down the stairs, snarling and huffing.

“Where’s it coming from? Where?” Derrick shouted.

“Reception, I think,” came the other voice. Josh? “Front of the building.”

They went pounding down the hall and around the corner, heading to the break room. As soon as they were gone, Melanie eased the closet door open and peeked outside. She saw the empty hall, the cart sitting forlornly nearby. There was a commotion taking place somewhere around the front door.

“I’m going to Shona,” she said over her shoulder. “Stay here with Mark until we know it’s safe to leave.”

“Okay, hurry back,” Mr. Turner replied.

Melanie pushed through the door and eased it back against the door stopper. Then she rushed down the hall, stepping lightly, and past the stairs. She heard a frantic Dusty whimpering and moving about upstairs. When she reached the corner where she’d posted Lizzy, she didn’t see anyone there. She turned the corner into the dark back hallway, expecting to find her crouched down somewhere, but she was gone. How the heck could that be?

At the end of the hall, Shona was squatting beside the back door, peering through a crack. Melanie made a soft sound to draw her attention, and her daughter spun around, letting the door shut in the process.

“Where’s Lizzy?” Melanie asked, beckoning her daughter. Shona duckwalked toward her, her face scrunched up in fear. “Shona, where did Lizzy go?”

“I don’t know,” Shona replied. “I was looking outside and when I turned around, she was gone.”

“Who just started shooting?” Melanie asked.

Shona shrugged. “I don’t know. It came from somewhere else.”

Melanie put an arm around her daughter and pulled her against the wall. Her mind was spinning. What the heck was going on? Where had Lizzy gone? Why was someone shooting?

Lizzy knows what she’s doing, Melanie told herself. And she knows her way around the factory. Maybe she’s buying you time to escape.

She wanted to believe it, but she recalled the fury on Lizzy’s face, the hate in her voice. The death of her mother and the theft of her dog had pushed her over the edge. What if she’d snapped and decided to take revenge on Derrick and his men? No, surely not. She wouldn’t put the whole mission in danger like that.

Would she?

Melanie realized her daughter was staring at her, waiting for her to say or do something. The girl was practically hyperventilating. Suddenly she heard voices coming from outside. She turned toward the back door and cocked her head to one side. Derrick’s voice above all. He seemed to be walking somewhere nearby. Circling the parking lot, perhaps? Shona had been holding the door open, but after she moved away, the door had swung shut again. However, it hadn’t latched. She could see it resting against the doorframe, and a light appeared in the crack.

Gesturing for her daughter to stay put, Melanie tiptoed back to the door and leaned in close, resting her hand on the doorknob. Men were walking by outside. And if they noticed the door wasn’t closed? She braced herself, ready to pull it shut if they tried to come through.

She heard Derrick Platt.

“Those shots came from somewhere out here,” he said. “It wasn’t some echo from the neighborhood somewhere, okay? I know the difference. Someone was firing shots either inside the wall or over the wall. I want to know who did it. Maybe they’re trying to draw us out. Well, guess what? They drew us out, and now they’re going to pay for it.”

“If they were drawing us out, maybe it was so they could sneak into the factory.” That sounded like Hunter, the cop. “The shooting came from the front somewhere, right? And all of us went rushing out like a gaggle of idiots. Maybe they snuck in behind us somehow.”

“Surely not,” Derrick replied. “Who would coordinate such an assault?”

“I have no idea,” Hunter replied. “Someone smart. Someone dangerous.”

“Someone we have to kill, then,” Derrick added. “Let’s get it done.”

They were walking past the door, headed for the back of the building. Melanie thought they were just on the other side of the picnic table at that moment. She held her breath, squeezed her eyes shut.

“Okay, I will go around back and check the factory area,” Derrick said. “That’s a likely target. They’ll most likely be looking for food. What’s the old cliché? Bread, bottled water, and toilet paper? That’s what the ordinary rabble craves most in the apocalypse. Hunter, you check the supply closet. We’ll keep Josh on point. Got it?”

“Got it,” Hunter replied.

She heard the men scatter, footsteps moving in multiple directions. The closest door to the supply closet was the one she was currently standing behind, but Hunter might not be as familiar with the layout of the factory. She waited as the seconds ticked past, Shona making furtive sounds behind her. Eventually, it became clear that every footstep was moving away.

Men coming from both directions. How would they get Mark out of here in time without being spotted? She had an idea, but it seemed reckless. Gently pulling the back door shut, she turned and dashed back to her daughter.

“Okay, time to get out of here,” she whispered, turning her daughter around. “Head to the closet and get Dad and Grandpa out of there.”

“What about you?” Shona asked.

“I’m going to buy us a few minutes,” Melanie replied. “Don’t wait for me. Get them out of the building, and I’ll be right behind you. Got it?”

Shona hesitated a second before nodding. Melanie propelled her around the corner, rushing past the stairs. When they reached the supply closet door, she nudged her daughter in that direction but kept going straight. Ahead, at the end of the short hallway, big double doors led to the factory floor. Earlier in the day, a fire door had slammed shut to block it, but somehow, Derrick must have raised it.

That would have come in handy right now, she thought.

Somehow, she had to delay Derrick long enough for her family to get out of the closet, across the parking lot, and out the front gate. The factory floor, at least, was big, dark, and full of all sorts of nooks and crannies. Perhaps she could play a bit of cat and mouse, keeping him moving around in there.

She heard Shona and Mr. Turner speaking softly through the open closet door. She would have shushed them, if she could have. Instead, she crouched down and pushed through one of the swinging doors. The doors led to a ramp that descended onto the massive factory floor. Long production lines took up most of the space. The company mostly made prepackaged snack cakes, the kind carried by gas stations and convenience stores. During a shift, the whole place reeked of sugary baked goods, but at the moment, it mostly smelled like cleaning supplies.

Walkways ringed three sides of the room, leading to the storerooms in the back. The employee locker room was in a corner on her left. She knew all of this from sense memory, but the darkness was deep and impenetrable. Still, she crept down the ramp and approached the end of the nearest production line, where the packaged foods were stacked in boxes.

Far across the room, one of the doors into the storeroom creaked open, and she heard familiar shuffle steps entering the factory floor. Derrick was breathing hard. She could tell he was headed directly down the main production line toward the ramp, so she reached out until her fingers brushed the stack of flat corrugated boxes on a pallet just in front of her. Grabbing the box on top, she carefully lifted it from the stack and cast it into the darkness like a large Frisbee. It sailed halfway down the production line, hit a metal panel, and made a loud ringing sound.

“What was that?” Derrick shouted. “Who was that? Hunter? Josh? Hey!”

He started moving back and forth through the room. Melanie backed down the other side of the production line, moving from station to station. Derrick was just across from her, but his path was still taking him to the ramp. Fumbling with her hands, Melanie found one of the shelves at a worker’s station. A roll of clear tape sat on the corner, the kind used for sealing box lids. She picked it up and chucked it overhand so that it sailed over the line and over Derrick. It hit the far wall with a bang.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Derrick said. To her surprise, he sounded almost amused. “I see what kind of game we’re playing here. Well, thief, you’re not armed or you would have shot me already, so why don’t you go ahead and tell me who you are. It’s gotta be someone connected to Beaton’s. An employee, maybe a contractor. Might as well reveal yourself.”

Indeed, she wasn’t armed, and she realized now that she’d left her purse in the supply closet, with the Glock inside.

She heard Derrick lunge to one side suddenly, as if he intended to dash around the end of the production line and come for her. Apparently, he had at least a rough idea of where the projectile had come from. Melanie rose and backed down the line, guiding herself from memory to avoid the various work stations and equipment along the way. However, a few feet back, she suddenly slammed into a large crate of some kind. She heard what sounded like bottles clanking inside, and she rebounded, catching herself against the covering of one of the packaging equipment motors.

The sound was tremendous—the thud of hitting the crate, the rattle of plastic bottles, her forearm slamming into the stainless-steel covering.

“Oops, took a bad step, did you?” Derrick said. He was at the end of the production line now. “You want to watch yourself in here. We’re storing a lot of extra stuff. Oh, you didn’t know about that, did you? Yeah, it’s changed since the last shift.”

Melanie stretched out her hands and felt the top of the feeder belt. She hoisted herself up onto it, intending to drop down on the other side and lead him to the storeroom in back. Anything to buy a few more minutes for her family. Her heartbeat was fierce in her temples, in her throat, cold sweat running down her back. Still, she clamped her mouth shut to ensure she didn’t make any inadvertent sounds that might give away her identity.

“You think I didn’t expect some little vermin to try to nibble at the cheese?” Derrick said.

He grunted then, as if exerting himself. Suddenly, a heavy object slammed into one of the large volumetric fillers that hung over the line just above her head. To keep it from dropping onto her, she rolled off the belt on the other side. In the process, she dropped onto a chair and knocked it over. Then she crashed onto the hard concrete floor.

Derrick’s footsteps were moving through the room, but she couldn’t tell where he was going. Dazed, she grabbed for a handhold, found a shelf, and pushed herself off the ground. Unfortunately, the shelf creaked and gave away her position, so she froze in place, holding her breath. Derrick stopped moving as well, and suddenly the factory floor was deathly quiet. Where had he gone?

Doesn’t matter, she told herself. Run to the storeroom in back. Make him follow you.

A loud chunk shuddered in the walls as light suddenly flooded the factory floor. A row at a time, the overhead lights came on. For safety’s sake, the production area was brightly lit, practically shadowless, and it stung her eyes. She hunkered down behind the line, reaching for some kind of weapon, but all she managed to grab was a cardboard box of hairnets.

Derrick Platt stepped out of the control room in the corner and strode out on the upper walkway. He was filthy, his short-sleeved dress shirt covered in dust, dirt, and what might have been splotches of blood. He had a bandage on his upper arm, and his hair was all in disarray. His face had some nicks and scratches, and he had another small bandage across his left cheek.

“Look at you cowering there,” he said, his voice thundering in the high-ceilinged room. “Melanie Pearson. Of course you’re my little vermin. Of course. Volunteering to clean up again, I suppose? I know you were rooting around in my supply closet. You left that damned handcart in there, you idiot!”

He marched down the walkway, tromping down the steps as he approached the ramp. Melanie had trouble keeping her gaze on him. The bright lights were making her eyes water.

“It was all just a little too tempting, huh?” he said, laughing and patting his big belly. She noted then that he had a revolver in his right hand. “Well, it was a bold move, I’ll give you that. In a way, I appreciate the test. We were bound to get looters eventually, so I thank you for that. Now, come on.” He flipped his left hand at her. “Tell me who else is skulking around the place. Is your buddy here? Good old Liz Turner. She’s usually lurking nearby when you’re present.”

“No, Lizzy’s not here,” Melanie lied. “I came alone. In fact, she’d be furious if she knew I was here. I was just going to grab…a few essentials…for the family. I knew you had plenty. Bread, bottled water, toilet paper.” The lie didn’t come together as smoothly as she wanted, but she pressed on. At least it was killing more time, giving the others a better chance to escape. “Look, I failed. It was worth a shot, and I failed. I’ll go now and never bother you again. Like you said, consider it a test of your self-defense capabilities, right?”

Derrick was coming down the ramp now. Melanie glanced over her shoulder to check her escape path and found that the aisles were cluttered with large plastic tubs. Most of them had lids, but the few that were open were filled to overflowing with a variety of brand-new items: silverware, plastic bottles, pocket knives, small jewelry boxes. It looked like Derrick had been raiding department stores or warehouses.

“How do I know you won’t try to break in here again once things get really bad?” Derrick asked, reaching the bottom of the ramp. “And they will get much worse. You haven’t seen real desperation yet. Give it a few weeks, a few months. People will be eating other, gnawing the meat right off the living bones. You’ll be right back here. No, I can’t risk that.”

“The Turners,” Melanie said, trying to remain calm despite the squirming fear in her belly. “You raided the Turners’ house. You attacked them. Why?”

“Ah, yeah, that.” Derrick gave a little shrug and an insulting grimace of mock embarrassment. It made Melanie furious. “I liked the Turners. I really did. But I put Cooper in charge of the raid, and he got a bit too excited. Didn’t like when Mr. Turner took a shot at him, so he…did what he did. Sorry for the loss. They were good people.”

He thinks they’re both dead, she realized. He doesn’t know Mr. Turner survived.

“And the dog?”

Another mock shrug. “Now, let’s not rewrite history here. That dog belonged to my father first, and really, she should have come to me, don’t you think? He gave that dog away even though he knew I wanted her. Well, she’ll be safer here with me. Now, come. Let’s quit stalling for time. There’s no use talking about dogs and dead people.”

He approached the end of the production line, and Melanie dared another glance over her shoulder. How hard would it be to shoulder her way through the gap between stacks of boxes? Before she had a chance to find out, the swinging doors whooshed open, and Hunter appeared. In the harsh light, with his filthy clothes, he had the appearance of a long, lean scarecrow.

“Boss, we’ve got him,” he said.

As Derrick turned to his lackey, Melanie went cold.

“The intruder,” Hunter continued. “We’ve got him. He’s in bad shape. Real bad. Bloody and pale. What should we do with him?”

They didn’t make it out, Melanie thought. All thought of fleeing left her, as she steadied herself against the edge of the conveyor belt.

“Put him out of his misery,” Derrick said, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“No,” Melanie cried, an unintentional outburst.

Derrick turned and smile at her, a lifeless smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “Sounds like he’s half-dead anyway, so what are you screaming about, Melanie? You brought him here.”

Hunter gave a little salute to the back of Derrick’s head and stepped back through the doors, letting them swing shut. Desperate, Melanie tried to think of some way to bargain with him.

“Let him go and punish me instead,” she said. “This wasn’t his idea. He’s not even thinking clearly.”

“If he’s half-dead, he’s useless,” Derrick said. “A half-dead looter isn’t fit for anything but fertilizing the garden, but you…I don’t know, maybe we can still get some use out of you. What do you think?” He took another menacing step toward her, raising the gun as he did. “You could be the first member of the new serf class in my utopia. You’d probably rather die, wouldn’t you? It wouldn’t be worth the risk keeping you alive anyway. Just a passing thought.”

“Just let Mark go and we’ll talk,” she said.

He pointed the gun at her, and suddenly, her mind went blank. No getting out of this. She was standing up, fully exposed, with nowhere to run, and nothing to bargain with. Because he was at the end of the line now, dropping to the floor would no longer provide cover. Helpless, she raised her hands in front of her, as if she might somehow block the bullets.

This is it, she thought. This is how you die. Futile. Absolutely futile, all of it.

The doors above the ramp swung open again, and some low shape bounded into the room. Moving fast, almost silent, it rushed down the ramp, head down, leading with one shoulder like a football player. Derrick started to turn. At the last second before impact, there was an ear-piercing cry. It seemed to startle Derrick, who drew his arms in against his body, as if to protect himself. Then the attacker slammed into him, hitting him in the stomach, and flung him backward.

He hit the stack of flat boxes at the end of the line, which came up to mid-thigh, then rolled to one side and fell onto the concrete floor.

“That’s for my mom,” Lizzy cried, catching herself against the boxes.

Melanie leapt onto the conveyor belt and rolled to the other side, landing awkwardly near Derrick. He was on his belly, pushing himself up with his forearms, the gun still clutched in his right hand. Melanie dropped down, driving her knees on top of his right arm. At the same time, Lizzy leapt onto his back like a pouncing cat, a crazed light in her eyes.

“I’ll kill you, Derrick Platt,” she wailed. “I’ll kill you!”

Derrick struggled to rise, but Melanie reached down and grabbed the gun, twisting it in order to wrest it from his hand. He tried to hold on, but Lizzy began punching and slapping him, hitting the back of his head, his neck, his shoulders. Finally, she brought both hands forward, dug her fingernails into his cheeks, and pulled backward, slashing his face. He uttered a hoarse cry, and his grip weakened. Melanie pulled the gun free and rose, backing away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Derrick said, his voice tight with pain. “Are you insane?”

Lizzy climbed off him, and he tried to rise. As Melanie brought the gun up, however, Lizzy leapt at him again. Teeth bared, she dove at him sideways, like a professional wrestler. Driving with her shoulder again, she landed on his head, and her momentum—and full body weight—drove his face into the concrete with a dull thud.

“I said I’ll kill you,” she shouted again.

She crawled backward off him, panting, and rose to her knees. But Derrick was lying flat now, arms spread out before him, his face mashed against the floor. As Melanie watched, a dark puddle of blood began to spread around him.

“I think you did it,” Melanie said. She bent down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, lifting his head off the ground. She saw blood running from his mouth and nose, from his eyes and ears. He didn’t seem to be breathing. “I think you just killed our boss.”

“Good,” Lizzy replied, picking herself up and pushing her hair back from her face. “He deserved it.”

“Where are the others?”

“I went out the front door earlier to try to draw them into the parking lot,” Lizzy said. “I know it was a dumb idea, but just standing there was too nerve-wracking. I came back through the smokers’ door. It’s still unlocked, you know? I don’t know where the others are. I ran past the supply closet, but I didn’t look inside. Derrick’s voice was sort of a beacon. I couldn’t resist.”

“The break room,” Melanie said. “That must be where they are. Where’s your gun?”

“Ran out of bullets,” she said. “I was going to reload…but I just lost my mind, I guess. Do you know how hard it is to reload a bolt-action rifle in a life-or-death situation? Anyway, I think I dropped it in the hall, and a bunch of bullets, too.”

Melanie sighed. “Lizzy, you’ve got to pull it together. We’re not out of this yet, and we could use that gun right now.”

“Yeah, well, losing my mind worked, didn’t it? Derrick Platt is smashed on the floor like a bug.”

Melanie stepped over Derrick, and the very large pool of blood he was creating, and headed back up the ramp, Lizzy at her back. Leading with Derrick’s gun—a Smith & Wesson .38 with a wooden grip—she pushed through the swinging doors. The supply closet was on her left, and the rubber stopper still held it open just an inch. She heard people moving somewhere down the hallway that led to the break room. As she looked in that direction, she saw a few stray bullets, still in their jackets, scattered on the floor.

“Where’s the rifle?” Melanie asked Lizzy.

“I dropped it right there,” Lizzy replied, pointing at a spot just outside the supply closet.

“Well, it’s not there now.”

“Don’t look at me.”

Something moved in the narrow gap of the closet door—a darker shape moving in the darkness. Melanie aimed the gun in that direction and crept toward the door. As she drew close, she heard a muffled voice, as if someone were trying to speak while their mouth was covered. With her foot, she pulled the stopper out from under the door, then she swept the door open with her free hand.

At that moment, light awoke in the closet, a bright flashlight shining right in her eyes. She saw a shape in front of the light and knew it was the wheelchair. Somehow, Mark had been positioned right in the middle of the closet, in a place where the aisles crossed.

“Stop right there.” A familiar nasal voice, and now she saw the other figures in the closet.

Shona was kneeling beside the wheelchair, holding her father’s hand. Hunter loomed behind them, the gun in his hand pressed against the side of Mark’s neck. Her husband had a pained looked on his face, his mouth hanging open. There was no sign of Mr. Turner. Had they been separated somehow in the attempted escape?

“Look, Hunter, there’s no reason for this,” Melanie said. “Derrick Platt is dead.”

“I don’t believe you,” he replied. “Is this all of your people? Are there are any other members of your little raiding party hiding in the building? I want to know.”

“No, this is everyone,” she said. She had the .38 pointed at him, but she knew if she didn’t kill him with the first shot, Mark was dead. “There’s no reason for this. We only came here to get some antibiotics for my husband, but we can part in peace.”

“Sorry, there’s no peace in the new world,” Hunter said.

He seemed like he was about to say something else when the gunshot exploded in the room, a bright orange flash serving as a counterpoint to the white flashlight beam. Melanie dropped to her knees, cowering against the doorframe. But suddenly the flashlight shifted, and she watched as Hunter fell to one side, slamming into a shelf of tools. The gun fell from his hand, and he grabbed at his neck, blood gushing. He uttered a weird, gurgling sound and crumpled to the floor, taking a few boxes full of screws, nails, and tacks down with him.

The flashlight landed in Mark’s lap, and he looked down at it with a confused frown, as if he had no idea where it had come from.

“Good shot, Mel,” Lizzy said from over her shoulder.

“That wasn’t me,” she replied, picking herself up. “I don’t know where that shot came from.”

“It was me.” Mr. Turner stepped out from behind a shelf on the left, wielding a sleek black Glock 22, a thin trail of smoke rising from the barrel. “Sorry, I had to make sure it was a clean shot, and I couldn’t aim until he turned the light on.”

He approached the body of Hunter and knelt, dragging him away from the shelves.

“Dead?” Melanie asked.

“Dying,” Mr. Turner replied. “And fast.”

“Dad, where did you get that gun?” Lizzy said, pushing past Melanie to enter the closet.

“We were just about to leave, when he came to the door,” Mr. Turner replied. “I managed to duck back out of sight, but I couldn’t pull Shona or Mark with me. Fortunately, I wound up beside the gun cabinet. I told you, Melanie showed me how to pick locks when she was a teenager. Believe it or not, I remembered. While that man was threatening them, I used his voice as cover and opened the cabinet. Now, what about the others?”

Shona rushed toward her mother. Melanie reached out to embrace her, but then she heard footsteps in the hall behind her. Already on edge, she spun around, inadvertently pushing her daughter aside in the process as she brought the .38 up.

A mustachioed man with thinning hair, he came to a stop as soon as Melanie pointed the gun at him. He seemed surprised, eyebrows rising. He had a pistol in his hand, but he immediately dropped it at his feet.

“No, no, don’t shoot,” he said.

“Josh, is it?” Melanie asked.

He nodded.

“Derrick and Hunter are dead,” she said. “Would you like to join them?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, in a quavering voice. “I surrender. Look, Cooper already fled. He turned chicken when he heard gunshots and went right out the gate the minute Derrick wasn’t breathing down his neck. If Derrick and Hunter are dead then it’s over. This whole operation is finished, and I’m done. I never wanted it to go like this anyway. I’m not your enemy.”

Lizzy and Mr. Turner came out of the closet then and approached him, moving around to either side. He gave them each a quick, anxious glance, and his left leg trembled, as if he were about to flee. But Lizzy lunged forward and grabbed his left arm, Mr. Turner the right, and they pulled his hands behind him. Melanie lowered her gun and approached.

“Look, I’m not a thug or whatever you think,” Josh continued. “I’m a veterinary tech. I was a volunteer firefighter and EMT in Rocky Top. I’m not like Derrick, I swear. Hey, if you’ve got an injured man, I’ll help him. What do you say?” He tried to take a step forward, but Mr. Turner and Lizzy wrenched his arms back and held him in place.

“No, that’s okay,” Melanie said. “We don’t need your help.”

She heard a loud, long moan behind her, a sound of pain and weakness coming from the closet. Then a shifting sound, a creak of the wheelchair seat.

“Mom!” Shona cried. “It’s Dad! He passed out!”

29

She rushed to Mark’s side. He was bent over his armrest, his head hanging down. As she leaned in close, she heard his breathing—fast and irregular, labored. She pressed her fingers to the side of his neck and felt only a weak pulse.

“What’s happening to him?” she asked. “Did Hunter hurt him somehow?”

“I don’t think so,” Shona replied. “He was just sitting there, and suddenly he flopped over. What’s wrong with him, Mom?”

“I don’t know.” She grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him, trying to settle him back in the seat. But he leaned back, mouth open, eyes rolling back in his head. “Oh, God, what is it?”

“Let me help,” Josh said. “Please, at least let me take a look. I swear I’m not your enemy.”

Melanie looked back and saw him standing in the open doorway, Mr. Turner and Lizzy still holding his arms behind him. He was different than the others—the only one of Derrick’s men who hadn’t participated in the parking lot gunfight. Was that enough reason to trust him?

“Okay, take a look,” she said, picking up the flashlight and stepping to one side, “but don’t try anything.”

“I promise you, I only want to help.” As soon as Mr. Turner and Lizzy let go of his arms, he rushed forward and squatted in front of Mark.

The smell of blood was heavy in the air, but the shadow of the wheelchair hid Hunter’s body.

“We need to lay him down somewhere,” Josh said, after a moment. “We have beds down the hall. Come on. We have to hurry. I think his blood pressure is crashing. Someone help me. Someone else bring medical supplies, as much as you can get your hands on.”

Melanie stooped down and grabbed the bag of medical supplies on the ground, as Lizzy and Mr. Turner helped Josh lifted Mark out of the wheelchair and carry him out of the closet. As they headed down the hall, she had a moment of intense doubt. What if Josh was leading them into a trap? What if other men were waiting down the hall to capture or kill them all?

They would have done it already, she told herself. Mark needs help right now. This is the risk you have to take.

The bag and flashlight in her left hand, the .38 in her right, she hurried after them.

“Mom, is he going to be okay?” Shona asked, following her.

“I have no idea.” No sense lying to her now.

Josh directed them down the long hall to the office that belonged to shipping manager Stan Lipton. Melanie wondered briefly what had become of Stan. Was he out there in the city somewhere? Had he made it home? Had he been caught up in the madness? When she reached the office, she saw that it had been transformed into a makeshift bedroom. Most of Stan’s stuff was gone, except for a file cabinet and some shelves. A small futon sat where his desk had been. They laid Mark down on this bed, and Josh began removing the bandage. Melanie removed medical supplies and surgical tools and lined them up on the edge of the bed.

“Any of you have medical knowledge?” Josh asked.

“I do,” Mr. Turner replied. “I’m the one who worked on him before. Removed bullet fragments from his shoulder. You know he was shot by you and your men at my house.”

“That wasn’t me,” Josh replied. “Derrick left me here to keep an eye on the factory. I don’t think he trusted me to participate, if you know what I mean. Sir, you’re going to help me. I need to look inside the wound and see if there’s a problem. The rest of you, please wait in the hall. Please.”

Melanie glanced at Lizzy, who frowned deeply. Then she handed the flashlight to Mr. Turner and stepped into the hall, beckoning the others to follow. Josh was bent over Mark. She wanted to watch, but Mr. Turner’s broad back blocked her view. She put an arm around Shona, pulled her close, and waited.

“There’s another big fragment in here,” Josh said, after a minute. “See it there?”

“Yes, I couldn’t see that one before,” Mr. Turner replied.

“He’s bleeding internally pretty bad,” Josh said. “You need to stitch this up here. It doesn’t do much good to stitch up the outside if he’s still bleeding on the inside.”

“I did my best under the circumstances. We were in a hurry.”

“I’m not blaming you,” Josh said. “We’ll take this other fragment out and stop the bleeding. Then we’ll try to get him stabilized. Hand me those surgical tweezers, please, and keep the light right here.”

Melanie finally began to pace. The evening’s events had left her feeling shaky and sick to her stomach, and what if it had all been in vain? What if Mark didn’t make it?

Derrick Platt is dead, she reminded herself. Your boss died right in front of you. Lizzy smashed his head into the ground.

It didn’t feel real, and she kept replaying the events in her head over and over again. Mrs. Turner dead, Derrick and Hunter dead, Mark on the verge. As she paced the hall, Shona walked with her, but Lizzy was scowling darkly against the wall, her hands planted on her hips.

“I haven’t heard my dog in a while,” Lizzy said finally. “If any of these people hurt Dusty…”

“She’s upstairs in the conference room,” Josh said. He was still bent over the wound, working frantically to stitch something deep inside. “Derrick locked her in there with Nathan when the dog wouldn’t stop barking. He’s got the keys in his pocket, if you want to go get her.”

Lizzy gave Melanie a questioning look. Can I go get my dog, please?

“Yes, of course,” Melanie replied, handing her the .38. “Hurry back.”

“There’s no one else in the building,” Josh added. “Cooper was the only other guy, and he left. The rest of them are dead now.” He sounded sad when he said it, but he kept right on working.

Lizzy trotted off down the hall, disappearing around the corner. Melanie continued to pace, and eventually she fell into a kind of stupor, losing track of time. She was vaguely aware of Shona at her side.

How will Nathan react to his father’s death? she wondered.

After a minute, she heard footsteps on the stairs, then the barking of a dog. She had just turned to make another pass in the hallway when Lizzy came around the corner holding Dusty’s leash, the dog barking, whimpering, and leaping in a vain attempt to lick her face. Nathan Platt was behind her, his head down, walking reluctantly. When he looked up at Melanie and saw her face, he came to a stop, and she realized she probably had an unfriendly look. She couldn’t help it.

“The kid knows,” Lizzy said. “About…you know who. I told him.”

Shona grunted angrily and pushed past her mother. “You people better be nice to Nathan! None of this was his fault.” She glared at her mother over her shoulder, then glared fiercely at Lizzy, before walking to Nathan. “Come on, Nathan. You’re just fine.”

“I’m sorry, Nathan,” Melanie said. “For everything. You’ll be okay.”

“Of course he will,” Shona said. “I’ll make sure of it!” It was a rare moment of fierce will from her daughter.

Josh appeared in the doorway of Stan Lipton’s office, pulling off a pair of bloody latex gloves. “I think he’s okay now. I removed the final fragment, stopped the internal bleeding, and cleaned up the wound. He just needs to rest now.” He tossed the gloves into a nearby trash can.

Indeed, Mark seemed fairly peaceful now. Mr. Turner was applying a fresh bandage, and Mark seemed to be breathing steadily.

“Thanks, Josh,” she said. “You proved yourself to me, and I’m grateful.”

He nodded and bowed his head. “I wish things hadn’t gone this way. I tried to stop our club from going off the rails, believe it or not, but Derrick was the boss. Anyway…” He trailed off.

“Well, what happens now?” Lizzy asked.

What happens now? Melanie felt that question looming over her, vast beyond measure.

30

The bodies were laid side by side next to the loading bays, wrapped in blankets so that one was merely a long shape, the other a spherical lump. Cleaning up the blood was going to be an ordeal, but Melanie didn’t want to think about that right now. Mark was still sleeping—or more to the point, unconscious—and Mr. Turner had stayed in the room to keep an eye on him. Shona and Nathan were playing with Dusty in the break room. That left Melanie, Lizzy, and Josh to deal with the dead bodies.

“The front gate is locked,” Josh noted. “Cooper couldn’t get back in here now if he wanted to.”

“Good, so no one’s going to sneak in here and attack us while we’re cleaning up?” Melanie said. “What do we do with these two? It’s not like we can give them a proper burial.”

“Couldn’t we just toss the corpses over the wall and let them serve as a warning to others?” Lizzy said, coldly.

Both Melanie and Josh turned at looked at her.

“No, we’re not doing that,” Melanie said. “Anyway, it would draw attention to the factory, which we don’t want.”

“Well, there’s always the incinerator,” Josh said. “It’ll send up a bunch of smoke, but it’s better than leaving the bodies outside to rot and stink up the place.”

“Okay, I guess that’s what we do, then,” Melanie replied with a sigh. Burning bodies in the trash incinerator. Had she reached a new low in life?

Lizzy rounded on Josh suddenly. “These guys were your buddies and pals. You’re okay with this all of a sudden?”

Josh shrugged. “No, I wouldn’t say I’m okay with it, but it happened. I don’t blame anyone but Derrick. He set the tone. I tried to talk sense into him, but he really thought he was going to become some kind of post-apocalyptic warlord. I was just into the prepper stuff, to be honest.” He gestured at a stack of pallets nearby. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll haul the bodies down to the incinerator for you.”

“Thanks,” Melanie said.

As Josh loaded the bodies onto a pallet and used a pallet jack to transport them to the incinerator, Melanie and Lizzy went back to check on the others. In truth, the factory was so loaded with food, medicine, and supplies that they could thrive here for years. She didn’t relish the idea of setting up camp in Derrick’s domain—it made her feel like some kind of pirate—but there was no better option on the table.

“We’ll need to make an inventory of everything in the factory,” she told Lizzy, as they walked past the supply closets, where the stench of blood still hung heavy.

“That’s going to take a while,” she replied, “but I’ll handle it, if you want. I need some kind of busy work, to be honest. I’m still all shaky.”

“Okay, it’s in your hands, then,” Melanie said.

Lizzy headed up the stairs to get some forms for making an inventory, but Melanie went to Stan Lipton’s office to check on Mark. She found him lying on his back, breathing loudly through his mouth, as Mr. Turner sat beside the bed. Mark’s color was still bad—too pale.

“How’s he doing?” she asked.

Mr. Turner looked up. He had a sleepy look on his face, and the bandage on the side of his head needed changing. “His heart rate and breathing seem stable.”

“You should get some rest,” Melanie said. “There are beds in the other offices.”

“No, I’ll stay here with him for now,” Mr. Turner said. “You know, at some point, we’ll have to go and get the Suburban. It’ll be safer parked here inside the walls.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Melanie said, patting the Glock holstered at her side.

“Just be safe.”

She nodded and left, heading down the hall to the break room. The generator was still running, but she intended to shut it down soon. They needed to reserve fuel. There was no telling how long this crisis would last—maybe forever. When she reached the break room, she found Shona and Nathan playing fetch with Dusty, tossing a tennis ball across the room. Despite everything that had happened, all of the fear and death, the loss of loved ones, they seemed to be having a good time, chatting and laughing. A small Christmas tree still sat in the corner, limbs dangling with mismatched ornaments—a reminder of some other lifetime.

Maybe they’ll be okay, she thought.

They chucked the tennis ball right over her head as she passed through the break room. When she finally stepped outside, the whole world seemed so peaceful. As she approached the gate, she had the strange notion that everyone beyond the walls had died. The gate had a small hole near the handle, so she could reach through and unlock it. She now had Derrick’s keys, but it took a moment to find the right one. From there, she began the long slog back across the field to the auto body shop, casting furtive glances in all directions.

Now’s your chance, Cooper, she thought. Creep out of hiding and make your move, if you dare.

But he never appeared. Indeed, she neither heard nor saw anyone as she walked back to the SUV parked beside the auto body shop. She drove it to the factory without incident, the single headlight revealing dead cars in the nearby street, dead-eyed buildings in the shopping center. She pulled through the gate, parked, and relocked it. As she approached the front door again, she smelled smoke rising from the smokestacks at the back of the factory.

By the time she got back inside, Lizzy and Josh had joined the kids in the break room. Lizzy was making marks on a clipboard, but Josh was picking through a stack of books on a table.

“Mel, we’ve got even more than I thought,” Lizzy said. “Josh showed me more storage closets. Derrick had stuff stashed all over the place. Weapons, food, water, fuel, generators, medical supplies. There’s enough stuff in this factory to take care of a whole town.”

“He had big plans for his kingdom,” Josh noted. “It went from merely surviving an apocalyptic event to building some enormous compound full of laborers of various kinds. Oh, yeah, he had big, ridiculous plans.” As he picked through the books, Melanie realized they were the DIY books from Mr. Turner’s closet. Josh picked one up and showed it to her: 40 Projects for Building Your Backyard Homestead. “Where did these books come from?”

“I brought them,” Shona said. She was sitting in the corner now with Nathan and Dusty. “Mom, what do we do now?”

Melanie considered the question. They clearly had more than they needed in the factory. Should they really just hoard it all like Derrick Platt? No, that didn’t seem right. But, what then?

“Maybe we find a way to help others,” she said. “People are suffering out there. We’ve got friends, family, coworkers, neighbors out there in the darkness facing a bleak future. Surely we can use some of the stuff in here to help them.”

Shona gave her a big smile. Honestly, Melanie had spoken from the heart in that moment, but she hadn’t the least inkling of an idea how to carry it out. Indeed, she couldn’t just open the factory to strangers. She would never put her family in danger, not even to help others. Somehow, she would have to find a way to help others while prioritizing the well-being of her loved ones.

Figure it out another day, she told herself. You’ve done enough for now.

“That’s a job for another day,” she said out loud, pulling out a seat and sitting down at the table. “For now, let’s just hunker down here and see what the world intends to throw at us.”

31

Long after the others had gone to sleep, Lizzy and Melanie were still sitting at the table in the break room. They’d broken out some snacks and drinks, though neither of them had much of an appetite. Still, Melanie forced herself to eat as she idly flipped through one of the DIY books. At one point, she just happened to notice a stain on the counter, residue from the party earlier in the day. For some reason, this annoyed her far more than it should have.

“We were cleaning up this room when it all started,” she said. “Hard to believe that was earlier today. Feels like a week has gone by.”

“Feels like we fell into a parallel universe,” Lizzy said, idly stirring a small bowl full of mixed nuts. “Derrick was griping at us then, and now he’s ashes in the dumpster.”

Melanie wasn’t entirely comfortable with the self-satisfied way Lizzy said that, but when she looked at her friend, she saw tears in her eyes. She reached out and patted her on the arm.

“You know, your screwed-up childhood came in really handy,” Lizzy said, brushing away the tears. “Who knows what would’ve happened to us if you hadn’t learned to sneak around, pick locks, and steal cars?”

Lizzy was right, of course. All of those years of mistreatment and neglect, the turmoil and pain caused by her birth parents, had prepared her for this new broken world in ways she couldn’t have anticipated. Somehow, she suspected that it would continue to come in handy in the days, weeks, and months ahead.

“How are you doing?” she asked her friend.

Lizzy blew her breath out and said, “I don’t know. Okay, I guess. It’s all catching up to me. We left my mom in the tool shed at the house. Will we ever be able to go back there and give her a proper burial?”

“I hope so,” Melanie replied. “Once things have settled a bit.”

The only light in the room came from the flashlight, which she’d braced between two books and pointed at the ceiling. However, she heard someone coming down the hall, and she picked it up, aiming the beam at the door. Josh appeared then, rubbing his eyes.

“Are you still awake?” Melanie asked.

“I just wanted you to know,” he said. “I’ve been checking on your husband periodically, and I think I can safely say he’s out of the woods now. All of his vitals are strong. Heck, after a good night’s rest, he’ll probably be ready to start chasing his own tail again.” He grinned. “Sorry for the terminology. I am a veterinary tech, after all.”

“Thanks, Josh,” she replied.

He stood there a moment longer and seemed like he wanted to say more. Instead, he nodded again, said, “Well, that’s all. Just thought you should know,” and then he left.

They listened to his footsteps receding down the hall. Once he was gone, Lizzy took a long gulp of water from a bottle and said, “So what’s going on with Shona and Nathan? Is your daughter sweet on that kid or what?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Melanie replied. “Let’s not talk about that right now. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not. Nathan didn’t seem that disturbed about his dad’s death. He didn’t shed a single tear. I don’t know if he’s okay or not. I just don’t know. But we’ll look out for him. He’s been through as much as any of us.”

Finally, she’d reached her limit. Too many things to figure out in the future. Too many questions to answer. At least her family was safe for the time being. That was enough.

“Okay, I’m going to at least pretend to sleep,” she said, pushing her chair back and standing up. “We’ll see how tomorrow goes.”

She started to walk away when Lizzy rose suddenly and said, “Are we just as bad as them?”

“What do you mean?” Melanie asked.

“We killed a bunch of people today,” Lizzy replied. “We killed Derrick Platt and his friend. I smashed his head in and…I don’t feel guilty about it. Don’t they say…you know, combat soldiers…don’t they say you’re supposed to feel really bad the first time you kill people on the battlefield? But I don’t, Mel. I don’t feel bad.”

The thought had occurred to Melanie. Indeed, she was troubled at how easily they had dealt with the corpses. She’d known Derrick Platt for almost half her life. Shouldn’t her conscience be a bit more troubled than this?

“Maybe we’re just as bad as them,” Lizzy said. “They were killers, and we’re killers. We basically murdered them and stole their stuff.”

“That was never our plan,” Melanie said. “Derrick’s plan was evil. We were just making desperate decisions to protect our loved ones.”

Lizzy nodded, but Melanie could tell that she didn’t feel much better about it. Melanie herself was conflicted, but she decided to sleep on it. She decided to sleep on everything. Let this damned day be over. She gave her friend a hug, then headed for her bed, leaving the snacks on the table.

Cleanup begins tomorrow, she thought.

EPILOGUE

Lizzy, Josh, and Mr. Turner had come up with an impressive system for tracking, stocking, and storing all of the supplies in the factory. Melanie stood in one of the doors leading to the storeroom and looked at all of the carefully stocked shelves, the clearly labelled bins and boxes, everything neatly arranged by themes. Food and water on the left, medical supplies in the back, tools and other supplies on the right. There was just so much of it. She couldn’t believe it.

“More than we could ever need,” she said. “What do we do with all of this?”

It made her nervous. In a world of looting and desperation, they were sitting on the motherlode. Still, the others seemed to be enjoying themselves. As Melanie left the storeroom, she saw Shona and Nathan walking with Dusty around the perimeter of the factory floor, the dog frantically sniffing the ground. The large bloodstain from Derrick Platt was still just barely visible, a slightly darker patch on the concrete floor, despite much cleaning. Melanie made sure to step around it.

She went looking for Mark and found him in the break room. He had gotten out of the wheelchair days ago, though he was still unsteady on his feet. At the moment, he was seated at the table in the middle of the room, flipping through some of the DIY books from Shona’s backpack. Melanie went to his side and gave him a big hug. His arm was in a sling, so she had to be careful.

“These books are amazing,” he said. “They cover just about everything you can imagine. We could build a house from the ground up, weave our own clothes, plant a garden, or field dress a grizzly bear.”

“Yeah, those will all come in handy,” she replied. “Especially that last one.”

He reached up and took her hand, kissing it. “Gosh, I always wanted to field dress a grizzly bear,” he joked. “Seriously, though, these books will come in handy.”

“I think so.”

She heard some strange, faint noise then. The world had been so deathly quiet the past few days that any sound from outside was startling. At first, she couldn’t tell what it was. Then she eased toward the door that led into the reception area and the front of the building. As she did, it became clear that she was hearing the faint rumble of an older car’s engine. No, more than one. Multiple cars.

“You hear that?” Mark said.

“Yeah, I’ll check it out,” she replied.

“Be careful.”

“I’m armed,” she reminded him, patting the holster. She now kept the Glock 22 on her at all times. Derrick had a ridiculous stockpile of 9mm bullets in his gun case.

She approached the front door, pushed against the crash bar, and leaned outside. It was early afternoon, sun coming in at an angle over the west wall, drawing the building’s shadow across the parking lot. The gate at the front of the property was solid except for a small hole where the latch and lock were located. She couldn’t see anyone on the other side, but the sound of engines was unmistakable now, and she thought she saw a faint trail of smoke rising from the driveway on the other side.

What is it now? she wondered. Not passing vehicles. These sounded like they were idling in the driveway. Melanie stepped back inside and let the door swing shut. Then she headed back through the building.

“Is it trouble?” Mark asked, as she passed by.

“Probably,” she replied. “I’m going to head upstairs so I can see over the gate.”

“If it’s bad guys, chase them off,” Mark replied. “Take a few shots with the hunting rifle. We can’t afford to let them get inside the building.”

“We’ve reinforced every exterior door,” Melanie reminded him. “You can’t open any of them from the outside now except the one behind the stairs, and we’d pick off anybody that tried to break them down long before they got through.”

She strode down the hall. As she turned the corner toward the stairs, she encountered Shona and Nathan coming from the factory floor. “We’ve got visitors,” Melanie told her daughter. “Go inform the others. Take up your positions.”

Shona’s eyes went wide. She traded an anxious look with Nathan, then they both fled back into the factory floor, Dusty padding after them. By the time Melanie got upstairs, the others were already on their way. When she looked back, she saw that every adult was armed, and Lizzy was lugging the bag of ammo. Oh, yes, they were ready for an assault. They’d talked through many scenarios.

Lizzy’s job was to make sure every door on the first floor was secure, so she headed off to do that. No need to tell her. They’d run drills. Max, Shona, and Nathan went to Derrick Platt’s old office, where the windows gave a broad view of the north side of the building. Melanie and Josh went to the conference room, which had the only windows facing the front of the building. Dingy old curtains covered them, but she swept these aside.

The windows were double-paned, insulated glass, tinted on the outside to keep people from seeing inside. Melanie approached from the edge, leaning out past the window frame to gaze down upon the parking lot. Josh took a position at the other end of the window, pulling the hunting rifle off his shoulder.

Beyond the gate, Melanie saw several cars lined up on the driveway. They were just sitting there, idling. The car in front was a full-size conversion van, ugly as sin, with red and orange stripes running down the side, but she could only see a hint of the driver through the dark windshield. He seemed quite large.

“That van belongs to Cooper Wheedley,” Josh said, and then, quietly, as if to himself, “Well, that makes more sense.”

“What do you mean by that?” Melanie asked.

“I thought Cooper ran off scared that night,” Josh said. “That’s not really in his nature. He’s a pretty aggressive guy. He wasn’t running off. He was going to get reinforcements.”

“Who are the other people?” Melanie asked.

“Associates of Derrick Platt,” he said. “End-of-the-worlders like him. He didn’t invite them into the factory because they’re too rowdy. He was going to make them earn their way in, but I guess Cooper’s recruited them.”

Melanie reached for the window latch. She had expected trouble at some point, but not so soon. They had enjoyed a few days of peace, and she’d dared to believe they would have many more before the world closed in around them. Still, as she considered their position, she almost laughed.

“What are they going to do?” she said. “If they climb the wall, we pick them off. If they try to barrel through the gate, we pick them off. We’re armed to the teeth. We have enough ammunition to fight a full-blown war. They’d need a tank to get in here. What are they thinking?”

“Cooper’s not stupid,” Josh said. “He won’t charge in. Maybe he just wants to scare us.”

Melanie watched them carefully for a few minutes. The vehicles didn’t move. They just sat there idling and her gaze settled on the shape of the driver. She thought she could just make out the frizzy edge of a ruddy beard.

“Get a good look, Cooper Wheedley,” she said. “We’re ready. We’re ready for you and for anyone else who wants to get in here. We’re ready for the whole world.”

END OF EMERGING CHAOS

EMP DISASTER BOOK ONE

BLURB

Alone in the darkness, the survivors must fend for themselves…

After an EMP catastrophe shuts down power worldwide, the entire planet is plunged into darkness. Melanie and a small group of survivors have found shelter in an abandoned factory. But a violent horde is determined to kick them out of their safe haven. And without new allies to help fortify their position, defending their home may prove impossible.

When Melanie’s husband, Mark, falls ill from an infected wound, it becomes clear that the survivors cannot stay in their shelter forever. And even if they could, someone must venture beyond the walls to get the medicine Mark desperately needs.

Tensions run high. Anger, violence, and betrayal threaten to tear the survivors apart from the inside, before the mob beyond their gates gets a chance.

And when their enemies finally arrive, the price of safety may be too high for Melanie to pay…

1

Melanie had done her best to clear out Derrick’s cluttered office, by piling up his endless stacks of paperwork in the closet and clearing off the desk and shelves. Still, it was a grungy, yellow space. The air itself felt greasy and dirty, no matter how much she tried to clean up. It seemed Derrick Platt had left a residue that would never be entirely eliminated. It felt a little bit like trying to tidy up the scene of a crime. Indeed, there was still a hint of a large bloodstain down on the factory floor, a discolored spot that served as a permanent reminder of the violent showdown that had ended with her former boss being killed.

Slowly, the office was being turned into a large supply room, because it was centrally located. Indeed, all of their medical supplies were arranged on the desk and nearby shelves, and at the moment, Josh was rearranging them, while making marks on a clipboard. He had placed the more common supplies, such as bandages and disinfectant, on the desk, within easy reach of the door. Surgical supplies and other medicines were on the shelves, and he seemed to be moving them into precise locations when Melanie came through the door.

Josh was an interesting, if unusual, gentleman. He had a big, drooping mustache covering his upper lip, thinning hair carefully combed back from a lined forehead, and tough skin covered with old acne scars. At the moment, he was wearing a long-sleeve shirt with a tie, though he’d loosened the knot of the tie to an absurd degree. Still, despite his oddness, he’d proven to be quite useful.

“What’s our situation?” Melanie asked. “Will we be able to deal with medical emergencies?”

“We’re fairly well supplied,” he replied, making another mark on his clipboard. “You know, I’m a vet tech and I have EMT training, but my medical knowledge will only take us so far if someone gets really sick or injured.”

“What do you lack?” she asked. “We have some surgical tools. Is there more we need?”

“I lack enough training,” he said. “If we had an actual doctor or even an ER nurse in our group, we’d be in a much better place. How do you feel about recruiting new people?”

Melanie had actually considered this. “I don’t know how we’d go about doing that,” she said. “It’s not like we can post a job opening on a website. It would be nice if they just showed up at the gate and presented a resume.”

“People conducted job interviews long before the internet existed,” Josh said. “There are ways to go about it. We could definitely use a few more people if we really want to turn this factory into some kind of long-term haven. There are gaps in our knowledge base, you know? It wouldn’t hurt to fill them.”

Melanie tried to envision putting fliers on telephone poles, and she just couldn’t see it. Thus far, they’d stayed walled up inside Beaton’s Food Factory. How were they supposed to start engaging with the world outside again?

“You’re probably right,” she said to Josh. “Let me think about this for a little bit. There’s got to be a way to find skilled sane people.”

“Sane?” Josh said, with a little smile and nod. “That’s a tall order these days. Some of my closest friends, who I thought to be rational people, turned out to be lunatics, and I didn’t see it until the world ended.”

He was referring to Derrick Platt and his cronies, of course. The fact that Josh had been part of Derrick’s weird end-of-the-world cult made things awkward, and she usually preferred not to discuss it. Better to deal with the present reality. However, before she could change the subject, a tremendous boom shook the walls and sent dust cascading down from the ceiling tiles.

Melanie’s nerves were on edge most of the time these days, so she was quick to respond. She rushed to the office door and flung it open. From here, she had a view down the stairs to the first-floor hallway. Just then, Max Turner, Lizzy’s father, appeared around the corner, coming from the direction of the downstairs offices. Though he was approaching his seventies, had a bit of a gut, and wasn’t in the best of shape, he was moving fast. When he saw Melanie, he tried to stop, catching himself against the far wall.

“We’re under attack,” he said.

“Where?” she replied.

“Front door,” he said, pointing over his shoulder. “They shot something against the wall of the building. There’s smoke!”

“Get the others,” Melanie said, rushing down the stairs.

By the time she reached the bottom, Josh had started down after her. Melanie turned the corner and hurried down the long hallway, past a row of doors that had formerly led into office space. At the end, an open doorway led into the break room of Beaton’s, which had become somewhat of a gathering space for the survivors. Her daughter, Shona, was sitting at the table with her friend, Nathan, with the DIY books from the library spread out in front of them. Shona was frozen, half out of her chair, as if debating what to do next. Mr. Turner’s dog was whining anxiously next to them, her long muzzle intermittently rising to sniff the air.

“What did you see?” Melanie asked.

“Nothing,” Shona replied. “We heard something hit the door in the front room.” She pointed toward a door on the other side of the room. “It was really loud!”

Melanie approached the door. It was partially open, and she could see the reception area of Beaton’s beyond: a big desk in one corner, a row of chairs in another. There seemed to be a slight haze or mist hovering in the area, and when she stepped through the door, she caught a whiff of some faint vinegary smell in the air. Then she saw the front door of the factory. Though it was a sturdy metal door, tendrils of smoke were seeping in from the bottom.

“What is that smell?” she wondered aloud. “What did they hit us with?”

“Tear gas,” Josh said. He’d caught up with her, and he pushed past her into the reception area. “They must be firing it over the wall, hoping to get us out of the building.”

Indeed, she felt the first sting of the tear gas, and her eyes began to water. Squinting, Melanie turned and saw her husband entering the break room. Mark was wearing a tool belt, and his hands were dirty. He’d been taking apart some of the old factory equipment, trying to salvage the machinery for materials and parts they might be able to use for other projects. He was still recovering from his gunshot wounds from weeks earlier. She knew him well enough to see that he was trying to hide how bad he really felt. She tried to keep him from pushing himself too hard.

“Mark, we need blankets, towels, clothing, anything we can shove under the doors,” she said. “They’re trying to teargas the building. We need to block any and all gaps.”

He nodded and headed back the way he’d come. He didn’t need any further explanation. They’d seen the hostile people parked on the other side of the perimeter wall. Some kind of attack had seemed inevitable for a while.

Melanie went to the counter in the break room, grabbing a handful of towels. She wet them using their fresh-water barrel and returned to the reception area. By then, she was really feeling the effects of the tear gas. Her eyes were stinging, and her throat became scratchy. She pulled her shirt over her nose and mouth and shut her eyes, but it didn’t help much. Working blind, she worked the wet towels into the crack of the door, trying to shove them in as best she could.

“I’ve got this,” Josh said from beside her. “Go wash your eyes.”

She rose and rushed back to the break room. Nathan and Shona were still just frozen in place.

“You two,” she said. “Go to one of the inner rooms and shut the door. Take Dusty with you. Wait there until we come for you.”

“Are they breaking in?” Shona asked.

“No, I think they’re trying to force us out,” she replied. “Hurry. Go.”

Shona pushed her chair back, gestured at Nathan, and headed down the hall. Dusty ran after them, whining. A moment later, Melanie heard the door to the library room slam shut. She went to the water barrel, poured some water into her hand, and scrubbed her eyes. It helped a little, but not much. Her eyes were still stinging.

“Is this enough?”

Mark’s voice. With narrowed eyes, she looked up and saw Mark and Lizzy standing in the door, both of them carrying stacks of blankets, rags, and clothing.

“Maybe,” she replied. “Block all of the exterior doors, in case they fire at us from other directions. We don’t want any more tear gas getting into the building. This is bad stuff.”

“Are you okay, Mel?” Lizzy asked.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied. “Hurry up, you guys.”

Mark nodded and headed out of the room. Lizzy followed.

“Well, I knew we’d have trouble sooner or later,” Melanie muttered. “Weirdos parked on the other side of the wall just staring at us. They were bound to try something eventually.”

Just then, she heard another boom and felt a shudder in the floor. She turned to see Josh entering the room, rubbing his eyes. “That hit some other part of the building,” he said. “They could be coming at us from multiple directions.”

“Are these your old friends?” Melanie said.

“Quite possibly,” Josh replied, “or some other hostile group making their introduction. Best to take a look, eh?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

Melanie gave her face and eyes another douse of water and headed back down the hall. Her throat was burning badly now. She’d only gotten a whiff of the tear gas, and it was awful.

Yeah, this stuff could drive us out of the building for sure, she thought.

She mounted the stairs, but instead of going to Derrick’s old office, she went to the conference room at the end of the upstairs hallway. This room provided a view beyond the factory wall, with a big picture window looking eastward, beyond the gate. The dingy curtains were parted, so she could see the big gas cloud rising outside.

Melanie stepped around the table and approached the window. As she did, she realized both Josh and Mr. Turner had accompanied her. Through the veil of tear gas, she saw the high wall that surrounded the parking lot and building. On the other side of the gate, a pickup truck was parked at an angle, and a man was standing in the bed of the truck.

She recognized the truck as Derrick’s old pickup, an ’80s-model Dodge Dakota with a two-tone paint job of blue and gray. The man standing in the back was draped in camouflage from head to toe—cap, jacket, pants, and boots—and he had an enormous red beard. In his hand, he held a strange gun that looked something like a shotgun with a big round drum. As Melanie watched, he fired it, and a tear gas canister arced over the gate and landed somewhere on the north side of the building, bouncing on the asphalt. Fortunately, based on the arc of the canister, it seemed the second-story windows were too high for him to reach. Still, the parking lot looked like it was under a napalm blitz.

“That’s another one of Derrick’s people,” Mr. Turner said. “I recognize that red hair. He’s the creep that’s been stalking the building.”

Josh sighed. “That’s Cooper. You know, when our club started out, we were just into prepper stuff. Readiness. Cooper, he’s the one that kept pushing it to the extreme. We were trying to prepare for global pandemics and war and natural disasters and stuff like that, but Cooper was all about some new world order nonsense. Inverting the pyramid, he called it.”

“So, you’re saying he’s worse than Derrick Platt,” Melanie said.

“Oh, a thousand times worse,” Josh replied. “Heck, I tried to get Derrick to kick him out of the group, but he wouldn’t do it.”

As they watched, Cooper dumped the tear gas gun to one side, tossing it down as if he were mad at it. Then he dropped to his knees and rooted around in the back of the truck, digging through the piles of junk.

“Couldn’t we snipe the guy from this window?” Mr. Turner asked. “Normally, I wouldn’t suggest such a thing, but under the circumstances, it might be wise.”

“These windows don’t open,” Melanie noted, tapping the glass. “We’d have to shoot through them, and I’d rather avoid that, especially with the parking lot being a sea of tear gas.”

“Let’s use the rooftop,” Josh asked. “It’s the best place for spotting bad guys.”

“And picking them off,” Mr. Turner added.

They had roof access via a hatch and ladder in the control room. The rooftop was filthy and cluttered. As Melanie was considering it, she saw Cooper rise up suddenly, cock his arm back, and throw something over the gate. Something like a small, black ball flew into the parking lot, hit the ground, and bounced a couple of times. Just before it hit the front wall of the building, it exploded, the boom causing the windows to rattle. Melanie dropped down, pulling Mr. Turner down with her. She heard the distinct sound of shrapnel hitting the side of the building.

“Was that a grenade?” she cried. “Do Cooper and his people have grenades?”

She traded a wide-eyed, horrified looked with Josh, who shrugged in reply. “Anything’s possible,” he said. “They could have tactical nukes at this point, for all I know.”

Melanie’s fear turned quickly to seething anger. How dare Cooper come against her family like this. Trying to get his hands on the stockpile of supplies was one thing. She could understand that. Trying to murder everyone was another.

“That’s it,” she said. “We’re driving these people away, whatever it takes. Let’s go find Mark and Lizzy. We can defend the factory. There are plenty of weapons. We’ll make Cooper regret ever coming back here.”

2

The rooftop access door wasn’t used often, and Melanie struggled to get it open. Mark helped her, and together they finally managed to turn the big red handle by using a crowbar for leverage. Mark then took one of the hunting rifles and a box of ammunition and climbed the ladder.

“Be careful up there,” Melanie said, as he disappeared through the small, square hole. “I don’t like you being out in the open. Stay behind cover as best you can. We just need you to take potshots at them to keep them from attacking. Force them into hiding, if you can.”

“I’ve got it, honey,” he said, peering back down through the open hatch and giving her a little salute. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can while you guys mount a defense from below. Good luck.”

She returned the salute, though it felt silly. He was trying to lighten the situation, she knew, but it didn’t quite work. To her, this felt like war. Real war. Once Mark was gone, she headed back through the factory floor to the supply closets, where Josh, Lizzy, and Mr. Turner were waiting for her. The back corner of one of the closets was practically an armory. Derrick had installed a large gun cabinet there, where numerous guns and ammunition were stored, and more were carefully arranged on nearby shelves.

Melanie produced a key and unlocked the cabinet door, revealing an impressive array of guns. They’d brought their own, but Derrick had stashed guns here and in various places throughout the building. Now, they practically had enough weapons to open their own gun store, and enough bullets to wage a protracted war.

First, Melanie grabbed the Beretta PX4 and a box of 9mm bullets. She slid the Beretta into a holster and put the holster in her jacket pocket. After that, she grabbed an AR-15 and slung it over her shoulder. Beside her, Josh grabbed a Glock 19 off a shelf, then selected a Winchester rifle from the gun cabinet.

“Is it worth it?” Lizzy asked. Melanie’s best friend was lingering in the doorway. Small and thin, with blondish hair tied back in a loose ponytail, Lizzy had a round face and bright blue eyes but was prone to anxious looks.

“What do you mean, Lizzy?” Melanie asked, shoving another box of bullets into her jacket pocket. “Is it worth what?”

Lizzy’s eyes flitted from Melanie to her father and back. “Well, is it really worth dying just to protect all of this stuff? Two people already died over it, and I just wonder if it’s worth it.”

Yes, two people had died: Derrick and Hunter. Ironically, Lizzy had killed one of them, but now she was pleading to leave it all behind. It was a change that surprised Melanie. Where had it come from? What had induced the change?

“After all of the work you’ve done arranging and cataloguing the stuff in the factory, you want to abandon it?” Melanie asked.

“No, I don’t want to,” Lizzy replied, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the floor. “There’s just been so much death already over this stuff. Do we really want to hold on to the factory if it puts our lives in constant danger? Even with all of our guns, how long can we hold up against people who are tossing tear gas and grenades at us?”

Her father, Mr. Turner, walked over to a shelf and picked up a small, black .38 and a leather holster. “Lizzy, my dear, you’re getting gun-shy, I’m afraid,” he said, clipping the holster to his belt. “When did this fear take hold of you? It wasn’t there the last time we fought over the factory.”

“I don’t know when it took hold,” Lizzy said. “It’s just been building in my mind for a while, okay? I think about Mom. I think about other people. People dying over stuff. All of these people dying over stuff.”

That was it, then. Melanie could see it now. A delayed response to the death of her mother, and to the killing of Derrick Platt. Somewhere along the way, without anyone realizing it, an aversion to fighting had taken hold in Lizzy’s mind, and now it was manifesting at an unfortunate time.

“We’re not fighting for stuff, my dear,” Mr. Turner said. “We need this place—and these supplies—to survive. There’s no way we can just give it up.”

“If we let Cooper have all of this stuff, he’ll set up some kind of murderous cult,” Josh said. “Derrick’s not around to keep him in check. We can’t let him have this place.” He grabbed a plastic pocket holster for the Glock and slipped it into his pants pocket. “That’s my two cents on the matter, anyway.”

In truth, Melanie was extremely frustrated at Lizzy for even suggesting it, and she didn’t respond right away because she was struggling to find a tactful way to say what she felt. Abandoning the factory seemed like the surest way to get everyone killed, and it was also a cowardly act. They’d fought for this place and earned it by putting their lives on the line.

She was about to say it, to blurt it all out, when another figure appeared behind Lizzy and pushed his way through the door. A thin and gawky young man with messy hair and a lean face, Nathan Platt seemed strangely close to tears. When he spoke, his voice was shaking.

“She’s right,” he said. Nathan glanced at Melanie and quickly moved his gaze to his feet. “It’s not worth dying to defend a bunch of stuff. My dad wasted his whole life acquiring all of these supplies, and then he died fighting for it. He had grandiose weird ideas. He put us in this position in the first place, and we shouldn’t follow his example.”

It was ironic considering the fact that the boy was standing right beside the person who had killed his father. Indeed, Lizzy began furiously chewing on her lower lip, as if disturbed by the reminder. In the immediate aftermath of Derrick Platt’s death, Lizzy hadn’t seemed bothered by it, but over time, her act of killing seemed to have weighed on her, changed her.

“I’m just saying, we’ve risked our lives too many times already,” Lizzy said. “We barely got out of that hospital where they were draining people’s blood, and we almost got killed by our boss here in the factory. It wasn’t safe on the road. It wasn’t safe at my parents’ house. I’m just so tired of risking our lives over stuff. I don’t think it’s worth it, Mel.”

“At some point, it has to stop,” Nathan agreed. “It all has to stop. People have to stop killing each other over stuff.”

“I agree with Nathan.” This time it was Shona. She was standing behind him, barely visible over his right shoulder. “We could probably load up a few essentials, like medicine and guns, and escape out the back over the wall. If everyone carried a backpack full of stuff, we’d have enough to last a while. Let them have the rest. Maybe they’ll leave people alone after that. I don’t want any of us to die fighting over this place. It’s not worth it.”

“Maybe we should take a vote,” Lizzy said. “It seems like a lot of people agree with me.”

“If we’re taking a vote, I say no fighting,” Shona said. “Anyone else?”

It was too much. Melanie took a deep breath and let it out in a rush.

“We’re not taking a vote,” she snapped, a little too sharply. Shona and Lizzy both flinched at the volume of her voice. “Everyone just be quiet, okay? Stop telling me what you think we should do!” Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t restrain herself from raising her voice. Grenades were being tossed at the building, and these people wanted to stand around and have a debate over whether to fight or flee? It was ridiculous. “I’m only going to say this once. We are defending the factory! The decision has been made, and there’s no room for debate. That’s final. It’s not open for discussion.”

From somewhere above, she heard the distant crack of gunshots. Mark was already firing away. She even thought she heard him give a little whoop of surprise.

“Even if we were going to have this discussion, now is not the time,” Melanie added. “Do you guys understand what’s happening right now? Right now! They’ve come for us. They’ve filled the parking lot with tear gas. Trying to run now would not be any safer than staying and fighting. Where is this cowardice coming from?”

“It was so peaceful for a few days,” Lizzy said softly.

“It was, and now it’s not,” Melanie said. “Lizzy, grab a gun and let’s go. No more of this nonsense!”

Dragging her feet, head down, Lizzy crossed the room and grabbed the other Glock off a shelf. She looked chastened, possibly embarrassed, but she didn’t say anything else.

“I’ll join Mark up on the roof,” Mr. Turner said. “We have the advantage up there. I want a nice, clear shot at that guy with the red beard.”

Melanie heard another series of cracks from above, followed by a faint voice. “Well, you’d better get up there before you miss the opportunity. It sounds like Mark is already in it.”

“If you’re going up on the roof, forget about that handgun,” Josh said, grabbing a bolt-action rifle off the shelf. “Take this instead. It’s got a good scope on it. Do you know how to use a sniper rifle?”

“I’m sure I’ll do just fine,” Mr. Turner said, taking the rifle out of his hands. “Cooper’s the one that shot my wife. I owe him a bullet right between the eyes, and I mean to deliver.”

“Just keep your head down,” Josh replied. “He’s a pretty good shot too, and he’s reckless.”

“Good. I hope he’s so reckless, he stands up and makes himself a nice, big target.”

Mr. Turner set the holstered .38 back on a shelf, nodded and left the room, slipping past his daughter as he headed to the factory floor. He was moving fast, as if anxious to leave. Shona and Nathan had lingered by the door, looking at each other. Melanie saw Nathan shrug, as if to say, “What do we do now?”

“Everyone needs to be armed and ready to fight in case they breach the wall and get inside the building,” Melanie said. She snapped her fingers until Shona and Nathan looked at her. “That means you two. Shona, Nathan, grab a gun and be ready to fight.”

“Wait…what?” Nathan said. “Wouldn’t it be better if we just went back into the library room and stayed out of the way? I’ve never been in a gunfight before…well, except for being trapped in the parking lot while Dad went crazy, but won’t it be better if Shona and I hide?”

“That’s not how it works,” Melanie said. “When we’re attacked, we all have to defend ourselves. We’re in this together, and there’s no guarantee that any room inside the factory will be safe. Got it? I don’t want anyone getting cornered in an office without being able to fight back. Grab a gun.”

She looked at every face in turn, but only Josh would meet her gaze. He nodded gravely.

“I’m afraid Cooper won’t give us any other choice,” he said.

“I don’t know if I can shoot somebody,” Nathan said. “Not even Cooper.”

“You can if your life is in danger,” Melanie said. And when that didn’t seem to hit him hard enough, she added, “You can if Shona’s life is in danger.”

At this, he perked up, finally lifting his gaze from the floor. He glanced at Melanie, frowned, but nodded. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“See? We’re fighting for each other,” Melanie said. “We’re not fighting for stuff. We’re fighting for our survival, for our future, and we’ll use every means at our disposal to do so.”

3

“Shona, you heard what I said. Grab a gun. I want everyone to be armed.”

Shona came forward, reaching out somewhat reluctantly. Her fingers brushed the .38, hovered there, then finally grabbed it. “Okay, fine, Mom. Whatever you say. If we’re staying and fighting, so be it. I know when I’ve lost an argument.”

“We’re not staying and fighting,” Melanie corrected her. “We are under attack, and we’re defending ourselves. There’s a difference. I want everyone to grab a gun and plenty of ammo. Come on. Let’s go.”

Shona shoved the holster into the pocket of her sweatpants, then grabbed a box of ammo. When Nathan still lingered in the door, she beckoned him. “Come on, Nathan. We made our case. No sense standing around. Get a weapon. We’re not getting out of it.”

He dragged the heel of his shoe across the threshold and finally stepped through the door. “I’m just so sick of all the violence. Dad was always talking tough and threatening people, and I’m just sick of it. Won’t it ever stop?”

“We’ll get a reprieve when we drive these people away,” Melanie said. She was still frantic, angry, but she forced herself to reach out and pat him on the back. The kid’s feelings were understandable, even if she was struggling to sympathize with him at the moment. “If we want the violence to end, we have to end it, Nathan. That’s the way it works. Evil people have to be stopped.”

“Okay, I get it,” he said. He reached out and grabbed a shotgun, dragging it off the shelf. He started to turn away, then remembered to grab a box of shells. “I guess you’re right, even if I don’t really like it. I wish my dad never got involved with guys like Cooper. Dad became meaner and weirder and more paranoid, and then he got himself killed.”

“Once Cooper is out of the way, we should be fine for a while,” Josh said. “The general public doesn’t know what we’ve got in here, so nobody else will bother us.”

“Yeah, yeah, I said I get it,” Nathan grumbled. “Wasn’t this guy your friend? You and Cooper were running around all the time with Dad. Are you really going to shoot him?”

“Cooper? No, we were never really friends. We were sort of forced together by circumstances,” Josh replied. “I never understood what Derrick saw in the guy. In fact, he kind of ruined things, to be honest. Trust me, if he gets the chance, he’ll kill me. I know him well enough to say that. Well, I don’t intend to give him the chance.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

As Nathan glanced at Josh, Melanie saw a brief look of disgust on his face. Yes, Josh was one of Derrick’s former buddies, and perhaps Nathan didn’t feel quite as happy about his presence in the factory as others. Now, at last, they were all armed, and they stood there in the closet, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Already, they’d wasted far too much time getting to this point.

Melanie heard more shots coming from the rooftop. Soon they were joined by another, a gun that was more high-pitched, a sharper crack than the bolt-action rifle. Mr. Turner had apparently joined the fight.

If we’re lucky, those two have already driven Cooper away, she thought, but it’s unlikely. Even if he flees, he’ll probably return again. Better we take him out.

Melanie considered the weapons each person had taken. Lizzy and Shona had opted for handguns, easy weapons to lug around, also easy to leave in a pocket when the fighting started. She turned and grabbed one of the other bolt-action rifles, an old hunting gun that had belonged to Derrick. She brought it to Lizzy and thrust it at her.

“Use this instead,” she said. “It’s a high-powered rifle. Better for this kind of fight.”

Lizzy hesitated a second before taking it. Then Melanie gave her a box of bullets. Afterward, she grabbed a Weatherby rifle, a nice model with a shiny wood stock—another one of Derrick’s rifles, this one originally retrieved from a cabinet in his office closet. Indeed, her former boss had stashed weapons all over the place, and they kept finding them as they worked their way through the factory.

Melanie brought the rifle to Shona. “Use this instead of the handgun. Better aim. Remember, we’re trying to keep them away from the building.”

Shona took the rifle from her but stared at it with wide eyes. “Mom, I don’t know how to use a gun like this. This is some kind of heavy-duty rifle. The only rifle I ever fired was a .22, hardly more than a pellet gun.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” Melanie replied. “The principle is the same. Place the buttstock high up on your chest, near your shoulder, press your cheek to the side of the stock, and take aim. When you see an enemy through the rear ring sight, pull the trigger. Make sure you’re holding tightly. That’s it.”

Shona tried this, raising the rifle and pointing it at the wall. She didn’t seem entirely comfortable holding it, and Melanie helped her reposition it. Melanie had intended to run some drills with Shona to help her get more comfortable using guns, but with so much work to be done, they just hadn’t gotten around to it.

“Hold it like this, Shona,” she said. “Keep a firm hold on the forestock, or it’ll fly up when you fire. You don’t want to bash your nose.”

“I don’t think this is the right gun for me,” Shona said.

“You can handle it,” Melanie said. “Just listen to what I’m saying. We have to get comfortable with these kinds of weapons, Shona. This place offers us the best chance for survival, and we’re going to fight for it.”

“Is it going to kick?” Shona said. “What if it dislocates my shoulder?”

“It’ll kick, but if you’re holding it right, you won’t get hurt. Tighten your grip here.” She grabbed her daughter’s left hand and pressed her fingers firmly against the forestock. “There you go. That’s better. Try taking aim again.”

Shona looked through the site. Above them, more gunshots echoed across the rooftop, two rifles firing at the same time in a strange harmony. Melanie thought she heard another whoop of excitement. Maybe the fight would be over before any of the others even got involved. She could only hope.

“I think I got it,” Shona said, lining up her left eye with the site.

“Good,” Melanie said, putting an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “You’ve got this, Shona. Now, let’s go help your father and Mr. Turner. They’re up there fighting for us.”

Nathan cleared his throat loudly. “If he’s throwing grenades at the building, maybe he doesn’t intend to take it,” he said. “Maybe he’s trying to destroy it—to burn it down. What we can we do against that?”

“If he wanted to burn it down, he would have climbed the gate and set fire to it quietly,” Melanie said. “No, he tossed the grenade into the parking lot. Some shrapnel may have hit the wall, but he’s trying to provoke a fight. He wants in here. Make no mistake. He wants to fill the void left by Derrick, and he’s going to, but not in the way he thinks. Now, let’s go.”

Lizzy patted her pocket, where she’d placed a box of bullets. She’d been quietly standing there since giving up the debate, and she seemed resigned to her fate now. Melanie knew she would fight when the time came. Lizzy had put up some resistance, but she had just as much reason as her father to get revenge on Cooper.

“I wonder if there’s anything else in this closet that might give us an advantage.”

“A bunch of high-powered rifles don’t give us an advantage?” Lizzy said. “What else do we need? A cannon?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Melanie replied. “Canister shot, like in the Civil War. You fire it over the gate, and it explodes above the enemy’s head. That would end this real quick.”

“That’s gruesome,” Lizzy said. “Are we trying to turn these people into ground beef?”

“No, but it would be nice if we could deal with them all at once,” Melanie said. “We took an inventory of all of Derrick’s stuff. Josh, can you think of anything he had that was a little more powerful, something that could deal with a whole group of people. I mean, I know we don’t have grenades, but…”

“Actually, now that I think about it, there was one thing,” Josh said. “Derrick never used it, so I’m not entirely sure how effective it’ll be.”

Josh squatted down in front of the gun cabinet. The top half of the cabinet was where the guns were stored, but the bottom half appeared to be solid. However, Josh thrust his hand deep into the gun case and felt around for something.

“This bottom half is actually storage space,” he replied. “I kept meaning to test it out, but I’ve been so busy with other things that it slipped my mind.”

Josh struggled to turn the latch. Clearly, it hadn’t been opened in a while. After a few seconds, he managed to force it, and the latch turned with a clank. Slowly, he pulled the door open. He was blocking Melanie’s view, but as soon as the door was open, he gasped loudly.

“My goodness,” he said. “Would you look at that!”

“Tell me it’s an explosive,” Melanie said.

“Something far more bizarre,” he said, reaching into the lower cabinet. “But maybe just as effective at driving them away.”

4

Josh reached into the cabinet with both hands and seemed to wrestle with something for a few seconds. Melanie heard a metallic clunk, followed by the sound of a heavy object being dragged against the bottom of the gun case.

“That doesn’t sound like a gun,” she noted.

“It’s not,” Josh replied. “Heck, I’m not entirely sure what it is.”

“Do we have time for this?” Melanie asked. She heard another series of gunshots from the rooftop. Mark and Mr. Turner were keeping the enemy at bay all by themselves, and she was anxious to join in and help.

Josh finally pulled the object out of the cabinet, and it dropped onto the floor. Melanie had no idea what it was either. It was a kind of fat black plate, something like a speaker, though it was attached to a framework and had folding legs on the bottom. Wires came out of the back and attached to a small box with some buttons on it and what seemed to be a large battery pack.

At first, Melanie was tempted to tell Josh to put it back. They had guns to defend the factory. What else did they need? But she realized Derrick wouldn’t have hidden such a strange device inside the gun cabinet if it wasn’t something both useful and dangerous. She squatted down beside Josh to examine the object, as Lizzy leaned over her shoulder.

“Is it a weapon of some kind?” Lizzy asked.

“That seems likely,” Melanie replied, “but I can’t tell.” She grabbed the little control box and turned it over, and there, stuck to the frame where the wires came out, was a small white sticker with black letters. She had to lean in close to read it. “Knoxville PD property. LRAD.”

“El Rad?” Lizzy said.

“Long range…acoustic device,” Josh said. “That’s my guess. A sound weapon. Non-lethal, used for crowd control.”

“Did he steal it from the Knoxville police department?” Lizzy asked.

“Hunter probably got it for him,” Nathan said from the doorway. “It wouldn’t be the only time he borrowed something from the police department and contributed it to the cause. That guy was on the verge of being fired anyway.”

Just then, a violent boom shook the entire building. Shona uttered a little squeak of fear and backed into a corner of the supply closet, drawing her gun in close against her body. The explosion continued to echo for a few seconds, followed by more gunshots from the rooftop.

“Another grenade,” Melanie noted. She gestured at the LRAD. “Bring this. Maybe we can use it. Come on.”

She set the small control box on top of the large plate-shaped device and grabbed one edge. Josh grabbed the other, and they picked it up. Lizzy and Nathan moved aside as they carried it through the door. It was just big enough to be unwieldy as they made their way down the hall.

Melanie led them past the stairs and down the back hall. When they reached the door that led to the old workers’ smoking area outside, Josh nodded past her shoulder. She turned and saw that the door had buckled. Apparently, the most recent explosion had hit very close, and the metal door was dented inward, pushing it against the frame.

“I’ll get it,” Nathan said, slipping past them. He tried to open the door, but the knob was bent out of shape, and the edges of door were crushed against the frame. Still, he pulled a few times, finally leaning back to put his weight into it.

“It’s not going to open,” Melanie said. “We’ll go through one of the factory doors. Come on. Hurry. We’ve wasted way too much time already.”

Turning around in the hallway proved challenging. It was almost too narrow, but Melanie wanted to lead. She spun clockwise, struggling to maintain her grip on the smooth metal of the LRAD. Lizzy ducked under the device to get on the other side. Then they made their way back toward the supply closets. Shona opened the door to the factory floor, and they passed through into the vast, dim room, where the long productions lines were already partially disassembled, with scrap pieces carefully piled up on handcarts and folding tables.

On their left, a walkway led to another exterior door near the control room. Shona and Nathan dashed ahead to the door.

“Be careful,” Melanie said. “There might still be tear gas out there. Cover your mouth and nose and squint your eyes.”

Shona and Nathan both pulled the collars of their shirts up over their noses. Then he turned the door handle, and she pushed it open with her shoulder. Melanie didn’t see any obvious smoke, just the west side of the parking lot and the perimeter wall topped in barbed wire. However, as she passed through the door, she caught a faint whiff of that vinegar sharpness, and she felt a slight stinging in her eyes.

“Be ready to shoot,” she said, locking eyes with Lizzy. “They might come through the gate or try to climb the wall. Also, be ready to run if they lob another grenade on this side of the building.”

Lizzy nodded and pulled the rifle off her shoulder. She was so small, she seemed dwarfed by the gun, but she held it confidently, despite her initial reluctance. The factory door started to swing shut, but Lizzy had the idea to prop it open. There was a small metal door stopper kept just inside the building, and she kicked it into the way.

“Just in case we have to run back inside really fast,” she said to Melanie.

“Good idea,” Melanie replied.

As they lugged the LRAD down the west side of the building, heading toward the front parking lot, she heard voices coming from above her. Mark and Mr. Turner. She couldn’t tell what they were saying, but they seemed stressed out. One of them was practically screaming. What were they seeing on the other side of the wall?

Ahead, beyond the corner of the building, tear gas still lingered low in the parking lot, and she narrowed her eyes in anticipation of that now-familiar burning sensation. As she approached the corner, she heard the faint sound of vehicle engines idling beyond the wall. One of them was rough and rattling, the engine of an old vehicle in poor condition. It seemed the enemy was still gathered just beyond the gate, though she couldn’t see them.

She got more and more anxious as they approached the corner. Nathan and Shona were right up against the wall, rifles raised. Nathan was slightly in front, standing tall, his rifle pointed at the gate. Shona was on his right side, partially behind him, and she seemed to be scanning from right to left through the site of her rifle.

“Right here,” Melanie said to Josh as soon as they stepped past the corner of the building. “We’re pushing our luck being this far out. Let’s set up the LRAD and aim it toward the gate.”

“Let’s do it,” Josh agreed. “It will be interesting to see how this thing works.”

“What if the battery is dead?” Lizzy said, unfolding the legs of the LRAD and setting it on the ground.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Josh said. He flipped a small switch on the control box, and a small red light came to life.

In setting the LRAD down, Melanie and Josh almost dropped it. Lizzy hadn’t locked the legs in place yet, and the whole thing wobbled and almost crashed to the pavement. Lizzy managed to reach up and hold it steady, and then Melanie grabbed the edge. She traded a look with her friend and sighed.

“Let’s not embarrass ourselves while defending the factory,” Melanie said.

The fat plate was, as best they could tell, the acoustic source. One side had a kind of mesh covering, so Melanie assumed it was the front edge. She turned it toward the gate. Josh knelt down on the pavement with the control panel and battery pack.

“I think I can figure this out,” he said, “but the rest of you better cover your ears right now.”

“We should’ve looked for ear protection,” Melanie said. “Remind me the next time we pull this thing out of the cabinet.”

She stepped back behind the device and pressed her hands to her ears. Shona and Nathan shouldered their rifles and covered their own ears. Lizzy was last—she locked the last leg in place before shuffling backward and covering her ears as well. As Josh fiddled with the control box, another smoking tear gas canister came sailing over the gate. It landed somewhere near the front door of the factory, and thick, white smoke began billowing across the parking lot.

“Hurry,” Melanie said.

Josh gave her a thumbs-up.

“Cover your ears too,” Melanie said.

He tapped the right side of his head. “This one doesn’t work. Only have to cover the left side. I’ll be fine.” He pressed his left hand against his ear. With his right hand, he began turning a knob on the control panel.

Melanie became aware of the noise before actually hearing it. Though she was well behind the device now, she felt a vibration in the air. It seemed to settle at the base of her skull, growing more and more intense until her whole body trembled with it. Shona and Nathan backed away, and Lizzy hunkered down, trying to bury her head between her arms. Eventually, the vibration became an actual sound, a sharp and piercing wail that made her ears ache, and that was with the LRAD aimed away from them. Melanie couldn’t imagine what it was like to stand in front of the thing.

Finally, her eyes began to water from the tear gas, and she was forced to back away farther. Somewhere, beyond the sound of the LRAD, she heard many voices shouting, but she couldn’t stay any longer. The combination of the noise and the tear gas had become unbearable, so she turned and fled, following Shona and Nathan back to the factory door. Halfway there, she realized Lizzy was at her side, her face scrunched up in pain.

Then the sound ended abruptly, and Melanie assumed Josh had switched off the device. By then, she had reached the door, and she swung it open, ushering Shona and Nathan inside.

“My ears hurt,” Shona cried, “and my eyes are stinging real bad.”

“Go to the fresh-water barrel and wash your eyes right away,” Melanie said. “Both of you. Hurry.”

Lizzy came next, rushing past her with her head down. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks. Josh came last. He couldn’t carry the LRAD, but he’d taken the time to disconnect the control box, which he was carrying back with him.

“Did it work?” Melanie asked.

“No idea,” he replied loudly, as if he were still speaking over the sound. “I blasted it as long as I could stand it. I’ll have to find some ear protection before I use it again. Covering my ear with my hand wasn’t enough.”

He stepped back inside the warehouse. Melanie lingered at the door, gazing back toward the gate. Her ears were ringing, but she didn’t hear the engines. Indeed, she didn’t hear much of anything at the moment. Finally, she turned and headed inside. She didn’t like leaving the LRAD out in the open, but her eyes and throat had begun to burn like crazy. They would have to come back for it later, after the gas had dissipated some.

As she made her way back across the factory floor, intending to head down to the break room and wash her eyes, she saw movement in the control room. Shadows shifted in a beam of sunlight coming from the ceiling. Mark came first, climbing down the wall-mounted ladder, the rifle over his shoulder. He hopped off the last rung, just as Mr. Turner appeared in the opening.

“My God, what was that horrible sound?” Mark said, rubbing one of his ears. “Did that come from us?” He saw Melanie and rushed over to her, putting his arms around her.

“Yes, that was us,” she replied, hugging him back. “Derrick left us another little gift. What happened to Cooper and his people?”

“Oh, man, when the sound weapon hit them, those guys just melted,” Mark said. “They were shouting and writhing and running around. Then they all rushed back to the trucks and got the heck out of here. It worked like magic. Even the guys who’d gone around the other sides of the perimeter wall came running back to the trucks. I think it spooked them. They’re all gone.”

Mr. Turner pulled the rooftop access door shut and climbed down after them. “It was one of those crowd-control sound weapons, wasn’t it?” he asked. “Like the kind SWAT teams use during riots? That’s what I figured.”

“An LRAD,” Melanie replied. “You guys got a clear view. How many of them were there?”

“I counted at least a dozen,” Mark said, “and they’re all rough-looking guys. Some of them looked like they just came crawling deep out of the Smoky Mountains for the first time in their lives. Long filthy beards, dirty coats and jackets, grungy hats, and weird dead eyes.”

“It was an unsavory group, for sure,” Mr. Turner said, “and it was a sizeable group. Cooper has a lot of friends, I’m sorry to say, but they all fled when you turned on the LRAD, so we’re safe for now.”

“For now,” Melanie echoed.

She disconnected from Mark and headed through the building. The burning in her eyes and throat just didn’t want to go away. When she got to the break room, she found Josh, Shona, Lizzy, and Nathan all gathered around the water barrel, each of them furiously scrubbing at their eyes.

“We had that big argument about guns, and we didn’t even use them,” Shona grumbled. “All I did was point my rifle at the gate for a few seconds before running away.”

“Shona, I know you’re not an expert with guns,” Melanie said, “but in the heat of the moment, I need everyone to be ready to defend us. We’ll spend some more time getting you comfortable with guns while we have a bit of downtime, okay? It’s necessary for our survival.”

“Got it, Mom.”

“Josh, do you think they’ll come back soon?” Melanie asked. “Should we expect another imminent attack?”

He’d poured water into a cup, and he was scooping it and rubbing it into his eyes one at a time. “Cooper has a bigger group than I realized. I don’t know who all of his new cronies are, but if they’re anything like him, they’ll come back soon. Yeah, they’ll just keep coming. Cooper is persistent, and he’s nuts. They’ll try to figure out a way to deal with the LRAD, I imagine, and then they’ll be back.”

“Then we’d better ready,” Melanie said, pushing her way toward the water barrel. “We can’t let our guard down, not even for a moment.”

5

If anything good had come from the attack, it was information. At least Melanie knew now what they were really dealing with. Somehow, the factory had to be prepared to deal with tear gas and grenades. She gave her people a couple of hours to recover, but then she called a meeting. They gathered around the table in the break room, most of them still red-eyed and coughing.

Melanie grabbed a dry-erase board and propped it on the counter, and she tried to sketch a quick map of the factory. She was feeling disoriented and sick to her stomach. Her throat was scratchy, and her eyes kept watering. As she worked on the sketch, she considered calling off the meeting, giving them all the rest of the day to recover. But she didn’t know how much time they had left. Josh was certain that Cooper and his wild band of friends would come back as soon as they could find a way to deal with the sound weapon.

The LRAD was now set up in the supply closet, ready to go at a moment’s notice. They’d also found some ear protection in the form of a few shooting earmuffs. Melanie wiped fresh tears off her cheeks and finished her crude sketch of the factory, then made marks to identify the locations of the doors.

“Okay, we have to build up our defenses,” she said. “We’ll spend the afternoon on a few key tasks. I think the first one is to seal the doors, so we can’t get tear gassed inside the factory.”

“I’ll head up that task,” Josh said. “I’ll need to repair the damaged door first. I may need to hammer it back into shape.”

“Okay, good,” Melanie said. “Fixing that door is going to be a big job. If it’s too much, ask for help. It may take a few strong arms.”

Josh nodded and tipped her a little salute.

“Okay, next item,” Melanie said. “I want to leave someone on watch for the rest of the day. That means we need someone up on that rooftop keeping their eyes peeled at all times. Take some food and water up there, because it’s going to be a while. We can’t afford to let our guard down even for a second. I don’t want Cooper to be able to sneak up on us. Any volunteers?”

Mr. Turner raised his hand. Mark and Max were the only two who didn’t have red-rimmed eyes. Up on the roof, they’d been above the tear gas. That was good. It meant Mr. Turner would have clear vision to see any enemies approaching.

“Perfect,” Melanie said. “You can go ahead and climb back up there. Take something with you to make some noise. Maybe the hand-cranked siren we found in Derrick’s office closet. If you see enemies approaching, spin that handle like crazy and let us know.”

“Wouldn’t it be smarter to use the conference room as our lookout?” Mr. Turner said. “There’s a mirrored tint on the window, so they’re unlikely to see me with the sun shining.”

“That window doesn’t open,” Melanie reminded him. “You won’t be able to shoot.”

He shrugged. “Well, I’m really just there to raise the alarm. You’ll hear the siren a heck of a lot louder if I’m in the conference room. Plus, if it really comes down to it and I absolutely have to shoot someone, a bullet will go through the window easily enough.”

Melanie wasn’t entirely sure she preferred his idea, but she decided not to argue the point. “That’s fine. Post yourself in the conference room. Get some binoculars, and keep an eye on the gate.”

“Got it, Mel,” he said, giving her a big thumbs-up. He pushed back his chair and rose from the table.

Soon, she heard him hurrying down the hall toward the factory floor.

“Should I go with him?” Mark asked.

“No, I could use your help with something else,” she said. She made a few more marks on her crude map along the north and east side of the building. “We’ve got damage to the wall here and here. Shrapnel from two grenades punched a bunch of holes in the walls. The reception area is particularly bad. We need to repair the damage and reinforce the walls. I was thinking maybe we could take some of the metal from the production equipment and weld it to the outer walls, sort of like crude armor. Any of you have experience welding? We have an acetylene torch, if anyone feels comfortable using it.”

Of course, she knew her husband and daughter had no experience with welding. Neither did Lizzy, and Nathan was almost certainly too young. Melanie’s gaze passed over all of them and settled on Josh. Yes, he was a vet tech, but he seemed to have a lot of esoteric knowledge. However, he only stared back blankly.

“No one?”

“Perhaps we could figure it out if we all worked together,” Mark said.

“Maybe,” Melanie said with a sigh. “We’ll figure it out later. For now, let’s find a way to patch up the holes in the walls. Shona and Nathan, I want you two to get a bucket and pick up all of the shards of glass and metal on the floor. Make sure you’re wearing gloves. You’ll find a nice big bucket in the supply closet.”

“Got it,” Nathan said.

Together, they headed off to the hall. Dusty had been curled up in the corner, but she rose now and padded after them. As they passed through the door, Shona gave Melanie a lingering look. Melanie knew that look all too well. Her lower lip sticking out, eyebrows down. Shona was upset about something. Still, she didn’t say anything as she walked out of the room with Nathan. That little look annoyed Melanie so much that she almost snapped at her daughter.

I just gave you the easiest task, she thought. What are you glaring at me for? First, you didn’t want to pick up a gun, and now, you don’t want to clean up the shrapnel. What exactly would you like to do, Shona dear?

But she didn’t say it. At least Shona was going. As long as she did the work, and did it well, she could glare all she wanted. Shona and Nathan liked spending time together. That was an advantage. At first, that had made Melanie nervous. The idea of Derrick Platt’s son and her own daughter becoming a teen couple was so weird, she just couldn’t feel comfortable about it. Still, she was getting used to it, and at least it helped them get things done, particularly tasks that would otherwise have made Shona whine.

That left Lizzy and Mark. It struck Melanie again just how much they all looked to her for leadership. When had that happened? She’d never considered herself a natural leader, but somehow, since they’d set up residence at the factory, they’d just started waiting for her instructions. Mark was a teacher, used to motivating entire classrooms, but he’d fallen right in with the others.

When did I get put in charge of all of this? she wondered. Indeed, she couldn’t recall the moment it had happened. Somewhere along the way, she’d gotten a promotion that she hadn’t asked for or wanted. However, at the same time, it did feel strangely right. This was what she was supposed to be doing, so she just went along with it.

“Find putty. Find cement. Find caulking. Find whatever you can,” she said to them. “Let’s patch up all of those holes in the walls. We don’t want outsiders to see the damage to the wall. They’ll view it as weakness. Let’s patch it up, then we’ll worry about strengthening the walls.”

“I’m not sure we can make the entire building grenade proof,” Josh said.

Melanie had to pause, turn away, and take a deep breath. For some reason, Josh’s comment annoyed her far more than it should have. She did her best to hide this feeling, pretending to mark something on the white board.

“We’ll do the best we can,” she said, after a moment. “We have a lot of scrap metal from the production equipment in the factory, including all of those big sheets of metal that used to cover the motors. I know the metal is thin, but we can stack multiple sheets together. We’ll find a way to attach it to the walls, and that’ll be it. It’ll soak up some of the shrapnel if they start lobbing grenades at us again. It’s better than nothing.”

She turned, ready to argue, but Josh was nodding. “Sounds good to me,” he said. “We could line those panels up in a way that’ll look kind of nice. Heck, maybe just the sight of it will dissuade at least some of the attackers.”

“Do you really think so?” Melanie replied.

Josh shrugged. “Worth a try.”

“Okay, good.” Melanie sighed and gave her eyes another scrub, but they stung so badly. Even a light touch made them hurt. “Josh, I’ll leave you to work on the doors. Mark, Lizzy, let’s go see what we can find to repair the damaged walls.”

She tossed her dry-erase marker onto the counter. It bounced and rolled against the wall. As the others rose from the table, she went back to the water barrel and poured some more water into a cup. While she was washing her face again, she sensed someone moving up beside her. Mark had approached, and he put his arm around her.

“You’re doing a great job,” he said. “Don’t take on too much. We’re all in this together.”

Either she hadn’t hidden her emotions as well as she thought, or Mark just knew her too well. Josh and Lizzy were already headed out of the room, so she took a moment to hug her husband and lay her head against his shoulder. She needed the comfort, even though it only took just the sharpest edge off her frustration.

“If I never get tear gassed again in my entire life, it will be too soon,” she said. “Mark, I just want to be rid of these guys. Cooper and his men, I want them gone. I don’t want them to keep threatening us.”

“The next time they come, we’ll make sure it’s the last,” he said. “And once Cooper and his crew are out of the way, we can finally relax. It’s almost over. Just hang in there.”

“I’m trying,” she said. “I really am.”

He hugged her tightly and kissed the top of her head.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get to work. We’re going to turn this factory into a fortress.”

6

Melanie, Lizzy, and Mark searched through their supplies for anything that would quickly patch the grenade holes in the factory’s outer wall. Out of their many supplies, the easiest solution for quickly filling the holes seemed to be caulk, so Melanie grabbed a few tubes, along with a few caulking guns, and passed them to Lizzy and Mark. Then they went to the reception area, where shrapnel damage was the most severe. Indeed, as she loaded the tube into the gun, Melanie noted the small, irregular beams of sunlight shining through at least three dozen small holes spread across the front wall.

Melanie began working on the area around the front door, where some of the biggest shrapnel holes were located. The door had taken the brunt of the impact, but it was thick metal, so it had handled the explosion better than the insulated aluminum walls. She worked on the wall around the doorframe, but as she went to work, she found small pieces of shrapnel embedded in the wall. It bothered her enough that she grabbed a pair of pliers and worked the pieces of metal out of the wall.

“I can’t believe they had grenades,” Lizzy said. She was working on the wall behind the old reception desk, filling the uneven little holes with surgical precision. “Patching all of these little holes seems like a waste of time if they can just lob a few more over the wall.”

“That’s what the lookout is for,” Melanie replied. She was working the tip of the caulking gun into a particularly large hole. “We won’t give them a chance. Next time we see them, we take action before they’re even in position. At least…that’s the idea.”

“If we had the time and resources, we could build some guard towers at the corners of the perimeter wall,” Mark said. He was smoothing the caulking he’d spread in a long, crooked shrapnel hole.

“Maybe we will,” Melanie said. Indeed, as he said it, she began to envision what it would look like. Maybe they did indeed have the resources for such a thing. “I really don’t think Cooper wants to destroy the building. He wants the stuff inside, so that’s to our advantage. They’re not going to burn it to the ground or blow it up.”

“Not intentionally,” Lizzy said. “It could happen by accident if they start a fire.”

Melanie couldn’t argue with that. Indeed, Cooper seemed rather reckless, so anything was possible.

As she worked, she heard some movement in the next room, hushed voices, someone stomping around. Then Shona and Nathan appeared, each lugging metal buckets. When Melanie glanced at them, she saw immediately that some tension had passed between them, and Shona had the ugliest scowl on her face. She avoided meeting Melanie’s gaze as she crossed the room and squatted down in a corner with her bucket.

“Be careful not to cut yourselves on any sharp pieces,” Melanie said.

“Some of the shrapnel pieces are like tiny razor blades,” Mark added.

Nathan started to take a position near Shona, then he seemed to reconsider and moved a few feet away. Shrapnel comprised of tiny pieces of the wall, door, and grenade were scattered all across the floor and even embedded in the interior wall and furniture. Fortunately, Shona and Nathan were both wearing leather gloves.

“I’ll be careful,” Nathan said, as he began picking up tiny, twisted pieces and dropping them into his bucket.

Shona said nothing. Melanie decided to ignore it for the time being. If Shona wanted to sulk, she could sulk. There was important work at hand.

Anyway, I might snap at her if I try to deal with it now, she thought.

As she returned to her work, she noticed Mark giving her a questioning look, as if to say, “Do you want me to deal with it?” Melanie shook her head and motioned toward the wall, and he resumed working.

After a few minutes of working, patching endless tiny holes, she heard Nathan and Shona whispering, and she dared another glance over her shoulder. They were close together again, slowly duck-walking across the room as they picked up the endless tiny pieces. As they did, they seemed to be talking intensely about something. Actually, Shona seemed to be complaining, her eyes full of fire, while Nathan tried to calm her down. Finally, Melanie caught a snatch of what her daughter said.

“…and we’re relegated to picking up garbage, if that tells you anything…”

It was the final straw, but Melanie fought the urge to respond immediately. Instead, she continued to work as if she hadn’t heard it, waiting for her initial burst of anger to pass. She’d been through so much that day, and her nerves were already frayed, but it wouldn’t resolve the situation to dump it all on Shona. After a minute had passed, Melanie quietly walked over to the reception desk and set her caulking gun down.

“Shona, I’d like to talk to you for a minute,” she said.

She heard Shona give a little exasperated sigh, and when she turned around, Melanie discovered that everyone in the room was staring at her. Even Shona had dared to look up, gazing at her mother from behind her hair. Melanie knew a confrontation in front of all of these people wouldn’t work, so she beckoned her daughter and started across the room.

“Come on,” she said. “We’ll talk privately.”

She expected some kind of resistance. Maybe Shona would outright refuse. However, she only gave a single disgruntled sound and rose, stepping past Nathan to follow her mother out of the room. Melanie led her through the doorway to the break room and then toward the hallway.

“Where are we going?” Shona said, speaking softly.

“It’s better if we talk privately,” Melanie replied.

“I was working, wasn’t I?” Shona said. “Why am I in trouble?”

Melanie stopped outside of Stanley Lipton’s old office, a room that had been converted into a bedroom. She opened the door and ushered Shona inside. Two cots had been pushed together to serve as a bed for Melanie and Mark. The desk had been moved to another office, replaced by some shelving that contained their various clothes and personal items.

“You’re not in trouble,” Melanie said, standing beside the open doorway. “We’re just going to talk, and I think it’s long past due.”

Shona hesitated in the hallway, her head down. Finally, arms crossed over her belly, she stepped through the door. As soon as she was inside, Melanie followed her and pushed the door shut. It slammed a little harder than she intended.

Shona jumped. “It sure sounds like I’m in trouble,” she muttered, walking into a corner and dropping onto a small, padded stool. “I don’t need to be yelled at, Mom. It’s been a bad day for everyone.”

Melanie initially remained standing, but then she took a seat on one of the cots. Better not to tower over her daughter. She was really fighting an urge to yell. They had a lot of work to do, and here she was dealing with some unnecessary nonsense.

“Okay, level with me,” Melanie said. “What’s going on with you? Why are you stomping around here and glaring at everyone?”

“I’m not stomping around,” Shona replied. She bent forward and rested her forearms on her thighs. “Nothing’s wrong. Can I go back to work, please?”

Melanie wanted to respond sharply, but she decided against it. Instead, she just quietly waited, letting the awkward silence stretch out for seconds, then almost a full minute. Shona finally sat up, smacked her own knees, and huffed loudly.

“Okay, fine,” she said, though she still wouldn’t look at her mother. “You want to know the truth, Mom? I’m upset because you’ve got us basically collecting trash off the ground. It’s like you think Nathan and I are incompetent or something. We’re being treated like children, while everyone else is doing real work.”

“That’s all it is?” Melanie said. Honestly, she was surprised there wasn’t more to it, and she wondered whether or not she should try to dig deeper. But a flash of anger on Shona’s face stopped her. “Well, Shona, why do you think I assigned this task to you and Nathan?”

“Because we’re the youngest, I guess,” Shona said. “Because picking up trash is all you think we’re good for. We didn’t want to grab our guns earlier, so now you think we’re not good for anything but menial tasks.”

“It’s not trash,” Melanie said. “Actually, I have a very good plan for all of those sharp little bits and pieces, which is why I’m having you gather them up in buckets. Once we have enough, we’re going to scatter them on the roads outside the perimeter wall. In medieval times, they used to scatter sharp little spikes on the roads called caltrops that were designed to stop horses from advancing. Well, all of this sharp metal is going to act like caltrops the next time Cooper and his men—or anyone, really—try to drive up to the gate. If we’re lucky, we’ll get a few flat tires out of it.”

She now had Shona’s full attention, and the resentment seemed to have melted right out of her face.

“Maybe I should have made it clear when I told you to grab the buckets,” Mel said. “I’m inside my own head so much, I sometimes forget to share information.”

Shona sighed and bowed her head. “Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t make assumptions. Next time, I’ll ask why.”

“You could have,” Melanie said, “but look, I might ask you to collect trash again in the future without any real explanation, and if I do, I really need you to do it. I’m trying to defend this family, okay? We’ve got men who want to drive us out of our home, possibly kill us, and I’m doing everything I can think of to prevent that. So, if I ask you to do something, I really need you to get it done without grumbling and complaining, no matter how trivial it seems to you and Nathan. Do you understand?”

Shona hesitated a second before nodding sheepishly. “Yeah, I got it, Mom. Sorry. The whole day was upsetting, and I guess I let it get to me.”

Melanie rose from the cot and went to her daughter. As Shona rose, Melanie pulled her daughter into an embrace. “Listen, if I didn’t think you were ready to be treated like an adult, I never would have given you and Nathan those guns to help defend the factory. Don’t you get it?”

“I get it,” Shona said. “I’m sorry. I’m just…everything is really stressful, and I guess I’ve been overreacting.”

“We’re all on edge,” Melanie said, “but we still have to work together.” She kissed her daughter on the head. “Now, are you ready to get back to work?”

“I’m ready,” Shona said.

“Okay, good. Let’s go rejoin the others.”

7

To her credit, when Shona went back to work, she brought renewed enthusiasm, putting Nathan to shame as she resumed filling up her bucket. Mark gave Melanie a questioning look, but she signaled that all was well.

Melanie picked up her caulking gun and went back to it. By then, Shona was already working hard, meticulously picked up every little shard. Nathan whispered a question to her at one point, which Melanie didn’t quite catch.

“I’m fine,” Shona replied, and she sounded like she meant it. “Don’t worry about it.”

Well, I guess that was a parenting win, Melanie thought.

She scarcely had time to relish it before the rising cry of the alarm echoed down the hall. They all knew what that meant, and everyone in the room reacted. Nathan and Shona hopped up, their buckets left at their feet.

“That didn’t take long,” Melanie replied.

“Is that Max?” Mark said. “He’s already spotted someone beyond the wall. I guess Cooper didn’t want to give us time to make repairs. I’ll go to the conference room.”

“No, I’ll do it,” Melanie replied. “You can keep the troops motivated down here.”

He gave her a little salute, and she hugged him in passing. They often saluted her these days. Melanie wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.

Lizzy had pressed her ear to the factory’s front door. “I don’t hear the sound of Derrick’s truck out there,” she said. “It was pretty loud before.”

“Maybe they’ve come in another vehicle,” Melanie said, “or maybe it’s someone else. Be ready to retreat deeper into the building. If you hear anything hit the exterior wall, run!”

And with that, she left them and headed out of the room and down the hall. Max continued blaring the alarm as she ran to the bottom of the stairs. When she reached the conference room, she found him standing at the big picture window, binoculars in one hand, his other hand spinning the handle of the old, World War II–era, hand-cranked siren. When he realized she was there, he released the handle and let the siren wind down.

“Is it Cooper?” Melanie asked. “Is he back already?”

“I don’t think so,” Mr. Turner said. “I don’t know who these people are. Maybe just some beggars looking for a handout, or maybe another band of maniacs. Take a look.”

He was standing behind one of the curtains, as if to hide himself. As Melanie approached, he thrust the binoculars at her. Beyond the window, she saw the high concrete wall topped in barbed wire, the lower gate, and the road beyond. In the far distance, the interstate stood like the memory of another world, its lanes littered with dead vehicles.

However, her gaze was drawn to the access road just beyond the gate. A small group of people were on foot, walking along the access road and headed toward the factory. Melanie raised the binoculars. Five people, all adults, they looked like refugees from some poverty-stricken land. Their clothing might have looked nice at one point. Two men wore button-up shirts and khaki pants. Another woman wore a professional skirt and jacket combo. The woman in the lead wore what looked like a one-piece professional uniform of some kind—beige with long sleeves and a stiff collar. All of their clothing now looked dirty and worn, as if they’d been sleeping on the ground.

“I don’t think these people have anything to do with Cooper,” she said. “They look pretty desperate.”

A few of them were lugging backpacks. One had what appeared to be a roll of blankets strapped to his back. All of them looked bedraggled and tired, and on the verge of collapse. However, as they approached the gate, Melanie didn’t see any evidence of weapons. If they were armed, they weren’t carrying them openly.

Once they were close to the gate, they stopped. The woman in front began waving her arms over her head. A man behind her, a middle-aged gentleman with thin hair and what might have once been a nice blue dress shirt, produced a white handkerchief from a shirt pocket and began waving it back and forth.

“I think they want us to let them in,” Mr. Turner said. “Maybe it’s a new approach by Cooper. Sort of a Trojan horse. You think that’s possible?”

She might have assumed so and ignored the people if not for the looks in their eyes. This deep, soul-scouring weariness couldn’t be faked. What had these poor souls been through? Melanie sighed and lowered the binoculars.

“Looks can be deceiving,” she noted. “You never know what’s hiding behind a pair of haunted eyes.”

“Why do you say that?” Mr. Turner replied. “What are you thinking?”

She watched the strangers for another minute or so, as they continued to wave their hands, handkerchiefs, cloths of various kinds. They were persistent, she had to give them that.

“I think I’ll go down there and see what they want,” she said.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She handed him the binoculars. “Take the sniper rifle and go up on the roof. Just in case. We’re not at the point where we’re going to shoot unarmed people before at least asking a few questions first, but you never know what might happen.”

“But why go speak to them? They could be anyone. Why not ignore them until they go away?”

It was a fair question. In truth, Melanie felt sorry for them. Such a miserable-looking crew. What had they been through? No, she had to at least listen to them before she assumed the worst. At the same time, she wasn’t driven merely by sympathy. Dealing with these people as quickly as possible, in a way that would minimize further trouble, seemed like the safest course of action.

“I’ll figure out what they’re up to,” she said. “Then I’ll know what to do with them.”

And with that, she left the conference room, rushed back down the stairs, and headed to the reception area, where the others had continued to work. They’d left some of the other guns on the nearby table, and she grabbed the .38 pistol and holster in passing, shoving it into her jacket pocket.

“What’s going on?” Mark said. “Are we under attack again?”

“I don’t think so,” Melanie replied, opening the front door. As soon as she did, she heard the plaintive voices of the strangers beyond the gate. “Everyone stay here. Let me handle this. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait. Are you going out there?” Lizzy said.

“Stay here, please. I just want to talk to these people.” She glanced at Lizzy, at Mark. “I think it’s safe. If it’s not, your dad has me covered.” Even so, she patted the gun in her pocket as she stepped through the door.

As she crossed the parking lot, she heard the hoarse, desperate voices of the strangers.

“Please! Someone! Anyone!”

“We just want to talk to you!”

“We’re unarmed!”

Who are these people? Melanie wondered. How do they know about us?

As she drew near the gate, she heard footsteps behind her. Glancing back, she saw that Mark, Lizzy, Shona, and Nathan had followed her. Each of them was now armed, but she signaled for them to keep their guns down. The front gate had a small opening on one end that allowed access to the large lock on the latch. A pair of wide, haunted eyes were peering through the opening.

“Please, ma’am, we’re not here to cause trouble,” the woman said.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Melanie replied. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“I’m Rita,” the woman said. She had short, unkempt black hair. Her voice was coarse and cracking, and her eyes were red. “We’re here to request sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary,” one of the men behind her cried.

“Sanctuary is for churches,” Melanie said. “What do you want?”

“We’re desperate,” Rita said, her fingers gripping the edges of the hole, as if she thought she could force her way through. “There’s no food out here. All of the gangs have hoarded it, and the government is close to useless. People are starving, even skilled people, because there’s nowhere to go. It looks safe in there. If you’ll let us in, we’ll earn our keep. I swear! We’re hard workers. Let us prove it.”

Melanie turned to Mark and Lizzy, but, as usual, they were watching her carefully, waiting for her to respond first. Even her husband now waited for her to make decisions. She was tempted to send the strangers packing right then and there. Why should she share anything with them? Why should she share anything that belonged to her family with these outsiders?

Something in the gazes of her family and friends kept her from doing this.

“Okay, you’ve made your case,” she said, turning back to the gate. “How would you earn your keep? What useful skills do you possess?”

“Well,” Rita replied. “Three of these people were program managers from a consulting firm. I’m sure they can help with…you know, coordinating things.”

Melanie didn’t really know what a program manager did, but her immediate reaction was negative. People from a management background would want to take control of things, wouldn’t they? Their management skills would only complicate decision-making. No, she didn’t like that at all.

“We don’t really need any program managers,” she replied. “Any other skills?”

“I’m a metalworker,” Rita said. “Or, at least, I was. The factory caught fire from some kind of electrical surge on that day. I think it had something to do with the Northern Lights, but I’m not sure. Brian also worked in a factory, a machine shop. He was heading home from a fishing trip when everything went bad. He’s been stuck out here for weeks. We were all stranded. That’s how we met.”

“You’re a metalworker,” Melanie noted.

“Yes, ma’am. And so is Brian.”

“Something we could definitely use,” Mark muttered.

Indeed, strengthening the outer wall of the factory was a priority. Melanie had come up with a basic plan—welding metal panels to the wall—but not a good way to do it. Metalworkers would certainly be useful.

“Are the five of you related?” Melanie asked Rita. “Are you family?”

“No, we were strangers until a few weeks ago,” she replied. “We just sort of fell together by circumstance. It’s bad out here.”

“She’s a factory worker,” Lizzy said, coming up beside Melanie. “Just like us.”

Melanie held a finger to her lips. Yes, she had a soft spot for factory workers, as well, but letting strangers through the gate bothered her. What if they took some and not others? She glanced at her husband again, and he shrugged at her.

He trusts my judgment, she realized. He’ll go along with whatever I decide.

She turned back and gazed at the factory rooftop. It took a moment to spot the small figure crouched behind the air-conditioning unit. Mr. Turner was in place. What would he think about Melanie letting a couple of strangers through the gate? For that matter, what would Josh think?

They’ll probably trust your judgment as well, she thought. But do you trust your judgment? That’s the real question, Mel.

“We do need metalworkers at the moment,” Melanie said, finally, turning back to Rita. Indeed, without repairs, they wouldn’t hold the factory long, and as she considered the possibilities of what real metalworkers might achieve on their behalf, her resistance finally crumbled. “We have an acetylene torch for welding. Can either of you use it?”

“Of course,” Rita said. “Brian and I are both certified welders. Give me a chance to prove myself. If I’m not as good as my word, you can toss me right out again.”

Melanie sighed and reached for the gate latch. “Okay, the metalworkers can stay. Rita and Brian. The rest of you, the corporate guys, will have to find somewhere else. I’m sorry. Resources are limited. We can’t take in just anyone, and program managers are way down the list these days.”

And with that, she unlocked the gate and slid the latch. The squeal of metal was so loud that she shuddered.

8

The corporate guys didn’t put up a fight, and Melanie felt a twinge of guilt as she watched them shuffle away, headed back down the access road in their filthy suits and wild hair. Indeed, they said nothing at all, just wandering off like defeated men. She could see now the reason for the dress shirts. Under all of that grime and road dirt was evidence of their former life in the business world.

The two that remained, Rita and Brian, stood their ground. They didn’t rush the gate or try to force their way through, even as Melanie swung it open. Then again, Lizzy and Mark were standing on either side of her brandishing their guns.

Well, they look like metalworkers, at least, Melanie thought. Let’s hope I’m not making a mistake here.

Rita wasn’t particularly tall, but she was in good shape, stocky and muscular, and her hands were rough and callused. Her face was tanned, deeply lined, with deep-set eyes and generous untrimmed eyebrows.

The metalworker named Brian wore a cheap short-sleeve t-shirt with a pattern straight out of the ’50s: thick alternating vertical stripes of black, maroon, and white. Like Rita, he was well-muscled, and he had rough hands with short, blunt fingers. He had at least a few weeks’ growth of whiskers on his cheeks and chin, a prominent nose, and a thick neck.

“Turn out your pockets,” Melanie said. “I need to know you’re not armed. I need to see it. We can’t take any chances.”

“I get it,” Rita replied. “No problem there.” She dug into her uniform pocket and pulled the inside out. A few coins and a set of car keys fell to the ground at her feet. “Not much to my name. Not anymore, as you can see. Keys to a car that’s rotting in a parking lot.”

She also had a small satchel over her shoulder. She slipped it off, pulled open the single pocket and held it open, angling it so Melanie could see inside. Melanie saw a couple pairs of panties, a bra, a t-shirt, and a pair of leather gloves. Just to be sure, she reached inside and delicately moved things around. No weapons.

“Okay, come on in,” she said, waving Rita through the open gate.

As Rita entered the factory parking lot, Brian turned out the pockets of his pants, producing a few crumpled bills and a tiny pocketknife. Melanie took the pocketknife from him, which he surrendered with just a bit of hesitancy. He had no backpack of any kind. The poor guy seemed to own little more than the clothes on his back.

“Had more stuff in the beginning,” he said. He had a deep, low voice—a smoker’s voice. “Thieves made off with my backpack a few nights ago.” He shrugged. “I guess I’m lucky they didn’t make off with my life.”

Melanie waved him through the open gate. “Well, we don’t have any thieves here, and we don’t allow any thieves. Got it?”

“Absolutely,” Brian replied, bowing his head in her direction. “You won’t have any trouble from me, I promise.”

As soon as they were through, Melanie swung the gate shut, latched it, and set the lock.

“Well, you guys have got the right idea,” Rita said, gazing toward the factory building. “Holing up inside a snack cake factory, that’s the thing to do.”

Melanie moved up beside her. “Now, listen,” she said. “I brought you here against my better judgment because we need your help. Please don’t give me a reason to regret it.”

Rita gave her a double thumbs-up. “Give us a task, and we’ll prove ourselves. Right away. Put us to work. You won’t regret it, I swear to God. We fully intend to earn our keep.”

I sure hope you mean it, Melanie thought.

* * *

It seemed wise to put them to work before they settled in, so Melanie assigned Rita and Brian to help with the repairs on the back door and surrounding wall. This part of the building had taken more damage than the front wall, and Josh hadn’t made much progress in fixing it. As part of the repair work, Melanie spent some time gathering up a bunch of scrap metal, mostly the metal coverings from the shells of the production machinery, and brought the welding torch and other tools.

Once all of the tools and scrap had been piled on a handcart, Melanie pushed it to the back door. She found Rita and Brian waiting patiently at the end of the back hall, with Josh lingering nearby.

“I should use the torch,” Rita said. “Don’t you think, Brian? I’m pretty sure I have more experience than you.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” he replied, “but it’s not a competition. Go for it.”

Rita seemed the more strong-willed of the two, as she approached the handcart and began picking over everything that Melanie had brought. Brian waited patiently. Indeed, he seemed quite calm, somewhat sad.

“Results are all that matter,” he added. “We need to cover the damaged exterior walls, reinforce the beams, and try to hammer the door back into shape.”

“I got it. I got it,” Rita said, picking up the welder, as if testing its weight. “Just follow my lead. We’ll have it done right away.” She set the welder back down and tipped a little salute to Melanie. “You won’t regret this. I swear. Leave everything to me.”

“Josh here is going to oversee your work,” Melanie said. “Please do as he says.”

Rita glanced at him, biting her lip. “Is he a metalworker too?” She sounded dubious. Indeed, Josh entirely lacked the grubbiness, callused hands, and musculature of Rita and Brian.

“No, but he’s in charge,” Melanie said.

“Well, but shouldn’t someone—”

“We’ll do as he says,” Brian said, nodding his head in Josh’s direction. “He’s the supervisor on this job. That’s fine with me.”

“Good,” Melanie said.

Josh, for his part, seemed to have accepted this new situation with little trouble. At the moment, he was tapping a finger against his lips and staring at the handcart, as if considering their best course of action. Maybe he was relieved to have help. Melanie just couldn’t tell.

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it,” Melanie said. “Josh, are you good with this?”

“I’ve got this,” Josh said. “We’ll get the work done. No problem.”

“I’ll make sure to check on you all periodically,” Melanie said, glancing pointedly at Rita, then at Josh.

As she looked at them, Melanie considered these two strangers. They really needed a bath and a change of clothes, and she was sure they needed something to eat, but they were going to earn their keep first.

Too late now. Anyway, they needed the help. She forced herself to turn and walk away. Mark and the others were already back at work in the reception area, and Melanie headed that way. As she rounded the corner, she saw Mr. Turner coming down the stairs from the conference room. He had the rifle over his shoulder, the binoculars around this neck. He also had a scowl on his face, and he pushed his thin gray hair back from his deeply lined forehead as he stepped into the downstairs hall.

“Are these outsiders going to be a problem?” he asked.

The question annoyed her, mostly because it seemed like an accusation. “Max, why don’t you go and help Josh keep an eye on things. In fact, why don’t you let him know I asked you to take charge. He seemed a little in over his head. I expect the newcomers to work hard, just like they promised to do.”

“You bet,” he said. “I have no problem keeping an eye on these people. They need to know we won’t put up with any foolishness.”

“They’re working on the back door,” Melanie said.

“Got it.”

And with that, he gently pushed past her and headed to the back hall. Between Mr. Turner and Josh, she figured they could work it out. Heck, maybe the four of them would all work well together. Indeed, as she headed back across the building, she even heard some laughter coming from the back hall. Rita said something that made Josh and Brian laugh. Then Josh said something that made Rita laugh. It was refreshing, if a little disconcerting, to hear.

Maybe they’ll add a little fresh air to this place, she thought. We’ve all been so stressed out and cranky with each other.

Yet she only made it as far as the break room before she heard Mr. Turner yelling. At first, she thought maybe he was just being boisterous, but then she heard Rita snapping back at him. Melanie almost ignored it. Almost. Indeed, she was just approaching the doorway into the reception room, where Mark, Lizzy, Shona, and Nathan were all working hard, but she caught herself. Mr. Turner was yelling again.

Better nip this in the bud, Melanie thought.

She turned and headed back the way she’d come. It sounded like Mr. Turner and Rita were getting into it. Maybe the laughter had actually been some kind of tense exchange. Seething, Melanie stomped past the stairs and turned the corner. She had to bite back her initial response, because she wanted to shout at everyone.

She found Rita and Mr. Turner standing on either side of the handcart, arguing but speaking over each other. Brian was holding the dented door open, while Josh watched the argument with a weary look on his face.

“What’s the problem here?” Melanie snapped. “I leave you people alone for one minute, and you go from laughing to yelling at each other before I can walk down the hall.”

Rita ducked her head, like a kid who’d just gotten in trouble, and stepped back. Mr. Turner gave her a withering look then turned to Melanie. Rita started to say something, but he spoke right over her.

“This woman here is already fighting with me about how to conduct the repairs,” Mr. Turner said. “I told her, we need to brace the walls first, then we can cover them with the panels.”

“Brace the walls on the inside after we cover the outside,” Rita said. “That makes more sense to me.” She turned to Melanie with her hands held up in a gesture of pleading. “Look, I know we’re the new people here, but I am a metalworker, after all. This guy is, like, a lawyer or something, from the look of him. No offense, but shouldn’t I be making these decisions?”

“A lawyer or something?” Mr. Turner replied, baring his teeth. “For your information, my daughter here asked me to take charge, and who are you, after all?”

“I’m someone who was hired to do this job,” Rita replied. Clearly, she wasn’t going to back down, even knowing the relationship between Mr. Turner and Melanie. “Please, let me do my job. My future well-being is riding on the outcome.”

“Letting you do your job doesn’t mean putting you in charge,” Mr. Turner said. He tried to step toward her, as if to intimidate her, but he bumped into the handcart. “You can’t just come in here and take over. We have a chain of command.”

“Okay, but the thing is, I know more than you,” Rita replied, sharply. “If you hire me to do a job, you should at least trust my judgment. Otherwise, do the work yourself, and good luck figuring out how to use an acetylene torch with no training.”

“All of this arguing seems unnecessary,” Brian said suddenly. Though he spoke softly, something in his voice seemed to defuse the situation slightly. “We have the same objective here, don’t we? Strengthen the building against further attack? Let’s try to get along.” Indeed, his deep voice seemed quite calm, and he had a gentle way of speaking. “We’ll be far more productive if we act as a team. It’s not a competition.”

Melanie beckoned Brian and Rita with a little flick of her hands. They came toward her, and she led them around the corner and into the alcove where the supply closets were located. She felt the tension in her shoulders, in her back, the base of her skull. A tightness that made her want to lash out at people. She fought it for a moment before speaking.

“Okay, look, you can’t talk to Mr. Turner that way,” Melanie said, staring pointedly at Rita. “I asked him to take charge of the project, so if there’s a disagreement, make your point and then come to me. Everyone here is on edge, okay? I’m sure you two are as well. We can’t start butting heads or vying for control. Otherwise, you’ll have to leave.”

Brian nodded vigorously at everything Melanie said, but Rita just scowled, working her lips from side to side, as if she had a bad taste in her mouth.

“But I’m the expert on this job,” she said.

“Rita, you’re an expert, but you’re not the boss,” Brian said, in that deep, soothing way of his. “You wouldn’t talk back to the shift supervisor at work like this, would you?”

This seemed to get through to her, and the scowl left her face. “No, of course not. It’s just frustrating…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Brian said. “We’re guests here, and we have to prove ourselves. We’re not in charge. These people are. This woman here is in charge.”

“Melanie. My name is Melanie.”

“Of course. Melanie. Got it.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” Rita sighed and shrugged. “Okay, Brian, you got me. I won’t be a problem.” And then to Melanie, she said, “I’ll do what I’m told, even if I don’t agree with it. This is your factory anyway, not mine. Please, let me go back to work.”

“Good,” Melanie said, waving Rita past her. “Thanks for making this easy on me.”

Rita and Brian returned to work quietly, as Melanie lingered in the alcove. Brian was the key, clearly. He’d managed to change Rita’s attitude with just a few easy words. Melanie watched them go, feeling conflicted. Brian seemed like a reasonable guy, and he clearly had a strong influence over Rita. Would that dynamic become a pain in the butt? Maybe. Melanie didn’t like the idea of Brian constantly stepping in to translate her leadership decisions in a way that would make Rita accept them.

Talk to Brian alone, she told herself. After the work is done. Make sure he knows his place.

Still, the thought of having to deal with another problem, however small, made her feel inordinately tired. Was it worth it?

Yes, if they can get the work done, she decided. If it makes us safer from Cooper, then it’s worth the additional headache.

9

Melanie was taking a break on the factory floor when she heard that deep voice again. She’d come in there to make a list of what remained to be done for dismantling the production equipment. There was quite a bit, too much to wrap her head around at the moment. However, she’d wound up sitting on a chair on the production line and just resting, feeling overwhelmed. So much to be done, and the next attack was constantly looming over everything.

“Pardon me for interrupting.”

She turned to see Brian stepping through the double doors at the top of ramp. He was sweating, and the stink preceded him like a rolling fog. His hands were greasy from work.

“Oh, yeah, I’m working hard here,” Melanie said sarcastically. “You caught me. What’s up? Is everyone getting along?”

“It’s better now,” Brian said, descending the ramp. “Rita and Max aren’t fighting. She does what she’s told, for the most part, with only a little complaining from time to time. We got the doorframe back into shape, and the others are patching up some serious structural damage to the other wall.”

As he approached, the man she’d only just met, Melanie felt her hand go to her jacket pocket, almost as if it had a mind of its own. Her fingers brushed the cold plastic of the pocket holster before she caught herself. Maybe trusting these people so quickly had been foolish. Then again, Brian didn’t have any darkness in his eyes—weariness, yes, he had that in spades, but not darkness.

“Did you need my help with something?” Melanie asked.

“Well, yours or someone else’s,” he replied. He reached the end of the production line and came to a stop. “I could use one more person to help me hammer the door back into shape. I figured you’d be the one to decide who it should be.”

Break’s over, I guess, Melanie thought, as she pushed herself to her feet.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “The others are busy on other projects.”

However, instead of heading off, Melanie lingered for a second. Better to allay her concerns now, it seemed, than continue to deal with these strangers. Brian started to turn away, then noticed and waited.

“Brian, tell me what it’s been like out there in the world,” Melanie said. “We’ve been living inside this factory for more than two weeks. None of us have been outside the gate, and we have no contact with anyone else. It’s not like we can call out, so the state of things has become a bit of a mystery.”

Brian seemed to weigh her question for a moment, eyes narrowed and scanning some invisible place above her. Then he swiped his hands together, as if brushing off a bad memory, and said, “It’s amazing to me how quickly everything fell apart out there. Once people realized the power wasn’t coming back on, most of them just gave up playing that little game called ‘civilization’ and started fending for themselves. Rampant looting, neighborhood gangs fighting over turf, thieves and murderers everywhere you turn—it’s out of control. I’ve…” He took a deep breath. “I’ve seen some horrible things.”

When he said it, a series of images from Melanie’s own recent memory flashed through her mind. Her adoptive mother lying in a pool of blood on a kitchen floor. Derrick Platt dying beside the production line that had once made snack cakes. The snap-snap-snap of bullets hitting a flimsy coffee table—her only cover. Sudden violence at a traffic stop on the way into Knoxville, police dropping one by one in quick succession. Yes, she’d seen plenty of awful things before shutting the factory gate, and the residue of those memories still clung to her.

“The roads are the worst, for some reason,” Brian added. “The worst people lurk on the roads. I think they started out by picking through all of the dead vehicles, but they get more savage and subhuman with every passing day. I had some serious childhood flashbacks, but…” As if he’d said something unintentional, he shook his head and swiped a hand in the air. “Enough about that. It’s just bad out there. That’s all.”

Childhood flashbacks. Yes, Melanie understood that all too well. Indeed, those memories came to her as readily as the more recent ones. She could still feel and smell the musty darkness of the closet at the end of the hallway, her own pleading voice muffled as the hanging coats crowded in around her. Other people might have shrugged off Brian’s comment, but Melanie felt the deep meaning behind those few words.

“I understand childhood flashbacks,” she said. “More than you know.”

His wandering eyes came down and rested on her, full of understanding. Yes, he read as much in her few words as she had in his. Melanie felt a strange kinship then, as if they were long lost relatives from the same broken family.

“Well, in a weird way, I guess it gives us an advantage,” he said. “It’s sad how much childhood trauma prepared people like us for the end of civilization.”

“It’s not sad,” Melanie replied with a shrug. “It just is. There’s a lot of darkness in the world. At least we’re able to use what we already know to survive.”

At this, he smiled, though it was brief. “Well, in my case, it was my bio-parents. Things were really bad until I finally got taken away when I was twelve. My adoptive parents were better.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but then he cocked his head to one said and finished with, “I’ll leave it at that. Normally, I wouldn’t dump any of this on someone I just met, but I think in your case it’s different.”

“Sounds like I’ve got a very similar story,” Melanie said. “That man out there, Max Turner, the guy Rita was arguing with, he’s my adoptive father. He rescued me from a very bad situation.”

“I get it,” Brian said. “Well, I’ll make sure there’s no more trouble from Rita. She listens to me most of the time. I earned her respect during our time on the road. Anyway, shall we get to work?”

He started to walk away again, but Melanie cleared her throat to draw his attention. He took a single step and stopped. Despite their touching little moment of mutual understanding, she knew she had to set some clear expectations before a frustrating dynamic took hold. Brian finally turned back.

“I appreciate your efforts to rein in your friend Rita,” Melanie said. “However, I really need to make sure she understands that I’m in charge around here. I never particularly wanted to be in charge, but it happened. Everyone looks to me, and it seems to work. If Rita’s going to stay here for a while, I need her to accept my leadership. I can’t have you serving as some kind of middle manager or mediator. That’s not going to work.”

Brian gave her a sheepish grin. Despite the fact that he looked like a rough and tough guy, he seemed suddenly quite embarrassed. “Oh, hey, I wasn’t trying to step on your toes earlier. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again. I’ll make sure Rita knows you’re the boss.”

“No harm, no foul,” Melanie said, waving the apology aside. “There’s just going to be some growing pains for a bit, I guess. That’s what happens when you add new people into the mix.”

She meant to say more, but a door elsewhere in the factory floor swung open and hit the wall with a bang, and Lizzy stepped out from under the walkway looking quite flustered. She glanced around the big gloomy factory space for a moment before spotting Melanie behind the line.

“There you are,” she said. “Hey, Mel, can you help with…you know…that project I’m dealing with.” She pulled a rag out of the pocket of her shirt and dabbed her cheeks and forehead.

“Yeah, Liz, I’ll be right there,” Melanie replied. “I just need to finish talking to Brian here.”

Lizzy glanced at the man, one eyebrow going up. Clearly, she didn’t quite know what to make of these new people.

“All right, fine, but don’t take too long,” she said. And with that, Lizzy backed into the shadows beneath the walkway. After a moment, the door swung shut again with a bang.

Brian watched her go, then said, “Is there anything I can do to help her? I’d like to be useful, if she needs someone.” And did he it say in such a way that suggested…something? Melanie wasn’t sure, but she decided not to ask for now.

“You’re doing plenty by helping repair the damage Cooper and his men did to the factory,” Melanie said. “Keep up the good work. I can’t ask for more than that.”

“Happy to help,” he said. He held up his callused hands then. “By the way, you didn’t happen to see a pair of gloves lying around here somewhere, did you? I brought them into the factory with me. The leather gloves from my former place of work. They’re just about the only worldly possession I have left. I set them down during lunch, and I can’t seem to find them.”

“We try to run a tight ship here,” Melanie said. “A place for everything, and everything in its place. That way we always know where to find whatever we need. It’s possible someone saw the gloves lying around and thought they’d been left out.”

“I hope so,” he said, smacking his hands together again. “Well, anyway, shall we get back to work?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” Melanie pushed her chair back and motioned for him to get going. There was so much more left to be done. So much more. And Cooper could return at any time.

10

“There’s no avoiding the plain, simple fact,” Shona said. “Everybody in this factory smells really bad, and the new people are the worst ones yet. I didn’t even know a human being could smell so rancid. It’s in the air. It’s in the walls. I’m going to puke and die if this keeps up.”

They’d finished filling their buckets with shrapnel, and they’d had a small lunch. Now, they were sitting on folding chairs in the small office that had been converted into a library. Books, magazines, and notebooks were stacked on shelves along two walls, with a row of chairs set across from them. It was a simple space, with some rechargeable solar-powered lamps providing just enough light to read by.

They weren’t reading books, however. They were just resting and enjoying a bit of privacy from all of the adults. Shona had been increasingly bothered by the growing stench of unwashed adults. Running water had stopped working a long time ago, but the factory had an enormous water tank that was part of the production system. That tank was still well over half full, which gave them plenty of water for bathing. However, they lacked a bath or shower system. People generally washed their hands and faces every morning, but that was it. Clothes weren’t washed either. And, quite frankly, the front half of the factory was cramped, and with no air-conditioning, the place was become stale.

“They do stink really bad,” Nathan said. He’d tipped his chair back on two legs, so he could rest his head and shoulders against the wall. As he did, he swung his legs back and forth. “I don’t smell as bad as they do…do I?”

And when he said it, he looked at her with those big eyes of his, and Shona just couldn’t be completely honest with him. Poor Nathan. He was cute but in a very awkward way that almost made her feel sorry for him. “Well, not as bad as the adults, no, but I think we’re all getting smelly. Like I said, those new people are the worst. It’s like they rolled around in a septic tank before they came here. Doesn’t it drive you crazy not being able to shower? Don’t you feel it? Don’t you feel grubby, sticky?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said. He lightly ran a hand over his wavy hair. “My hair feels kind of greasy.”

“It’s been two weeks since I’ve had a proper bath,” Shona said. Indeed, she felt a constant grimy film all over her body, trapped between her skin and her clothes. She hated it with a passion. Beyond that, her hair was limp and greasy, so that she hated to touch it. “I think it’s making everybody cranky. It definitely contributed to my bad mood yesterday.”

“We could gather up a bunch of soap and hike to the nearest creek or river,” Nathan said. “Bathing in the wild, just like our ancestors did. If we bring a few guns, we should be safe enough. Heck, we could take turns keeping guard on the riverbank, so no bad guys would sneak up on us.”

Shona could envision it, and it was like some beautiful dream. She imagined stepping deep into a clear stream, letting fresh, cold water wash over her. Had she ever wanted anything more than this?

“It would be worth the risk,” Shona said, “but the adults will never agree to it. Mom doesn’t want us to leave the compound for anything, even though she opened the gate to those two smelly weirdos. Sometimes I can’t figure out what she’s thinking.”

“Maybe we could find some cologne to mask the smell,” Nathan said. “My dad used to wear Brut. I never liked the smell of Brut, but it’s better than dirty armpits. There’s probably a bottle of it hidden in a drawer or something around here.”

For someone who had lost his father recently, who lived in the very building where his father had been slain, Nathan seemed remarkably unfazed by it. Shona sometimes wondered if he was suppressing his true feelings—Nathan wasn’t exactly an open book—but she didn’t know how to bring it up.

“Masking the smell is not enough,” she said. “I hate it when I can smell cologne and BO at the same time. Somehow, that’s worse. Plus, I’d still feel grimy, and I hate it. Anyway, it’s not healthy.”

“Can you get sick from not bathing?” Nathan asked. As he said it, he reached up and touched his cheek, his forehead, his neck, as if he could feel the sickness trying to seep into his skin.

“Sure,” Shona replied. “You can get skin infections, acne, all kinds of stuff. Even without that, like I said, everyone is cranky and miserable. A good hot shower would boost everyone’s mood, I bet. We have to get people to bathe.”

“But there’s no hot water,” Nathan reminded her. “The hot-water heater got fried. Anyway, trying to wash your whole body in the locker room sink is not exactly easy.”

Shona pushed herself off the chair and approached the bookshelf. Now that she’d talked about the problem, she was determined to find a solution. Somehow, acknowledging the worsening body odor openly made her feel more upset about. She began riffling through the DIY books, many of which had come from her grandparents’ house.

“Come on, Nathan,” she said, pulling a book off the shelf. “Help me look through these books. Maybe we can find some instructions about building a hot-water system or a shower or something.” The book she’d chosen was about wilderness survival. It seemed off topic, but she flipped through it anyway.

Nathan approached and began picking through the books. “What if we rerouted the water pipes from the water tank and have our new metalworkers weld a showerhead for us. We could even place the pipe over an open flame to heat up the water.”

“That doesn’t seem feasible,” Shona said, as she leafed through instructions for setting up camp, finding edible plants, creating small-animal traps. She reached the end of the book and found nothing on bathing, so she put it away. “We’d need a qualified plumber to move all the pipes around. If we messed up, we might create a big leak that would flood the factory.”

“Can’t we just heat up a bunch of water in a big kettle and take a bath in it?” he asked.

“We don’t have a big kettle,” she replied. “The biggest containers are on the production line, but they probably don’t hold more than a few gallons. Anyway, we don’t have a way to heat up a large amount of water. There’s no stove, no fireplace, no electricity to run the burners on the production line.”

Nathan was flipping through a book on “homesteading,” and he stopped suddenly on a page. “Hey, how about this?” He tapped the page, then held the book up so she could see.

It appeared to be a chapter on building something called a rocket stove. Based on the most prominent diagram, it appeared to be a small wood-burning stove with a chimney on top. Shona studied the diagram, then scanned the instructions. It seemed easy enough, the steps fairly simple, the design not too complex.

“So, we would use it to heat up the water,” she said. “Is that what you’re suggesting?”

“Yeah, can we make it work?”

She took the book from his hands and read through the instruction. As she considered the possibility, she began to envision the rocket stove as part of a bigger solution. “Okay, I’m starting to get an idea here. What if we used hoses to draw water from the tank, collected it in a smaller tub or tank, and then heated it with the stove? I can almost see the design in my head, but I’m not completely sure how to build it. I bet those new people could help us figure it out. Should we ask them?”

Nathan shrugged and nodded. “Sure, but where do we put this shower? The only drains are on the factory floor.”

“Use your imagination, Nathan.” Shona reached over and tapped the side of his head. “We build some kind of framework over one of the factory floor drain holes and cover the thing in a tarp or something. We mount the rocket stove up high, mount the container of water over it, and run a hose from there down into the shower. Are you starting to see it in your head?”

“I guess so,” he said, smiling in his own awkward way.

“Now, can you imagine what it’ll be like when we can walk around this place and not smell the nasty armpits of everyone else?” she said. “Can you imagine sitting in a room that doesn’t reek of stale bad breath and dirty hair? It’ll feel like restoring civilization a little bit.”

“I kind of forgot what it’s like to be clean,” Nathan said. “I guess I’ve slowly been getting used to the stench.”

Shona stuck her finger in between the pages of Nathan’s book. “I will never accept a world where nose-searing body odor is acceptable, Nathan, and neither should you. Come on. Let’s go share our idea with the others. Once people are clean, they’ll start feeling better, and maybe this whole awful situation will be more bearable.”

Indeed, she could see a brighter and less smelly future, and it made her feel more hopeful than she had since the beginning of this whole ordeal. Book firmly in hand, she headed for the door.

11

Shona briefly debated with herself whether or not to speak to her mother alone or with Nathan. Though Shona hadn’t really talked to Nathan about it, she didn’t think her mother liked him all that much. She barely ever spoke directly to him, and Shona would sometimes catch her casting disapproving looks in his direction when they were hanging out. It was just one more thing that Shona hadn’t dealt with yet. It seemed there were many tensions lying just beneath the surface around here, so much that went unsaid.

Don’t worry about it now, Shona told herself. You can deal with all sorts of stuff once everyone is clean.

Nathan had helped come up with the idea anyway, so he deserved to be there when they presented it. Indeed, she glanced back to make sure he was following. Nathan was really quiet when he was around the others. He barely spoke unless he was alone with Shona.

The others don’t even really know him, she thought. To them, he’s just Derrick’s son, but he’s nothing like that guy.

She found her mother helping Josh, Grandpa, and the newcomers reinstall the back door. It looked like they’d reshaped the whole thing somehow. Of course, Shona had heard the sharp tapping of hammers for the better part of an hour earlier in the afternoon, but now the results were revealed. The door was the right shape to fit back into the doorframe properly, but the surface was marred and ugly.

Still, if they could get the door back into shape, the rocket stove and shower shouldn’t be a problem. Shona hated to intrude. Actually, she still felt a little weird drawing attention to herself around the adults, so she stood at the corner and cleared her throat. Josh noticed her first then made a little hand gesture to get Melanie’s attention.

“Shona,” she said. “Is something going on?”

“I just wanted to talk to you for a minute,” Shona replied.

Melanie glanced at Mr. Turner, and he nodded.

“I’ve got things well in hand,” he said. “Well get the door in place. Go ahead.”

Shona marveled again at just how filthy the newcomers were. Both of them had limp, greasy hair and black under their fingernails. Their smell filled the hallway. How could they stand it?

I’d trade half our supplies for some hot, running water, Shona thought.

As soon as Melanie approached, Shona led her back around the corner. She felt more comfortable sharing her idea without everyone staring at her.

“Nathan and I came up with a good idea,” Shona said. She opened the book to the rocket stove page and held it up for her mother to see. “What do you think?”

Melanie leaned in and looked at the page. “What’s this? Some kind of small stove?” Even as she spoke, her eyes flitted from Shona to Nathan, and Shona thought she saw the disapproval there.

Stop glaring at my boyfriend, Shona thought. You don’t even know him.

“Well, yes, it’s a stove,” Shona said. “We had an idea to build a rocket stove to heat up water, so we can create warm water for showers. We need some larger containers, somewhere to store the water while we’re heating it. It wouldn’t even be that hard. What do you think?”

Nathan was standing partially behind her. Did he sense Melanie’s disapproval? Was he trying to hide from her unfriendly gaze? Shona didn’t blame him.

Melanie took the book from her hands and studied the page for a moment. Finally, she gave it back to Shona and said, “Is showering our biggest priority right now? We’ve got enemies out there planning to attack us.”

“If it’s not the biggest priority, it’s number two,” Shona said. “Mom, people can’t just go on and on without washing themselves. It’s not good for any of us. Haven’t you noticed how dirty and smelly we all are?”

“I noticed, but I had more important things to worry about,” Melanie said.

“So, you don’t like my idea?” Shona said, shutting the book and tucking it under her arm.

Melanie reached out and patted her on the shoulder. “I didn’t say that. Actually, it’s a good idea, but I don’t know if now is the right time. Maybe after we’ve dealt with Cooper and his men, we can spend time and resources constructing your heated shower. How does that sound?”

Shona looked back at Nathan, but he clearly wasn’t going to be much help. He was standing behind her right shoulder, fiddling with the hem of his black t-shirt. As he did, the little anime decals on the front seemed to jump and dance. In that moment, Shona had a brief flashback to her Japanese club at school, and she felt a terrible pang. The days of waking up, taking a shower, and going to school were over. Gone forever. At least a hot-water shower would give her back some vital piece of her old routine.

“Look, Nathan and I aren’t as skilled as the other adults around here,” Shona said. “If you don’t want to help, at least let us work on this project. It’ll be a good way to develop our skills, and, heck, we’ll feel a lot more confidence about ourselves. Plus, we won’t be in the way. We won’t be bothering anyone else.”

Her mother seemed to consider this, hands on her hips. “Very well,” she said, after a moment. “You can gather up whatever raw materials you need to build this thing, but I want you to keep a detailed list of every little thing you take or use. Got it?”

“Yes, Mom, of course,” Shona said.

“I only say that because a few things have gone missing lately,” Melanie said. “I want everything accounted for at all times.”

Shona glanced at Nathan again. “What sort of stuff has gone missing?”

“Well, a pair of leather work gloves, for one thing,” she said. “Someone set them down at lunchtime, and they disappeared. Have either of you two seen them?”

Nathan finally looked up at Shona and shrugged. “Not me,” he said.

“Me neither,” Shona said. “We wouldn’t take someone else’s gloves, anyway. What’s the point?”

“Well, keep your eyes out for them,” Melanie said. “You can get started on your project. Consider this your formal approval.”

Her mother was in a bad mood. She even gave approval in a tone of voice that suggested it annoyed her to do so. Shona assumed it had something to do with the new people, but then again, bringing them in had been her mom’s idea. If she was stressed out about it, then it was her own fault. The whole thing had seemed rather sudden, but Shona decided not to linger. She didn’t want to get into it with her mother. She’d been in a bad mood herself lately.

“Okay, thanks, Mom. We’ll get to work on it right away.”

She grabbed Nathan by the arm and pulled him away. They headed into the factory floor. She assumed her mother meant it when she’d told her to keep track everything, and Shona didn’t want there to be any excuse to cancel her project. So the first thing she did was to walk all the way across the partially dismantled production lines into the big storage room at the back of the building.

“I wasn’t sure she would give us approval,” Nathan said. “Seemed like she was going to say no.”

“Well, it gets us out of her way, doesn’t it?” Shona replied. “You could have said a few words too, you know.”

“You handled it just fine,” he said. “Anyway, I knew anything I said wouldn’t help. I don’t think your mom likes me. Sometimes she’s polite, but most of the time, she won’t talk to me directly. Have you ever noticed how she looks at me?”

“Mom’s just in a bad mood,” Shona said. “Better to avoid her as much as possible.”

“No, she doesn’t like me. She doesn’t like that you and I have become close, and I think you know exactly why.”

The storage room was filled with tall shelves stacked with meticulously arranged boxes of supplies, each stack carefully labeled with little strips of tape. A clipboard hung from a hook near the door, a stack of paper under the clip containing rows and rows of neat handwriting that identified the location and precise number of every item in the room.

Shona flipped through the sheets until she found a blank page. Then she pulled it out from under the clip and took a pencil off a small pile of them on a nearby shelf.

“I don’t know what Mom is thinking, but let’s not worry about it,” she said. She tried to give Nathan an encouraging smile and nod, but he only shrugged in return. “We have our own project now, so we don’t have to deal with her for a while. Let’s round up everything we need to make the shower. Concentrate on that.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “I guess we’ll have to figure out exactly how we’re going to build this thing.”

They sat down in the storage room with the book and picked through the rocket stove instructions to determine what they needed. In the end, their list contained a wide range of things, including duct tape, pallets, hoses, and even some gravel from the parking lot. Once they had the list, they began picking their way through the factory, locating each item. Some were easier to find than others, and some were easier to collect than others.

They managed to disconnect some industrial hoses from one of the unused machines on the production line. Duct tape came from a supply closet. Pallets were plentiful, but all of them had stuff stacked on top, so they spent some time moving heavy boxes in the storage room to free up a few. Gathering gravel from the parking lot meant sneaking out of the back door on the factory floor. The last items they went to collect were the big container vessels from the production line, but here they ran into a snag.

The containers were essentially large pots hanging over part of the production lines. Nathan used a ladder to climb up and reach them, but he discovered that the containers were welded in place. Shona braced the ladder from below.

“So this pot is mounted to a metal arm and some kind of motor with big gears,” Nathan said, wobbling as he leaned against the equipment. “As I recall, they used to pour stuff into molds, and it moved automatically on some kind of timer. But it’s mounted really good here. I don’t think we can remove it.”

“Maybe one of the new people could help us,” Shona said. “The metalworkers.”

Nathan wobbled again and caught himself against the top of the ladder. “Do you really want to go and ask for their help right now? Our project is not a priority. Maybe we could just borrow the welding torch.”

Shona considered their predicament. “No way are they going to let us use the welding torch,” she said. “No way. We’d have to sneak it, and Mom would pitch a fit if she caught us. No, we’ll have to get an adult to help us. Maybe my dad…?”

But a thought occurred to her then. Was there another option? If they were going to get one of the adults to help them, maybe they could take it a step further.

“What are you thinking about?” Nathan asked, as he descended the ladder.

“I don’t think my dad can weld,” Shona said, “but I bet he could help us with something even better.” Yes, now that she’d thought about, she was excited about the possibility. “Forget these pots. Why don’t we use the tank from the water heater? It’s bigger. It already has hose attachments. It holds more water. And it will probably be easier to remove.”

Nathan nodded thoughtfully and tapped the side of his head. “That’s a great idea. I can’t believe we didn’t think of it sooner.”

“Okay, let’s go draft my dad into helping us,” Shona said. “He’s not working in the back hall, and the front wall should be mostly repaired by now, so he has nothing better to do. We’re about to save this factory.”

12

“I didn’t realize you’ve been thinking about body odor so much lately,” Dad said, as he followed Shona and Nathan down the hall. “You never spoke about it until now. This is a pretty elaborate plan you’ve whipped up. I mean, I know you’re smart enough for it, but clearly, this has been on your mind.”

“How can I not think about it, Dad?” Shona asked. “I have to smell the problem constantly, and it gets worse every day. My nostrils are melting. I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Taking a nice, warm shower is going to be really life-affirming,” he said. “I’ll tell you that much.”

His obvious enthusiasm bolstered her confidence in the project, and she smiled at him. “See? Dad gets it. We’ve got food. We’ve got beds. We’ve got walls and a roof over our heads, but without regular bathing, we’re still living like wild people.”

“Showers will have to be brief and limited,” Dad said. “We don’t want to use up all the water in the factory’s tank. We can set up a system to replenish it with rain water, but that’ll take time.”

Shona hadn’t really considered this possibility, and she traded a nervous look with Nathan. By the expression on his face, it seemed he hadn’t considered it either.

“We’ll tell people to take quick showers, then,” he said. “It’s better than nothing.”

Just then, they came upon Dusty. All of the hammering and banging around the back door seemed to have spooked the poor dog, as she would no longer approach the back hall. Indeed, as Shona came around the corner, she saw the dog crouched at the bottom of the stairs and whimpering. Shona called her and she quickly came to their side.

“You stick with us, girl,” Shona said. “Heck, when we’re done, even you might get a bath. Now, how does that sound?”

The oblivious dog just panted and trotted along. Dad reached down and petted her. Dusty was somewhat wary of the new people, it seemed, and she’d spent more time hiding in rooms on her own since they’d arrived.

As they stepped through the double doors into the factory floor, Shona’s father cleared his throat and said, “Now, look, I’ll help you with this project, but you two are the leads on this. You told me your mother put you in charge, so I want you to make the big decisions. Got it? I trust you to get it done.”

Shona felt such a great swell of pride that she instinctively reached out and grabbed Nathan’s hand. Then she became intensely self-conscious, especially with her dad nearby, and she let go. Nathan grimaced and flushed bright red.

In an effort to get beyond the awkwardness, Shona quickly surveyed the factory floor, looking for the best place to put the shower. At the top of the ramp, an elevated walkway with a handrail ran along the wall, past the locker room and offices, and around the corner about seven or eight feet above the factory floor. It then went about halfway down the factory floor and came to an abrupt stop at a protruding platform. Shona assumed it was a place where managers used to stand to get a good overview of everything happened along the production lines.

It was also close to the enormous water tank that was mounted above the factory floor. They had access to the water via a small spigot and rubber hose that could be reached at the end of the walkway.

“Right there,” she said, pointing to the end of the walkway. “On that raised platform at the end there. That’s where we should put the water tank from the water heater. We’ll divert just enough water from the main tank to fill it. Then the shower itself can be positioned in the space below, so we can use gravity for the water flow. There are support posts there, so we can attach curtains and stuff, and the water can run down the floor to the drain there. What do you guys think?”

“That’s brilliant,” her father said. He reached over to pat her, but then he winced and drew his arm back. His gunshot wound was hidden under his shirt. Shona had mostly forgotten about it, but it clearly still bothered him. “Unfortunately, the water heater is in a closet under the walkway on the other side of the room, so we’ll have to drag it up the ramp.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Nathan said. He spoke quieter when he was around the other adults. Shona was tempted to tell him to speak up, but she feared it would make him even more self-conscious. “I’ll show you. Wait right here.”

Nathan dashed down the ramp and across the room. Dusty started to follow him, got halfway down the ramp, then changed her mind and came back to Shona’s side. Nathan disappeared through the storage room door at the back of the room, and a few seconds later, Shona heard a soft squeaking of wheels. He soon reappeared pushing a battered old pallet jack.

“Will this work?” he asked, as he drew near.

“It’ll be a big help,” Shona’s father replied.

All of the supplies they’d gathered for the project were stacked up at the end of the middle production line. Nathan grabbed a flashlight in passing as they headed to the water heater closet in the corner. The water heater was an old blue tank sitting on a wooden platform deep in the darkness of a narrow closet. He clicked on the light and shone it over the water heater.

As soon as she saw it, Shona realized they had their work cut out for them. There were pipes and wires and metal pieces coming out of the top, bottom, and sides, and it seemed firmly connected to its platform. In reality, Shona had only a basic understanding of how electric water heaters worked.

“How do we move this thing?” she asked.

“It’s not going to be easy,” her father replied. “We’ll need some tools. You two will have to help me with the manual labor. After all of the work we did in the front room, my shoulder is killing me.”

“We have tools out by the stack of supplies,” Shona said.

“I’ll get them,” Nathan said.

He dashed back out of the closet and returned lugging a metal toolbox in one hand.

“Well, let’s get to work,” he said. Nathan set the toolbox on the edge of the wood platform and opened the lid. “Tell me where to start, sir. I’ve never dismantled a water heater before.”

And so it began, the first step of a process that turned out to be far more involved and difficult than Shona had imagined. First, they had to disconnect the pipes, but the fittings were so tight and old that it took some heavy-duty wrench-work to loosen them. Fortunately, they’d already drained the tank weeks earlier, so when they removed the hoses, only a small amount of residual stagnant water spurted out.

After the hoses were disconnected, they had to disconnect some wiring and then unscrew a mount that held the water heater to the wood platform. All of this was slow, meticulous work that soon made Shona’s arms sore.

Once it was done, they stood back and admired their handiwork for a minute.

“That was a little worse than I thought it would be,” Shona noted. “I guess they make these things really sturdy.”

“You did a great job,” her father said.

Next, they had to tip the water heater onto the pallet jack. It was heavy, so it took all three of them working together to get it moved. Dad braced it with his good shoulder, and Shona and Nathan wrestled it into place. Once there, however, it was a simple enough task to push the pallet jack out of the closet, up the ramp, and down the walkway to the platform at the end. Then they struggled to get the water heater off the jack and onto the floor of the platform, which proved tricky because of limited space. Shona found herself smashed against the handrail as she wrestled with the big metal tank.

It had taken over an hour by this point, and Shona had some scrapes on her hands that she’d picked up somewhere along the way. Still, as the water heater clanked down onto the platform, she traded a satisfied look with Nathan. Yes, there was something rewarding in the hard work, and she found herself happier and more fulfilled by this than anything else she’d done since the world ended.

“There’s a lot of work left to be done,” her father said, “but I think that was the hard part. The rest of it should be easier. Shona, where did you leave the book with the instructions?”

“Down by the supplies,” she said.

“Okay, show us what comes next.”

What came next, she decided, was building the rocket stove, so they gathered up the scrap metal and parts they’d acquired from the production line and followed the directions in the book. Building the stove proved much faster, if not easier, and in short order, they had a small, sturdy appliance cobbled together from the scrap.

“It’s a smart, simple design,” Shona’s dad noted. “As long as there’s wood for fuel, we can heat water continually. Now, how does the shower work? What’s your vision for it, Shona?”

“We run a hose to the spigot on the main water tank,” she said. “Then we run a second hose down into the shower area below. We have gravity to pull the water into the water tank, and gravity to send it down into the shower area. Water pressure won’t be amazing, but it should be enough. Maybe we can pour the water through something to make it disperse a little like a showerhead. I’m not sure about that part yet.”

“I know something we can use,” Nathan said. “In the break room, there’s a metal colander along with some cups and glasses and stuff. If we pour the water through the colander, it will spray a little like a showerhead.”

“Sounds good to me,” Shona’s dad said. “When you two put your heads together, you make a pretty good team. Let’s finish this.”

Dusty had watched all of their hard work from a distance. It seemed to make her nervous, especially when the work made a lot of noise. At the same time, she apparently didn’t want to be alone, so she found a spot a few feet away and lay down to watch.

As Nathan retrieved the colander, Shona and her father created the curtained shower area below. They used a big tarp as a shower curtain, ran another heavy-duty hose from the water heater on the floor of the walkway, and mounted the hose to a support post. They then attached one of the nozzles from the water heater pipework to the end of the hose. Finally, when Nathan returned, they mounted the metal colander just beneath the hose, where it would scatter the water in a way that might approximate a real shower.

In the end, they stood back on the factory floor and admired their handiwork. Shona was worn out, but mentally invigorated.

“What do you think, Dad?” she asked. “Will it work? Can we heat up enough water for a warm shower?”

“I’d say you could get a few minutes of warm water once the tank is full and heated,” he replied. “It’s not a lot, but we want to use the water supply sparingly anyway. It’s a heck of a lot better than what we had before. We’ll have to create a schedule for the shower, so people aren’t competing for it.”

“Let’s just get people in there as soon as possible,” Shona said. “The era of bad odors is coming to an end, Dad.”

13

Melanie stood at the end of the line of admirers and studied the makeshift shower that Shona and Nathan had designed. Some of this had come from the DIY book, but much of it had come straight out of their own minds. A long hose ran from a spigot on the factory’s main water tank down to the smaller tank from the water heater. The rocket stove was mounted near the bottom and to one side of the smaller tank, and a second hose ran from the water heater’s old valve to a curtained shower below the walkway.

She could see flames licking through the vents in the side of the rocket stove, black smoke curling up toward the ceiling. Fortunately, there wasn’t much smoke, and the factory had vents on the roof. When Shona turned the valve and let some water splash out into the colander, it was like she’d performed a magic act. Lizzy, Josh, and Mr. Turner applauded. The new people, Rita and Brian, gasped loudly. Even Dusty came padding over and wagged her tail.

“Shona, this is really impressive,” Melanie said, giving her daughter a hug. “I don’t think any of us would have come up with such a great design.” Indeed, Melanie had initially seen it as just a silly little project, something to give Shona and Nathan a bit of work to do. She hadn’t expected the end result to be anything particularly useful. Of course, she never would have admitted this to her daughter. Still, the end result far exceeded her expectations.

Maybe I expect too little from Shona, she thought.

“Nathan helped a lot,” Shona replied, shutting off the water. “And Dad too.”

Nathan was standing off to one side with a smile on his face as he stared at the shower. He had a clipboard tucked under his arm. “It was mostly Shona’s idea,” he said. “I just contributed a few things here and there.”

“I’ve used camp showers so many times on hunting trips,” Mr. Turner said. “It’s always awkward standing under a tree with a bit of sun-warmed water trickling out of plastic hose, trying to wash off the soap, but I would have been fine with that, honestly. I’m used to it. But this, my dear, is luxury.” He gave his granddaughter a big hug.

“Thanks, Grandpa,” Shona replied.

Even with the water shut off, the group lingered in front of the shower, just gazing in wonder at it. Finally, Melanie had to goad them to move.

“Okay, well, here’s what I think we should do,” she said. “It’s well past time for dinner, so we need to eat. We can take turns with the shower. Should we create a signup sheet or something?”

“We already thought of that,” Shona said, gesturing at Nathan.

He pulled the clipboard out from under his arm and held it up, revealing a piece of paper under the clip that already had numerous blank spaces for names. He then produced a pencil from his shirt pocket.

“We have to time the showers so there’s enough time in between to refill the tank and warm the water,” he said. “We’re thinking one-hour intervals.”

“Should we go in order from oldest to youngest?” Mark asked.

“I’m the oldest,” Mr. Turner replied, “but I don’t want to go first. That doesn’t seem right.”

“Alphabetical order, then?” Lizzy suggested.

They all looked at Melanie, waiting for her answer, but Melanie nodded at Shona. “What do you think?”

Shona started to say something, then hesitated a second before continuing. “Well, like Nathan said, the tank will have to refill and warm up between showers, so it’s going to take a long time for everyone to use it. I think we should let the new people shower first. Then the men. Then the women. Then me and Nathan. That’s what I think.”

“Why that particular order?” Melanie asked.

“Well, just because of…” Shona shrugged. “Just because of…”

“Because of the smell,” Nathan finished. “Smelliest to least smelly makes the most sense.”

* * *

Dinner consisted of a soup mix that they heated on one of their portable stoves, some crackers, and green beans, all washed down with warm tea. As they usually did during meals, they ate together in the break room. Mark and Melanie sat at one end of the tables, while Josh chatted with Rita and Brian at the other end. Nathan and Shona sat across from each other in the middle where the two tables met, with Mr. Turner on Shona’s right side.

The plates and silverware came from Derrick Platt’s huge supply of camping gear. Melanie had served everyone in order to make sure there was enough soup. No second helpings. Generally speaking, they didn’t do second helpings in the factory. Melanie had no idea how long the food would have to last, so she was careful about portions.

“The potato soup’s not bad for an off-brand soup mix,” Mr. Turner said, sipping from his spoon like he was eating at a formal dinner. “I can even taste a little spice in it. Maybe some onion powder, garlic.”

“It’s excellent,” the newcomer Brian said. “Thanks for sharing your food with us, guys. You have no idea what we had to do outside to get enough food to eat every day.”

“You earned it today,” Melanie said from the other end of the tables. “The new door works perfectly, and you’ve proved that covering the exterior wall with scrap metal is going to work.”

“Well, it’s nice to be useful,” Brian said.

Rita was eating ravenously, saying little but grinning broadly between bites. Soup had already splattered the front of her uniform and her right sleeve. Melanie was tempted to tell her to calm down, but she decided to let the poor woman enjoy her meal as she saw fit.

Her gaze happened to fall on Lizzy’s steaming bowl. The chair was empty.

“Is Lizzy still working?” she asked Mark.

“Yeah, she didn’t follow us to the break room,” he replied. “She veered off somewhere near the showers. Maybe the bathroom. Not sure.”

And then, as if the very mention of her name had summoned her, Lizzy walked into the room, wiping her hands on a rag. She took her seat with a big sigh.

“Feeling okay?” Melanie asked.

“Oh, just…” She looked around the table. “Bit of an upset stomach. Just in time for dinner.” She shrugged and scooped up some soup anyway, giving Melanie a smile and a wink.

“You need the nutrients,” Melanie said. “We have to stay healthy.”

“Yeah, yeah, better than scraping roadkill off the highway like our new friends down there,” Lizzy muttered before jamming the spoon in her mouth.

Rita and Brian had both showered already, and they looked like different people. Friendlier and more approachable. If they’d come to the gate like this, Melanie might not have hesitated to let them through. They’d had to put on their old clothes again, unfortunately, but at least Rita had brought along a change of underwear.

“Pop, I think you’re next in the shower,” Melanie said to Mr. Turner. “Right after dinner. The tank should have refilled by then, but you’ll have to stoke the fire to get it heating.”

“I don’t mind a cold shower,” he said. “Actually, it can be quite refreshing. Heck, I took a shower under an ice-cold waterfall in the Smoky Mountains once. Don’t worry, I won’t take long, and then it’ll be Mark’s turn.”

When Melanie turned to Mark, she realized he hadn’t eaten much. Indeed, he was just sort of staring at the bowl, a distance in his eyes. She tapped his shoulder. “Hey, husband, come back to earth. What’s up? Aren’t you hungry?”

“Just tired,” he said. “It’s been a long day, I guess, and my shoulder’s bothering me a little.” He reached up to where the wound was and lightly tapped it.

“You probably worked too hard today,” Melanie replied, rubbing his back between his shoulder blades. “Take it easy. You’re still healing, you know.”

“Yeah, I think I’m done building showers for now,” he replied.

“Well, tomorrow you just rest. No more major construction projects for you.”

He gave her a little salute and resumed eating. As Melanie looked around the table, a thought came to her, an unresolved thread that was still dangling in the air.

“Brian, did you ever find your missing gloves?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I can’t figure out what happened to them. It’s like they vanished into thin air.”

“Did anyone happen to find them?” she asked.

Everyone at the table shook their heads in turn.

“It’s funny you mention that,” Mark said. “The little multi-tool I carry around is also missing. It’s usually in my pocket, but I took it out when we were working on the front wall. I’m pretty sure I set it down on the reception desk, but it’s gone now.”

“I gave that to you for your birthday three years ago,” Shona said. “I remember picking it out at the hardware store.”

“Well, I can’t find it anywhere,” Mark said.

Melanie didn’t want this to be a thing. Suddenly, items were turning up missing, and she really wanted to believe it was just a coincidence. But, no, this felt like a problem developing in their midst. Was it possible someone was taking things? That seemed silly. They were all living in this space together. What could a thief possibly gain from stealing anything when there was nowhere else to take it?

“Have any of you seen a multi-tool lying around here?” Melanie asked. “It’s a small folding tool, sort of like a Swiss army knife.”

Her gaze flitted from face to face, working her way around the table. Brian seemed frustrated, Rita and Josh appeared confused. Shona and Nathan had questioning looks on their faces. Lizzy had a slight frown, and Mark looked half-asleep. Was one of these people a thief?

“Nobody?” she said.

“I’ve been known to misplace things from time to time,” Mr. Turner said. “If you’re not paying attention, you can set something down and forget where you set it.”

“I’ve seen nothing out of place,” Josh offered. “Actually, we run quite a tidy ship around here.”

“Is it possible someone is sneaking in the building and pinching stuff?” Rita offered. “A determined thief could get over the barbed wire, and it’s not like you can keep an eye on every square inch of the compound.”

Rita’s explanation seemed unlikely, though the slightest possibility gave Melanie an uneasy feeling.

“If a thief managed to get in here, would they really go for a pair of gloves and a multi-tool?” Lizzy said. “Those don’t seem like high-value targets.”

“Well, maybe it’s someone just taking whatever they can get their hands on,” Rita said. “Half the population has turned to theft beyond the walls, and they take what they can get. Trust me. We had a creepy guy steal a pair of dirty socks that were hanging out of a car window to dry overnight.”

“Surely Dusty would smell an intruder and alert us to his presence,” Melanie said, but her gaze went to the dog, who was curled up lazily on the floor beside Shona’s seat.

Or would she? she wondered. She seemed anxious about the presence of Rita and Brian, but she never barked at them. In fact, she mostly avoided them.

“Maybe Max is right. Maybe I misplaced the tool,” Mark said. “I’ll keep looking. Let’s not assume anything malicious. Not yet. I don’t want everyone worrying about thieves climbing the walls when it might just be my own forgetfulness.”

“I think you should rest after dinner until it’s your time to take a shower,” Melanie asked. “I’ll look for the missing items.”

She resumed eating, but her brief moment of peace had passed. Another damned thing to worry about.

You don’t know that there’s a thief, she reminded herself. Don’t get worked up about something until you have a reason to.

By the time she finished her soup, she noticed that Mark had stopped eating and was just sort of staring at the tabletop. His bowl was still half full, while most of the others were finished or getting close. Even Lizzy, with the little frown on her face, had forced herself to work through the entire bowl, and she was now sitting back in her chair and clutching her belly.

“Mark, don’t you want to finish your food?” Melanie asked. “It would be good for you to eat. You need the nutrition to heal.”

“I ate as much as I could stomach,” he said. “Honestly, I’m not feeling all that good, Mel. It seems I really overdid it today. Probably best if I just go lie down.”

He seemed flushed, and his eyes were glazing over, as if he were on the verge of falling asleep right there at the table. Melanie pressed the back of her hand to his cheek, and he felt way too hot. His forehead was worse, and his neck was practically like touching a live coal.

“My God, you’re burning up,” she said.

“I do feel a little warm,” he said. “Is it bad?”

“How long have you felt like this?”

“Not sure,” he replied. “It’s been getting worse during dinner. I’ll eat. Hang on.” He spooned up some soup, as if he wanted to assuage her concerns, but the spoon only got about halfway to his mouth before he dumped it back in the bowl.

“How long has your shoulder been hurting?” Melanie asked.

“Well, my shoulder’s been aching since this afternoon. It was hurting me after we did the wall repairs. I tried to take it easy when we were building the shower, but maybe I did too much.”

“All right, that’s it,” she said, pushing her chair back. She rose and beckoned him. “Come on. You’re going to lie down and take it easy. Forget about the soup.”

He struggled to stand, and she grabbed him under his good arm to help him. Once he was on his feet, she turned him in the direction of the hallway. However, in a moment of frustration, she addressed the table.

“I’ll be taking care of Mark,” she said, looking at no one in particular, “but I expect that damned multi-tool and those damned gloves to turn up. I don’t need a confession. There won’t be any punishment or weirdness. I just expect them to suddenly turn up, and then we’ll never speak of them again. I hope I’ve made myself clear.”

She could feel their eyes on her, but she turned and guided Mark toward the hall.

14

She didn’t realize Josh had followed her until she got Mark into the bedroom and settled him on his cot. For a second, she had the strange notion that Josh was going to produce the gloves and multi-tool and hand them to her, maybe even offer a tearful apology. However, he was standing in the door, gazing down at Mark with a concerned look on his face.

“The last time I treated his wound, it seemed to be healing,” Josh asked, “but maybe things have taken a turn for the worse. Would you like me to take a look again?”

“Please do,” Melanie said, stepping back from the cot and gesturing toward a nearby stool.

Mark was lying on his back, his hands clasped on his chest. His eyes were half-lidded, glassy, his cheeks bright red. Josh took a seat and began examining him. He gently pried his eyelids back and peered in his eyes, then pressed two fingers to his neck, taking his pulse. Afterward, he felt his forehead and cheek.

“I should get a thermometer,” he said. “We have plenty of them up in the old office. He’s burning up. I’d better take a look at that wound, too. How do you feel, Mark? Can you describe it to me?”

“The shoulder is throbbing, doc,” Mark replied, voice slurring. “Otherwise, I sort of feel like I’m coming down with the flu. Is that possible? Could this be the flu?”

“It’s possible, but unlikely,” Josh said, as he unbuttoned Mark’s shirt and pulled it open.

Melanie moved up behind him so she could see the wound. Of course, she’d seen him with his shirt off numerous times in the last few weeks, so she’d kept an eye on the wound, but maybe she’d overlooked something. Maybe her lack of medical training had caused her to underestimate how bad it was.

Once uncovered, she saw the stained bandage. It had some antiseptic on it, but it had discolored, as if the wound were oozing. Josh carefully unwrapped the bandage, revealing the wound itself. The bullet hole was an inch-long incision still with a couple of stitches in it. However, the flesh around the incision was a notably dark shade of red, and the wound seemed to be oozing some pinkish fluid.

“Have you been keeping an eye on this thing?” Josh asked.

“I’ve tried to,” Melanie replied. “We change the bandage every day and apply antiseptic each time, but it’s never looked quite this bad. Not this red, anyway.”

“How bad is it, doc?” Mark asked. “Tell me the truth. I can handle it.”

“Well, it looks like it’s gotten infected to me,” Josh replied.

Melanie felt a moment of near despair, and she fought to step back from the brink. So many things had piled up lately, this felt like the final straw. She took a moment to collect herself before saying, “How can it be infected? All of the bullet fragments were removed. We did surgery on it twice, and he’s done a round of antibiotics. I thought he was on the mend.”

Josh wadded up the old bandage and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “Well, if he’s been on meds and he still developed a fever, it could mean that the bacteria running through his body is resistant to that particular antibiotic. We might need something else, something stronger, to treat him. Would you mind getting me the first aid kit from the office?”

“Of course,” Melanie replied.

As she headed out into the hallway, she saw Lizzy standing in the doorway of the break room, as if she’d intended to come and check on them.

“Everything okay, Mel?” she asked.

“Yeah…well, maybe not,” Melanie said. No sense lying about the situation. There were no feelings that needed sparing. “Help clean up the dinner mess, would you? I’ll take care of Mark.”

“You got it,” Lizzy replied. And with that, she backed into the break room.

Melanie rushed to the supply room, still dancing on the edge of despair. By the time she returned to the bedroom with one of the big first aid kits, she was walking in a gray fog. Between Cooper’s impending attack, all of the reinforcements to the building that still had to be done, a possible thief in their midst, and now Mark’s infected wound, she’d reached the limit of thing things she could juggle in her mind. She handed Josh the leather kit and retreated to a corner of the room.

As Josh went to work cleaning the wound, she tried to pull herself out of the fog. Everyone needed her. She had to stay on top of things, no matter how many problems were added to the pile.

“When you say we need a stronger medicine,” she said, “what are you talking about exactly? What’s stronger than the antibiotic he’s already taking?”

Josh didn’t answer right away. He was smearing some antiseptic gel on the wound, which caused Mark to gasp in pain. “Well, I’ll start with the diagnosis before I address the solution,” he said. “I’m worried about MRSA. That’s methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus, to be precise.” He said it quietly, glancing toward the bedroom door, as if he didn’t want others to hear him.

“That’s a mouthful,” Mark said softly. His eyes were moving back and forth, as if he were fading in and out of dreams. “Personally, I’d rather have a disease I can pronounce.”

Josh rose and went to the bedroom door, pushing it shut before taking his seat again. “It may be better to keep this to ourselves for now,” he said, pulling a roll of bandages out of the kit. “I don’t want the others to worry.”

“MRSA,” Melanie said. “What is it?”

“It’s the primary cause of staph infections,” Josh said, carefully winding the bandage around Mark’s shoulder. “Look, Melanie, I’m not going to sugarcoat this for you. The others don’t need to hear what I’m about to say, but you need to hear it.”

Do I, though? Melanie wondered, bracing herself.

“MRSA is almost impossible to treat even with access to the best health care at a hospital,” Josh said, plunging ahead whether she was ready or not.

“What makes you think he’s got it?” she asked. “Couldn’t it be something else? Something less severe?”

“The wound is raised and red,” Josh said. “It’s oozing pus, and it’s really warm. Plus, he’s running a fever. All symptoms of MRSA.”

“And how does this play out?” Melanie asked. “What does MRSA do, worst-case scenario?”

“Unfortunately, severe MRSA can cause some extreme complications,” Josh said, “including things like pneumonia, sepsis, heart damage.”

“Can it…can it be fatal?”

Josh nodded.

“Okay, so if that’s the case, how do we treat it?” she asked. “How do we prevent the worst complications from happening?”

Instead of answering, Josh quietly finished bandaging the wound, then tossed a filthy cloth into the trash. Mark’s feverish eyes glanced at Melanie, and she saw her own concern mirrored there. He was alert enough to know what Josh was saying.

“If Mark has MRSA, there’s not really anything we can do about it,” Josh said, finally. “Not with the supplies currently on hand.”

His words hung heavy in the air. Melanie instinct was to snap at him for exaggerating, but she bit her tongue and weighed her words carefully.

“Are you sure about that?” she asked. “There must be something we can do. There’s always a solution to any problem. Isn’t there?”

“The antibiotic we put him on was amoxicillin, which is a broad-spectrum antibiotic,” he said. “It’ll fight a wide range of bacteria, and it’s generally a pretty solid treatment for infections. MRSA is an exception. It’s resistant to many types of antibiotics, including amoxicillin.”

“So are there antibiotics that would work?” Melanie asked.

“Yeah, there are. Vancomycin would be the treatment of choice for an infection as severe as Mark’s, but there are a few others I can think of. Bactrim is another good one. Also, doxycycline, minocycline. To name a few. We don’t have any of those. We’d have to leave the factory and try to make a run to a hospital or clinic.”

“Okay, but we’re stocked up on meds like crazy in here,” Melanie said. Her voice was rising, despite her best efforts to maintain control. “Surely we’ve got something on hand that would help him. Traveling to a hospital is going to be incredibly dangerous. Too dangerous.”

Josh buttoned up Mark’s shirt, then spun on the stool to face her. She could see by the grave expression on his face that he wasn’t particularly hopeful. He ran his hands through his thinning hair and sighed.

“Yes, we have some meds in stock that we can try,” he said, “and I can keep the wound clean. If it gets worse, I might drain it. However, if we don’t see any improvement in the next day or so, then we’ll have to consider a more drastic measure. I know it’s dangerous to leave the factory, but if it’s a choice between making the journey or losing your husband, I think the choice is clear.”

“Losing your husband.” She echoed his words numbly. “Surely it won’t come to that.”

“I don’t mean to add to your distress, Melanie,” Josh said, “but I want you to make your decision with clarity.”

“I understand,” she said. “Thanks for your help.”

Josh rose then and headed for the door. “I’ll go to pick through our medical supplies and select a few things that might as least ease his pain and reduce the fever.”

And with that, he slipped out into the hall. Melanie took his place on the stool and grabbed Mark’s hand.

“Aw, I’ll be up and running in no time,” he said, though his voice was slurring worse than ever. “The doc is just giving us the worst-case scenario. Don’t get worked up about it.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her.

“I’m not worked up,” Melanie replied. “Get plenty of rest. Let’s hope for the best.”

As she leaned forward and kissed him, she could feel the intensity of the heat radiating off his face.

15

When she finally reached her breaking point, it didn’t cause an outburst or a meltdown. She didn’t start shouting at people or pounding the walls with her fists. Instead, she became overwhelmed with fatigue and felt a sudden, desperate need to lie down and sleep. Mark was already on the verge of sleep himself, as Josh continued treating him, so Melanie wandered back to the break room.

Shona and Nathan were cleaning the dinner bowls using a bucket of water on the counter. Dusty was curled up in a nearby corner, sleeping soundly. The dog had been given most of the leftover soup, and she’d lapped it up with wild abandon before becoming sleepy. Brian, Rita, Mr. Turner, and Lizzy were already gone. Perhaps they were sleeping as well. Melanie started to go over and help Shona, if only out of sheer habit. However, she caught herself.

“If Dad’s not taking a shower next, then it’s your turn, Mom,” Shona said.

“Not now,” Melanie replied. “I’m going to lie down for a while. Let the next person go.”

“That’ll be Lizzy,” Shona said, setting a clean bowl on a stack.

“Okay, let her know, would you?”

Shona nodded and wiped her hands on a towel. Melanie wanted to lie down somewhere dark and quiet, somewhere well away from traffic and noise and people speaking. Lying with Mark seemed like it might jostle his wound and make it worse. She thought about it for a minute. Of course, there were some locked closets in the factory floor, particularly under the walkway, that would be dark and quiet, far from anyone. Suddenly, that seemed like a very attractive option. Would her family freak out if she did it?

Hoping to stave off any overreactions, she decided to say something to Shona. “I’m going to find a nice, quiet place to sleep. If you don’t see me for a while, don’t worry about it, okay?”

“What are you going to do?” Shona asked, tossing the towel onto the counter. “Lock yourself in a closet or something?”

When Melanie didn’t immediately respond, Shona turned to her with wide, questioning eyes.

“Actually, yes, I thought about using one of the locked closets under the walkway. I just need some privacy.”

Shona came toward her. “Are you okay, Mom?”

“I just need to be left alone for a while, Shona,” Melanie said. “And I need to sleep.”

“It’s okay, Mom.” Shona hugged her. “You’ve got the keys to this place. You can find the deepest, darkest space, if you need to. Nobody will bother you. I promise.”

“Thanks, Shona.”

As Shona returned to Nathan’s side, Melanie dug into her pockets for the keyring. She found the key for the front gate lock—she kept it separate—but the interior keys were on a different ring. They were Derrick’s old keys. She’d often heard them rattling as he walked down the hall during work days. Because they were so bulky, they didn’t fit in her pants pockets, so she normally kept them in her jacket or even in a drawer somewhere.

Her little blue jacket, which she’d worn constantly since the day of the EMP, was crumpled up on a table in the corner of the break room. Melanie picked it up, shook it out, and dug into the pockets. No keys. Thinking maybe she was confused by her need for sleep, she dug deeper, but the pockets were empty. She hunted around on the floor in case they’d fallen, but she didn’t see them anywhere.

“Shona, Nathan, have either of you seen the big key ring?” she asked.

Shona and Nathan were finishing up, putting the dishes back in the cupboard.

“No, Mom. Did something else turn up missing?” Shona asked.

“Yeah,” Melanie replied.

She was so frustrated now that she walked out of the room without saying anything else. The keys had been in her jacket pocket. She was almost certain about that. Indeed, the weight of them in the pocket had become so familiar to her that wearing the jacket without them felt strange. Flinging the jacker over her shoulder, she headed down the hall.

She passed the room where Josh was still sitting with Mark, but she kept going. First the gloves, then the multi-tool, and now her keys. Could they all have been misplaced? It seemed unlikely. As Josh had said, they kept things pretty organized in the factory.

Maybe someone is finding loose items and returning them to their proper place, she thought. If I look in the supply closets, I might find the keys, gloves, and multi-tool carefully arranged on appropriate shelves.

She wanted to believe it so badly that she walked all the way to the supply closets in the alcove before the factory doors. But it just didn’t make any sense. If someone had put those items back in their proper place, they would have admitted to it when Melanie asked. Instead, they’d all just stared at her with innocent, confused expressions.

Melanie leaned against one of the supply closet doors.

You don’t need to check for the missing items, she told herself. You won’t find them in any of the closets, and you know it. Stop trying to talk yourself out of the obvious conclusion. There’s a thief in your midst.

She felt it. Yes, there was a thief among them. And what else had that person taken? Suddenly, Melanie had the terrible idea that she would open the supply closet and find bare shelves. Needing to check, she opened the door, grabbed a flashlight from its place on the nearest shelf, and turned on the light. She shone the light down the aisle and along the packed shelves. She saw bags and boxes containing tools, weapons, camping gear, and food. At first glance, nothing appeared to be missing, but she decided to take a closer look.

Heading inside, she moved down the aisle toward the back corner of the big closet. Derrick Platt’s enormous steel gun cabinet sat there, out of sight of the closet door. They kept the gun cabinet unlocked for quick access. What if the thief had availed themselves of that fact?

Did Cooper somehow send a spy into our midst to steal from us? she wondered.

It seemed not outside of the realm of possibility, and the thought made Melanie anxious. She swung the gun cabinet open and grabbed a clipboard off the top shelf. Then she went to work picking through the entire case, making sure everything was in place. They had so many guns, it would have been easy to overlook one or two if not for their meticulous record-keeping, and for that she was grateful. The hard work had been worth it.

All guns were accounted for, so she went through their many boxes of ammunition next. She lost count a couple of times and had to start over, but eventually she verified that all of the ammo was present. Not a single bullet missing or out of place. Finally, she opened the door at the bottom of the gun cabinet and checked on the LRAD. The big sonic weapon was there.

So, our thief didn’t go for the weapons, she thought. That’s a relief. But they still got the keys, and what do they plan to do with them?

The possibilities were all deeply troubling.

Melanie decided to check the food supplies next, so she moved to the next aisle. Eventually, they were going to have to go through the entire inventory of every closet and storage space. She would need help for that, but she had to think for a minute about who to trust. Who was least likely to be a thief? Mark, of course, but he was sick. Lizzy or Josh, then.

I’ll ask Josh, she decided, finally. If I can trust him to care for Mark, surely I can trust him to do a full inventory.

She hated the idea that she couldn’t fully trust the people in the factory. Fortunately, after a cursory review of their food and other supplies, nothing seemed to be missing. Melanie left the supply closet and shut the door behind her. She really wanted to sit down and talk to Mark about who it might be. Maybe Rita was right. Maybe some outsider was sneaking into the factory without being spotted.

Or maybe Rita is throwing you off her trail, Melanie thought.

And, as she leaned against the supply closet door, she realized that it was the most likely scenario. Brian and Rita were both new. Yes, they’d done a lot of hard work on the back door. They’d earned their keep, but Melanie just didn’t know them. They’d lived like wild people outside the factory walls for weeks. It must’ve had an effect. Or worse, they could be connected with Cooper.

She headed to one of the other old offices in the hallway. This one was being used to store clothing, blankets, and towels. There wasn’t a bed, but Melanie placed a few blankets on the floor and lay down. She didn’t think she could sleep, despite the fatigue in her body, not until she had some plan of action for dealing with the thief. They couldn’t afford to lose anything else, and she really needed those keys.

As she recalled her earlier conversation with Brian, she realized she trusted him. Somehow, her gut told her that he was okay. He felt safe. Even as she saw him in her mind’s eye, she felt that sense of safety. Brian was a decent person. Anyway, why would Brian have stolen his own gloves?

To throw me off his trail, she thought.

No, that was absurd. There’d been no trail before the gloves went missing. That left Rita. And, of course, Rita had already proved to be just a little difficult. Melanie rolled onto her side, facing the door so she could see a bit of light seeping through the crack at the bottom.

“Of course, it’s Rita,” she muttered. “You know it. You feel it. And why should that surprise you?”

Maybe she’d stolen the gloves to keep Brian from fully embracing the new community, or maybe she just liked to steal whatever she could get her hands on.

Get rid of her. Immediately.

That was her first instinct, but in truth, she needed Rita’s help. Having metalworkers show up at the gate right when they needed them? It was practically a godsend. There was so much work to be done to shore up their defenses, and Rita and Brian were exactly the right people to get it done. And, after all, what if she was wrong? If it wasn’t Rita, then Melanie would be turning away one of the most important assets they’d acquired since taking the factory for no good reason. The woman could weld like a seasoned pro. That skill alone was going to make a huge difference.

Furthermore, if she kicked Rita out of the factory without presenting proof, it might cause tension among the other people. Lizzy, Josh, and Brian, in particular, might resent having to pick up the slack, even if Lizzy and Josh were already mistrustful of Rita.

Test her. Test Rita somehow, so you know for sure.

Yes, that was the answer. If she could prove that Rita was innocent, it would put her mind at ease. On the other hand, if she proved her guilt, then no one would feel bad when Melanie booted her back out into the harsh world.

As she slowly drifted off to sleep, Melanie tried to think of some way to test the newcomer. And it came to her in the last moments. She could invite Rita to work with her on a project, just the two of them, and set up a seemingly harmless conversation to pick away at her.

Rita, I’m going to find out who you really are, she thought, and then I’ll know exactly how to deal with you.

16

She waited until after breakfast, then caught up to Rita outside the bathroom doors near the stairway. There was still a whole lot of work to be done to the outside of the building, and Brian and Rita were key to getting that done. As Melanie approached Rita now, she saw Josh and Brian loading metal sheets onto a pushcart in the back hallway.

I hate to drag her away from this work, but we can afford to lose half a day, Melanie thought. Especially if it helps identify our thief.

Rita had just grabbed the doorknob, clearly intending to use the restroom, when Melanie wagged a finger to catch her attention. Upon first meeting her, Rita had seemed like such a coarse woman, rough around the edges, but she’d softened somehow. The shower had washed away not just the dirt but some of the sharpness. Indeed, she had a rather friendly face, deep-set brown eyes, and an easy smile.

Could she really be a thief?

Yes, Melanie thought. Absolutely.

“Hey, Rita, I need your help on a special project today,” Melanie said. “Would you mind working with me for a while?”

Rita immediately gave her a strange look.

She’s already suspicious, Melanie thought.

“It’s a defense project for the front gate,” Melanie quickly added. “I want to strengthen the hinges and lock, so Cooper and his men can’t ram through it with one of their trucks. I don’t have a design in mind. That’s where your expertise comes in.”

“Well, I’m supposed to keep working with Brian and Josh on the exterior walls,” Rita said. “In case of more grenades. Are you sure it’s okay to pull me away?”

“Yes, I’m making an executive decision on this,” Melanie said. “We’ll grab some of the scrap metal from the production lines and head out there once you get out of the restroom. How does that sound?”

Rita frowned and opened the restroom door. “Well, you’re the boss around here, after all. I don’t usually like being pulled off a job to do some other unplanned thing, but you’ve made the pecking order pretty clear.” And then, as if she realized she’d gone too far, she smiled again and said, “Work is work. As long as I’m contributing and earning my keep, it’s fine with me. Whatever you say, boss.”

And with that, she stepped into the restroom and shut the door behind her, leaving Melanie standing in the hall. Annoyed, but trying not to let it show, Melanie went and grabbed a handcart from the supply closet then approached Brian and Josh to collect some of the scrap metal. They were already getting set up outside the back door, preparing to weld more pieces of metal to the exterior wall. When Melanie grabbed a few pieces off their stack, they both looked at her.

“Ah, so you’re the thief around here,” Josh said, a smirk on his face. “What a shocking twist!”

“No, I need some scraps for another project,” Melanie said. “Rita and I will be working on the front gate this morning. Don’t worry, I’ll return her to you right after lunch.”

“Are you sure?” Brian asked. “If I’m being completely honest, she’s better than me at welding.”

“That’s why I need her,” Melanie said. “This is important.”

She collected a few good-sized pieces of metal taken from the disassembled product lines. After stacking them carefully onto the handcart, she wheeled it back down the hall to the bathroom door just in time to meet Rita.

“I’ll gather my tools and meet you at the gate,” Rita said. “Will we be welding?”

“Eventually, but not right away,” Melanie replied. Indeed, Melanie wanted to put off the welding for a while because it would demand too much of Rita’s attention. She needed the woman to fully participate in conversation while working, at least until some truth had been uncovered.

“Okay, meet you at the gate,” Rita said. “I’m going to grab my tools.”

Rita headed toward the back door, as Melanie pushed the handcart through the building to the front door. In the break room, Nathan, Shona, and Mr. Turner were all sorting food items in the cupboard, while Dusty lounged in the corner. By the time Melanie got outside and headed across the parking lot toward the front gate, Rita was already there, a big toolbox on the ground between her feet.

Melanie produced the key for the front gate lock, though this reminded her all over again about the pilfered keys, and she found herself suddenly fighting a surge of anger. Rita must have read this on her face, as she quickly stepped aside at Melanie’s approach.

“What’s the plan here, boss?” Rita asked.

“I want to wrap some of these metal scraps around the hinges and the lock,” Melanie replied. “That’ll make it harder to knock the gate loose.”

“It’ll also make it harder to open the gate ourselves,” Rita said.

“I’m less worried about that.” Melanie slid the handcart to one side and grabbed the big Master Lock. “We can position it so the gate opens just enough to let a single person squeeze through, and that’ll be fine.”

“So, we’re working outside of the wall?”

“Initially.” Melanie unlocked the gate and slid the latch aside. “We’ll attach some metal to the outside, then attach some more to the inside. What do you think? Will these scraps here work?”

Melanie pointed at the handcart. She’d selected a few long, thick pieces of metal that had come from production machinery. Rita picked over them, lips pursed, then shrugged.

“Yeah, we can make this work,” she said. “It won’t look pretty, but it’ll make it a little harder to knock down the gate, just like you want.”

“Good. That’ll be enough.”

And with that, she flung the gate open, the hinges shrieking in protest. The outside world broke open before her. She saw dead cars on the access road, on the distant interstate, signs of camping, blankets on the ground. On her right, beyond an overgrown field, she saw a small shopping center. Some of the buildings had burned to the ground, and the ones that remained standing were fire damaged. An auto body shop sat on a hilltop, one of the few buildings that was still fully intact.

Before stepping through the open gate, Melanie made sure there weren’t any people in sight. For the time being, the landscape before them appeared lifeless. Rita suddenly started to move past her, and she thrust an arm out to block out her.

“Be careful where you step,” Melanie said. “The ground isn’t safe.”

They had scattered shrapnel on the road and field just beyond the gate. Hundreds of sharp and crooked little pieces of aluminum and glass stuck up just waiting for some tire or foot to impale.

“Yikes,” Rita said. “I’m glad those weren’t here when I first approached the gate. I wouldn’t have thought to look for them.”

“It’s for our friend Cooper and his men. Let’s just say I want to discourage wheeled vehicles from getting too close to the wall.”

“Well, heck, that was a pretty smart idea,” Rita said. “You’re thinking like a real military commander now.”

“I’m afraid I have to.”

Melanie grabbed the handle of the cart and pulled it after her as she stepped through the open gate, moving carefully to avoid the scrap metal scattered on the ground. Rita stooped down and grabbed the handle of her toolbox and followed Melanie outside.

“It’s amazing the difference a wall makes,” Rita noted. “I mean, it’s not like the factory is impregnable. It’s not like someone couldn’t just climb over the wall, even with the barbed wire on top, but somehow it feels like a different world when you look out and see the walls around you. Just stepping through the open gate seems like the most dangerous thing in the world.”

Melanie looked at their surroundings. The world didn’t really look that different, but Rita was right. It felt completely different on the other side of the wall. The danger hung heavily in the air, and suddenly Melanie wanted this task to be over as soon as possible. She reached down and patted the holster in her pocket.

Right now would be a bad time for Cooper to show up, she thought. If he suddenly appeared, would we be able to get back inside and lock the gate before they got in?

“Let’s get done out here as quickly as we can,” she said. “I just want to strengthen the gate. Can we do that fast?”

“Yeah,” Rita replied. “I figure we can bolt some of the metal on either side of the hinges to make them harder to break. Then we’ll bolt another piece of metal across the latch hole here. That’ll make it harder for a vehicle to slam through. Do you approve?”

“Yeah, go for it. Let me know how I can help.”

Rita went right to work, picking through the scrap metal and grabbing tools out of the box. She took charge, giving Melanie instructions along the way. She was intensely focused on the job, and it was clear that she liked being in charge.

“You know, we can actually bar the gate on the inside so that it can’t be fully opened,” she noted, as she attached a piece of scrap metal to the side of a hinge. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Of course, it would mean you can’t drive a vehicle out of here if you need to.”

“Let’s do it,” Melanie replied. “We don’t plan on driving any vehicles out of here. Not this way.”

“Not this way?” Rita echoed. “Are you planning on installing another gate in the wall somewhere, because this appears to be the only way in or out.”

“No, but we’ll be fine,” Melanie said. “Strengthening this gate and making it harder for attackers to get inside is our priority. Leave everything else to me.”

“Well, if you really want me to do this properly, I’ll need the welding torch,” Rita said. “We’ll have to take it from Brian. He might not like that.”

“He’s had it for a while. It’s our turn. Come on. Let’s get back inside.” She beckoned Rita and stepped back through the gate, pulling it shut behind them. Rita set the latch, and Melanie clicked the lock back into place. “I’ll go and get the torch.”

As Rita went to work on the backside of the gate, strengthening the hinges, Melanie went and retrieved the welding torch.

You’re supposed to be interrogating her, she reminded herself. Draw information out somehow. It’ll be awkward, but so what? Just do it. Ask questions, test her. She if she’ll open up.

She found Brian, Josh, and Mr. Turner working on the back wall around the door, welding plates together and bolting them to the wall. They’d done an impressive amount of work, though the end result was quite ugly—a bunch of mismatched scrap metal plates covering the concrete wall like some apocalyptic trash heap.

As Melanie reached for the welding torch, Mr. Turner said, “We still need that.”

“Why don’t you boys take a break,” Melanie said. “Rita and I are borrowing this for a little while.”

Josh and Brian traded a look, and Brian shrugged, dabbing his forehead with his sleeve. They didn’t seem to mind taking a rest.

The welding torch was sitting next to one of the small generators on a pallet jack, and the generator was currently idling. Melanie grabbed the handles and started pushing it back across the parking lot. By the time she returned to the front gate, she found the woman hard at work, twisting bits of scrap metal to the chain links around the latch.

“What’s your plan with the welding torch?” Melanie asked, wheeling the pallet jack up beside the other handcart and setting the brakes.

“I’m going to take the biggest pieces of metal there,” Rita replied, “the ones that came out of the motor, and I’m going to weld them to the back of the gate in such a way that they’ll act as a door stopper. When you swing the gate open about a foot, they’ll extend out far enough to catch against the wall beside the gate and keep it from opening further. It won’t take long.” She turned and gave Melanie a cocky grin, her eyes twinkling. “This is easy stuff here. Just watch me.”

She was very confident. That was clear. But Melanie didn’t get any bad vibe off of her. Yes, she could be pushy and needed to be reined in a little, but nothing in her body language or voice made her seem shifty or sneaky.

Okay, start the interrogation, Melanie told herself.

“So, tell me, Rita, what do you…?”

Just then, Melanie heard footsteps on the parking lot, and she turned around. Shona was coming toward her, moving fast, a pained expression on her face. Melanie’s internal alarm instantly went off.

“What’s happening?” she asked, even as Shona reached her. “Are you okay?”

“Mom, I need to talk to you,” Shona said. “Privately. Right now.”

Melanie glanced at Rita, but Rita shrugged.

“Is it an emergency?” Melanie asked her daughter, grabbing her by the shoulders. “I’m right in the middle of a really important job. Could it wait until later?”

Shona shook her head. “No, it can’t wait. I need to talk to you right now, please.”

“Hey, don’t worry about me,” Rita said. “I’ll need your help when I start welding, but I can finish up other things and then take a little break.” She dabbed sweat off her cheeks and forehead on her glove.

“Okay, Shona, let’s go,” Melanie said, gesturing for her daughter to head back to the front door. “Let’s go somewhere private where we can talk, but it will have to be quick. This project here is important. It’s about our safety.”

But even as she was still talking, Shona started back toward the building. Melanie hesitated only a second before following her. She’d wanted more time with Rita, more time to be sure about this newcomer, but it would have to wait. She swiped her hands against the hips of her jeans and hurried after Shona.

17

As soon as Melanie was through the front door, Shona pushed it shut behind her, leaned against it, and turned. The door and the wall around it were pockmarked now with white caulking from where they’d filled all the shrapnel holes. She heard someone in the break room, a whisper of a page being turned, the slight creak of a chair. Whoever it was, Shona didn’t seem to mind. Still leaning against the front door, as if to prevent Melanie from leaving, she fixed her steely gaze on her mother.

“What did you want to talk about?” Melanie asked. She had a feeling she was about to be scolded, and she tried to preemptively stave off an overreaction. “Whatever it is, we can deal with it calmly, I hope.”

“Dad’s sick,” Shona said. “He’s really sick. I went to his room, and he’s just lying on the bed in there.”

“I know,” Melanie replied. So that’s what it was. She was relieved that it wasn’t some strangeness about Nathan. “I know all about your father.”

“Well, if you know about it, why aren’t we doing something to help him?” Shona asked. “Aren’t you worried about his well-being? Don’t you care? He’s just lying in there all alone while everyone’s outside.”

Melanie sighed. “Of course, I’m worried about him, but Josh is taking care of him. We’re hoping he’ll get better in the next day or so. Until then, we have work to do. We’re not safe right now.” She took a step toward the door, but her daughter held her ground. “I need to go back to work, Shona.”

“No, Mom, you can’t just go back to work,” Shona said. “We have to do something about Dad. He was shut up in his room, like you didn’t even want me to see him. Are you trying to hide him because you don’t want us to know how bad he’s doing?”

Melanie reached out to grab her daughter’s shoulders again, but Shona swiped her hands aside.

“Like I said, Josh is taking care of him,” Melanie said. “I’ve already spoken with him, and we have a treatment plan in place.”

“I talked to Josh, too,” Shona said, tears in her eyes. “I know what’s going on, Mom. You can’t hide anything from me. Josh told me all about it.”

Melanie really didn’t want to deal with this right now. She had to resist the urge to push her daughter, force her way through the door, and return to work.

Why is she acting like I’m neglecting Mark? she thought. We’re taking the most reasonable course of action based on everything that’s happening.

“What did Josh tell you, exactly?” Melanie asked. “There are no big secrets here, Shona. I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you.”

“He told me Dad’s wound might be infected,” Shona said, angrily brushing away tears. “He told me he could have sepsis. And he told me that you decided treat him with other medicine here in the factory instead of trying to get more effective antibiotics at a hospital.”

“All of that is true,” Melanie said. “It’s the best and safest course of action right now.”

“It’s the best course of action to let Dad lie there alone and get sicker and sicker?” Shona’s voice rose until it cracked. She was crying freely now, but she kept angrily swiping the tears off her cheeks. When Melanie reached out to her, intending to comfort her somehow, Shona dodged her hand. “Do you know people can die from sepsis, Mom? They can die.”

“Yes, of course I know, but he’s not that bad yet,” Melanie said. “Give the other medicine a chance to work.”

“He could die while you’re out there working on the gate, and you wouldn’t even know it,” Shona shouted.

Melanie heard the sounds of someone in the next room getting up and leaving the room, walking down the hallway.

“This is our family we’re talking about,” Shona said. “You’re taking a chance with his life! And if something happens to him, I’ll never forgive you for it, and you’ll never forgive yourself. We have to do anything we can to help Dad. Forget about your stupid gate for right now, and let’s go get him whatever he needs!”

Shona was right, of course. If Mark died from the infected wound, Melanie would never forgive herself. On the other hand, if Cooper was able to break through the gate and get inside the building, it wouldn’t much matter how she felt about her choices. At this point, Cooper and his men would almost certainly charge inside shooting, and maybe no one would make it out alive. But Melanie knew if she started saying all of this, she was going to lose her temper. She was right on the precipice of anger. With so many responsibilities to juggle, the last thing she wanted was to be scolded by her daughter.

“Shona I can’t just leave the factory. That will jeopardize everyone’s lives—your life, Shona. If there’s an attack while I’m gone, everyone is doomed. Anyway, Josh says there’s still a good chance that your father’s infection might heal just fine in another day or so.”

“I can’t believe you’d say that,” Shona said. “There’s a chance he might heal, and there’s also a chance he might not! He’s your husband. He’s my father. You’re just going to leave him there in that bed while he’s burning up with fever and wait to see what happens? Josh says we should get antibiotics. He made a recommendation, and you ignored it.”

“The other meds are bringing down the fever,” Melanie said. “His body is fighting the infection. Let’s get the repair work done, get everyone ready for the next attack, and then we can talk about heading outside.”

“You could send one person out there right now,” Shona said. “One person could travel in secret, and that would leave the rest of us here to defend the factory.”

“Who? Who would that one person be? You realize whoever I send out there would be putting their life in greater danger than Mark, so whose life is expendable in your opinion? Who should be willing to die just to increase your father’s chances of recovery?”

Shona started to say something. Her mouth, her lower lip quivered, but then she shut it again and gave her mother a hateful scowl. Melanie started to say something else, something just a little harsher, but Shona brushed past her, intentionally bumping her with her shoulder, and stormed out of the room. Once she was gone, Melanie debated going after her, but then she realized there really wasn’t anything she could say to fix the situation.

When Mark gets better, she’ll calm down, Melanie thought. In the meantime, I have to secure the factory and try to find our resident thief.

And with that, she reached for the doorknob.

* * *

Shona hadn’t been so angry with her mother in a long time—maybe ever—and she was seeing red as she stepped into the break room. The crushing despair somehow fed the anger and made it magnitudes worse. Her pride over the shower project, her happiness at seeing how excited everyone was, even her heartfelt conversation with her mother had all been shattered after finding her father in bed soaked in sweat and red-faced.

Nathan had left the break room at some point while Shona was arguing with her mother. As she passed through the room, she spotted a book on the table. That was for the best. Shona didn’t feel like being around anyone at the moment. In fact, she really wanted to be alone, so she could stew in her thoughts.

Mom cares about this stupid factory more than she does the people in it, she thought. She’s more worried about the building getting attacked than her own husband who is fighting a blood infection that might kill him.

Had her mother, in fact, become just like Derrick Platt? Had she become an obsessed weirdo who only cared about the stuff in the supply closets? Shona never would have believed it until now. As she headed down the hallway, she eased the door to her father’s bedroom open and checked on him. He was in bed, as before, lying under his blanket, and snoring soundly. Shona stood there a moment, seeing his flushed face, and felt angry all over again.

We have to help him, she thought. We have to help him before we worry about anything else.

She gently shut the door and backed away. Of course, there was a measure of guilt, because Shona suspected that the shower project had exacerbated the problem. He’d pushed himself too much.

Hearing someone coming down the back hall, Shona ducked into the library room and shut the door behind her. They kept a couple of flashlights and some candles in the room for reading, but she didn’t bother to use any of them. Indeed, the darkness was more comforting, so she felt her way to the nearest chair and sat down.

Unfortunately, she didn’t get long to bask in her solitude. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and she saw the familiar silhouette of Nathan standing there. She almost told him to go away, but she was afraid to alienate her best and only friend.

“You heard what she said?” Shona asked.

“Yeah,” Nathan replied. “Do you mind if I come in there with you?”

“Go ahead, but no lights, please. My face is probably all blotchy now. I hate how I look when I’ve been crying.”

Nathan stepped through the door and shut it again, plunging them both into utter darkness. She heard him cross the room and take the seat beside her. Then she felt his arm slip around her shoulders. She was comforted by the touch, so she leaned against him. At least he was fresh and clean now.

“Well, if you heard everything, then you know my mom has lost her mind,” Shona said. “My dad is in there burning up with fever from his infected gunshot wound. The only guy with medical experience around here says, ‘Hey, we need a better antibiotic. Let’s go to the nearest hospital.’ And Mom says, ‘Nah, I’m too busy welding chunks of metal to the gate. My husband will just have to get over it.’”

Regurgitating all of the bitterness felt so satisfying, but she had to keep herself from getting too worked up. Her voice was getting loud, and she didn’t want anyone in the hall to overhear.

“Maybe she doesn’t believe the doctor about how serious the infection is,” Nathan suggested.

“She believes it. She admitted it,” Shona replied. “But she doesn’t care. All she cares about is protecting the factory and all of the stuff inside that she basically stole from your dad.”

At that, Nathan got quiet for a few seconds. She thought maybe she had offended him, or ripped open the wound, but then he sighed and said, “Funny you should mention my dad. Melanie is starting to remind me of him a little bit. She’s getting too obsessed with the stuff in this factory, I think.”

Hearing him echo her exact thought was shocking, but it made her feel so much closer to him. Not only did he agree with her, but he validated her own feelings. She snuggled up against him and put her head against his chest.

“I’m afraid you’re right,” she said. Yet admitting it out loud filled her with a terrible stomach-churning dread. Somehow, it made it all seem more real. Her mother was becoming Derrick Platt! Shona soon found herself trembling at the thought.

Part of her resisted the realization. No, it’s not true. You’re wrong. Your mom isn’t like that. That other part of her desperately needed to give her mother an out.

“Maybe…maybe she’s just really stressed out,” Shona suggested. “She’s basically the leader around here. Maybe it’s more difficult than she lets on. I could see how that might skew her judgment, you know? Like, she can’t think straight because there are so many different things to worry about. I know my mother, and she would never just leave my father like that if she was thinking straight.”

“I hope you’re right,” Nathan said, “because my dad just got worse and worse over the years. I never really liked him, but then I couldn’t stand him, and eventually I hated him. Anyway, you know your mom better than I do.”

“I have to believe that she’s trying to keep everyone safe and just making some poor decisions along the way,” Shona said. “I have to believe she’s not willing to put my father’s life in danger just to protect the stuff in the supply room. Nathan, I have to believe that. Otherwise, what’s the point of anything anymore?”

She felt the sting of tears again. Nathan just held her in his awkward, sincere way, his arms wrapped around her at a slightly strange angle.

“I hope you’re right,” he said again. “By the end, I didn’t even recognize my father. He was just some crazy weirdo who yelled at me all the time. I hardly felt anything when he died. It’s like he’d already died a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Shona said. She wasn’t even sure why she said it. Lizzy was the one who’d killed Derrick.

“Don’t apologize,” Nathan said. “You never did anything wrong. My only suggestion is that you do what you think is right, no matter what your mom says. Trust yourself. You’re the most normal person around here, and there’s not even a close second.”

“Well, for now I’m going to trust that Mom means well,” Shona replied. “For now. But we’ll see how it goes with Dad.”

18

The conversation with Shona had put Melanie in an ever-fouler mood, and she found it hard to concentrate for the rest of the day. As Rita continued to work, Melanie just moped, lingering in the background, though she knew it was setting a bad example. Actually, Rita seized on the opportunity and took charge of the project, occasionally telling Melanie what to do and how to help.

What if Shona is right? That was the thought that kept distracting her. What if my priorities are all screwed up, and I’m letting Mark die?

As the next hour passed, Melanie found herself sinking deeper and deeper into the gloom. The gate looked great. Not only had Rita strengthened it on both sides, but she’d installed some impressive restricting rods that prevented it from being opened more than about a foot and a half, and somehow she’d done it in a way that looked great. Of course, it had used up much of the fuel in the generator, but they had more in storage.

“Well, what do you think?”

Rita’s voice jolted Melanie out of her gloomy place. She’d been standing to one side for a few minutes, hands on her hips. She blinked, rubbed her face, and looked at Rita.

“I said, what do you think?”

Melanie appraised the work on the gate again and nodded. “Impressive work. I think that’ll do.”

“It’ll have to,” Rita replied, “because we used up all of the scrap metal on the cart.”

Of course, there was a lot more work to be done. The walls of the factory, especially around the other doors, still had to be reinforced thoroughly. Even so, Melanie’s sense of accomplishment at finishing the gate was short lived. Glancing around, she realized it was sometime in the early afternoon, and she could no longer hear the others working around the back door.

“I guess we should break for lunch,” she said. “Maybe the others have already gone inside.”

Rita was setting the tools back into the toolbox. Then she laid the welding torch and helmet onto the pallet jack. Melanie was sinking back into the gloom when Rita gave her an annoyed look and gestured at the handcart, as if to say, “Are you going to help here?”

Melanie grabbed the handles of the handcart and began pushing it back toward the building, as Rita grabbed the pallet jack.

I didn’t really learn anything about Rita, she thought. I don’t see anything suspicious in her behavior, but then again, I didn’t try hard to question her. Shona got me lost in my own thoughts.

Though she intended to take the handcart back to the factory floor where it belonged, she was in such a bad mood that she wound up parking it in the reception area. Rita followed her example, setting the pallet jack with the generator and welding gear beside it. People had already gathered in the break room for lunch. Brian, Lizzy, Josh, and Mr. Turner were sitting around the tables, as Dusty lay in the corner. Lunch consisted of some canned foods—corn, beans, chipped beef—that had been warmed up on the stove. Judging by the residue on a plate in the corner, it looked like Dusty had been given some as well.

Mr. Turner beckoned to the seat beside him, and Melanie sat down. Rita wound up beside Josh and Brian on the other side of the table. The food smelled pretty good, especially the chipped beef, but Melanie had lost her appetite. Still, she forced herself to grab a plate and scooped a bit of each item onto it.

“Where are Shona and Nathan?” Melanie asked. “Did they already eat?”

“They refused to come to lunch,” Mr. Turner said, jabbing his fork into his chipped beef. “I tried to reason with them, said they needed the vitamins to stay healthy, but they wouldn’t budge. Do you want to go and get them?”

“No, I guess not,” Melanie said with a sigh, scooping up some corn. “They can eat later.”

“Are they upset about something?” Mr. Turner asked.

Instead of answering, Melanie decided to change the subject. She knew it was rude, and risked hurting her father’s feelings, but she couldn’t help herself. “Lizzy, how is your little project coming along?”

“Just fine,” Lizzy replied.

“And you’re feeling better?”

Lizzy patted her stomach. “I’m not lingering in the bathroom, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Melanie nodded and made herself eat. Indeed, she’d found a rather important project for Lizzy to work on that she thought might keep her mind off her mother’s death. Melanie hadn’t told the others about it yet, and with Rita and Brian around, she didn’t want to mention it until Lizzy had finished the work.

The room was quieter than usual, tense, as people ate. Rita occasionally leaned over and muttered to Brian, who either nodded or shrugged in reply. But for a while, no one spoke openly. Somehow, this was worse than being pestered with questions. It made the gloom rise up around Melanie. She put up with it as long as she could.

“Brian, how’s the back door and wall coming along?” she asked. She’d managed to shovel half her food into her mouth, though she’d scarcely tasted it.

“We’ve got panels up all around the door itself,” Brian said. “If there’s another blast in the same location, it should at least keep the wall from buckling, and maybe catch some of the shrapnel.”

Melanie nodded and resumed eating, but she was sunk deep in the gloom now. The image of Mark lying on his cot, his cheeks and forehead flushed. The sound of Shona’s hateful voice, tears in her eyes. She couldn’t shake them.

Finally, she could take it no longer. She polished off the rest of her food in three big, stomach-turning bites, and excused herself. As the others continued to enjoy their meal, she left the room and headed down the hall. Fortunately, no one asked her where she was going or why she was in such a hurry. Clearly, her mood was evident to all.

She eased the door open to the bedroom, where a couple of candles on a shelf provided a small amount of light. Mark was lying on his cot, a plate of half-eaten chipped beef and corn on the stool beside him. Josh must have tried to feed him. Realizing this, and confronting her own neglect, Melanie felt crushed with guilt.

“Mark, honey, are you awake?” she asked.

He was on his side, facing the wall, but at the sound of her voice, he rolled onto his back and looked at her. He even managed a smile, though he was sweating so much he appeared to be melting.

“The air is stale and muggy in here,” she noted. “We should put you in a room that has some air passing through.”

“Where would that be?” he replied. His voice was creaky. “Out on the factory floor? Plenty of air moving around in there. No thanks. I’ll stay here.”

She picked up the plate of food and sat down on the stool, scooting in close. “Did you get enough to eat?”

“Not really hungry,” he replied. “Chipped beef is like eating slivers of plastic.”

Melanie grabbed his hand, and she was shocked at how hot he felt. “Has Josh been taking care of you?”

“Yeah, he pops his head in from time to time,” he replied. “Usually to take my temperature and administer some new medicine. I don’t even know what he’s giving me.”

She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. The guilt was almost unbearable.

I left him in here alone all day, she thought, and he’s so much worse than before.

As if he sensed her feeling, he attempted a smile and said, “Hey, I think maybe I’m at least a little better. Just let me rest another day or two, and I’ll be up and dashing about.”

“Maybe so,” she said. “Don’t push yourself, okay? Just take it easy.”

“If you insist.”

She bent down and kissed him on the cheek. “Hey, I’m going to talk to Josh and see what he has to say. Do you need anything right now?”

“Nope, your kiss was enough,” he said, with a big, goofy grin. “Thanks.”

She patted his hand and rose, still bearing the plate of half-eaten food in one hand. “I love you. I’ll be back.”

“I love you too,” he replied.

She left the room and gently closed the door behind her. When she got back to the break room, people were cleaning up after dinner. Brian was helping Josh clean dishes in a bucket of water, so she moved to join them.

“He’s not well,” she said to Josh, setting Mark’s plate on the counter.

“His fever has gotten worse,” Josh replied, picking up the plate and dumping the uneaten food in a trash can. “I’m trying everything I can think of.”

“You’ve done enough,” Melanie replied.

She glanced around to see who else was within hearing range. Mr. Turner was wiping down the table, and Lizzy was gone. Dusty was sniffing around on the floor and eating the stray food that had fallen. Finally, Melanie leaned in close to Brian.

“Okay, Brian, you were out there on the road for a few weeks,” she said. “Do you happen to know where the nearest pharmacy might be? I mean, a pharmacy that hasn’t been looted into oblivion.”

He gave her a pensive look as he wiped a plate clean with a rag. “Actually, now that you mention it, I do recall seeing a drug store up the road about ten or twelves miles. It hadn’t been looted. In fact, it was still open for business, with some armed guards at the door. Most of the open businesses have armed guards these days.”

“Do you remember where it was?” she asked. “I mean, could you find your way there again, if you had to?”

He thought for a second, his eyes narrowed, as if tracing the route in his mind. “Yeah, it was out of the way, in this little shopping center behind a gas station. If you head northwest on the interstate, look for the big gas station sign, and that’s your exit.”

“You could sketch me a map?”

He nodded. “I’m sure I could.”

Now that she was actually thinking about doing this, now that the possibility was very real, she felt a quivering fear deep in her belly. The idea of leaving the factory compound filled her with an intense dread. Ten or twelve miles on foot was going to take hours, especially if she was trying to be stealthy. Melanie almost couldn’t stand it. And yet she saw no other option now. Mark’s life was on the line, and she’d let other things distract her for far too long.

“Josh, do you suppose a drug store like that would have some kind of antibiotic that might help Mark?” she asked.

“It’s possible,” Josh replied. “If they’re open, I assume they’re running on generator power during limited hours. Some medications have to be refrigerated, but others don’t. I could make you a list of what to look for. It’s worth a try. You should go.”

“I agree,” Brian said. “I wouldn’t put it off much longer. This is your husband we’re talking about here.”

Melanie sighed and leaned against the counter. She hadn’t felt such profound stress and anxiety since the dark days of her childhood. For a minute, she just stood there, her hands pressed to the countertop, and felt it wash over her in skin-crawling waves. Leaving the factory!

How much time does Mark have left at this rate? You can’t afford to wait any longer.

“If I leave, so many big projects will come to a standstill,” she said. “We have to keep working on the defenses.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Brian said. “I’ll help keep the work going here in the factory, and I’ll keep an eye on Rita. In fact, I’d be happy to. You’ve fed us, given us a place to lie down at night. It’s more important for you to get out there and save your husband. Leave the rest to us.”

And that was it. Her way out. Brian would keep the work going, which meant if she left the factory for a while, everything wouldn’t come to a screeching halt. Though she’d just met Brian only a couple of days earlier, he seemed trustworthy.

“Well, I think that settles it, then,” she said. “Mark isn’t getting any better. I have to go. Brian, you’d better draw me that map.”

“No problem,” he said, setting down his rag and adding another clean plate to the stack. “I won’t lead you astray.”

* * *

As it turned out, Brian had a draftsman’s skill at creating maps. He quickly sketched some very precise-looking streets, including the interstate, and meticulously noted a number of key locations along the way, then added a list of the meds that Josh had requested. As Melanie pored over the drawing, she tried to visualize the route in her head. Roughly ten miles to the northwest, just off the highway. How long would it take to walk that distance? Normally, a few hours, but she would need to move as quietly as possible.

She folded the map and tucked it into her jacket pocket. When she looked up, she saw Mr. Turner and Josh standing before her. Shona and Nathan were standing back by the wall. Melanie hadn’t said much to her daughter since deciding to leave, but when she returned with the antibiotics, all would be mended anyway.

“Food, water, weapons,” Mr. Turner said. “You have plenty of each?”

Melanie patted the plastic canteen hanging at her hip. Then she touched the straps of her backpack, which contained MREs and some water purification tablets—but mostly empty space to hold the drugs. Finally, her fingers brushed the plastic holster of the Beretta PX4 in her pocket. She also had the Glock 19 in a side pocket of the backpack with additional boxes of ammo.

“Look, I don’t want any tearful goodbyes eating up my time,” she said. “I’m just leaving now. There’s a long road ahead.”

“You got it, boss,” Josh said. “No tears here.”

They were standing in the reception area, and she looked around. In that moment, the anxiety rose up again in a great swell, and she was almost smothered by it.

Am I really leaving the factory? Am I really going out in that crazy world? For Mark’s sake. yes.

Better to get it done before the second thought won out.

“Are you sure you don’t want someone to go with you?” Mr. Turner said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I could grab the shotgun and my own canteen.”

“No, sir, that’s okay,” Melanie said. “I’ll travel more stealthily by myself, and it’ll be faster.” She opened the door, hesitated only a moment, then backed through it. “I’m going. I plan to be back before sunset, but don’t send anyone after me if I’m running late. It’s not safe.”

“You can’t ask us not to come looking for you,” Mr. Turner said.

“I can, and I am,” she said. “I’ll make it back here, even if it takes longer than I expect. Wait for me. Stay safe behind the walls, no matter what.”

And with that, she started to leave, but Shona suddenly rushed forward. “Mom, be safe. Please, be safe.”

Melanie embraced her daughter, but only for a moment before gently pushing her back. “Help keep an eye on your father. If I have to hide from enemies, it may take a lot longer, so don’t panic if I’m not back by nightfall.”

And with that, she stepped away and let the door swing shut. Brian and Rita were standing in front of the gate. Brian seemed to be inspecting the work that had been done. Already, he was as good as his word, exerting some leadership over Rita. Melanie started toward them when she heard footsteps coming around the corner. Lizzy appeared from the direction of the back door, still wearing work gloves, a dusty knit cap pulled over her head. She glanced at Brian and Rita before rushing over to Melanie’s side.

“So, you were just going to sneak off and leave me working down there without so much as a fare-thee-well?” Lizzy asked.

“You’re busy,” Melanie replied, “and your work is important. What good will another goodbye do for either of us?”

“Don’t trust anyone out there beyond the gate,” Lizzy said. “Don’t talk to other travelers. Just get where you’re going and hurry back.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Melanie said. She beckoned Lizzy closer and said, quietly, “Speaking of not trusting people, keep an eye on Brian and Rita for me, would you? I think Brian’s okay, but I can’t be sure. Rita might be a problem.”

“I’ve got it,” Lizzy said. “We’ll all be watching them closely. Don’t worry about anything except getting back here intact. Got it?” She made a shooing gesture with her hands. “Now, get out there.”

“I’m going.” She waved at her friend and headed away.

As she approached the gate, Brian grabbed the latch, worked it open, then pulled the gate open for her. Rita’s sturdy blockers only allowed it to open just enough for a single person to squeeze through before it gave a satisfying clunk.

“Follow the highway, but don’t walk directly on the highway,” Brian said, holding the gate for her. “That’s my recommendation. They target people walking on the highway. There are police out there, believe it or not, but they’re hard to find when you really need them.”

“Got it,” Melanie said, approaching the open gate. “Don’t let anyone inside the factory. When I get back, confirm it’s me before you open the gate. Is that clear?”

“Will do,” Brian said. “Don’t worry. Everything is in good hands at the moment. Just hurry back.”

Rita was standing to one side, a weird little smile on her face. Did she find all of this amusing? Maybe she was glad to have Melanie out of the way for a while, so she could be her real bossy self? Either way, Melanie found it incredibly annoying at the moment, and she had to resist the urge to say something rude. At least work would continue while she was gone. Brian would see to the gate and the walls. Lizzy was working on her own little project. Melanie tried to focus on this fact as she stepped through the gap.

“Stay safe out there among all the baddies,” Rita said.

Melanie glanced back and saw Rita through the gap. The newcomer gave her a little wink. Before Melanie could respond, Brian pushed the gate shut and set the latch. With a sigh, Melanie grabbed the straps of her backpack and set off down the access road toward the highway, picking her way through the field of shrapnel as she set a brisk pace.

Just get this done as fast as possible, she told herself. Don’t think. Don’t worry. Just get it done, for Mark’s sake.

19

Melanie awoke with the taste of asphalt on her tongue, and she thrashed on the unyielding bed. Her hand groped for a blanket to pull over her, but her fingers only scrabbled against a hard surface, digging into tiny pits and grooves and finding only dust. When she finally opened her eyes, she saw afternoon sunlight shining on the chrome accent of a dented red car door.

Oh, God, I fell asleep, she realized. I sat down to take a little break, and I fell asleep!

When she rolled onto her back, she saw the blue sky overhead and realized all over again where she was. It was still afternoon. That was a good sign. She hadn’t slept all night. She rose, feeling an ache in her back and a crick in her neck. She’d stumbled to a stop in a relatively hidden spot on the shoulder of the access road. Two cars, joined at a right angle by their bumpers, had provided a good amount of cover. Still, she’d fallen asleep on the gravel-strewn shoulder, and she’d paid a price for it.

Her mind muddled with sleep, she felt anxiety wash over her as she grabbed her backpack and dragged it toward her. She was so far from the safety and security of the factory walls, and she felt the wild, hostile world stretching out around her. She retrieved the Beretta and holster from a side pocket and slid them into her jacket. Then she pulled the straps of the backpack over her shoulders and stood up.

As she rose above the level of the cars, she saw the road stretching off in both directions, and the interstate on a slight rise in the distance. Melanie stooped down to grab her canteen, then unscrewed the lid and took a small swig—just enough water to moisten her dry mouth and throat. After she clipped the canteen to her belt, she pulled out Brian’s map and examined it. No trace of the big gas station sign yet. That meant she still had quite a way to go.

She shoved the map back into her jacket pocket and stepped out from behind the crashed cars. It was a moment that caused her fear to surge, and she drew the Beretta out of her pocket. She expected to see strangers moving on the road. Maybe Cooper’s men roaring back to the factory. However, thus far, she hadn’t seen a working vehicle, or another living soul.

I’ve already been gone far too long, she thought. I walked for a couple of hours, then slept for who knows how long? What’s happening in the factory? Are people still safe? Still working? Still getting along?

As she walked along, she found herself daydreaming about the days of cell phones. How amazing that it had once been so easy to get in touch with people. The world felt a lot bigger now, so much space between people and places. The factory might as well have been on the other side of the world.

Of course, she knew that a handgun probably wasn’t enough to save her if she was overtaken by a group of armed men. Better to try to stay as inconspicuous as possible. To do this, she kept to the shoulder of the access road, ready to duck into the nearby ditch if need be, and she veered behind vehicles. This slowed her down considerably.

After another hour or so of slow walking, she saw a large warehouse in the distance. Something was wrong with it. As she got closer, she realized a large roll-up door had been forced open. It was broken and hanging at an angle, and there were broken pallets and overturned cardboard boxes scattered in front of it. Then movement caught her eye, and she realized people were walking in the shadows of the open door. They looked like miserable, bedraggled folks, filthy and desperate as they picked through the few items that remained.

Not wanting to be seen by these people, Melanie moved down into the ditch, well out of sight. This slowed her even more. However, she pressed on, and the morning slowly passed, minute by minute. She’d brought food, but thus far, she hadn’t eaten anything. The anxiety of being outside the walls had robbed her of her appetite.

A short time later, she spotted a group of people gathered around the open side door of a full-size van. They’d set up a blanket on some long PVC pipes to create a crude shelter from the sun. It looked like a family, two parents and two kids. But the children were listless, dull-eyed and sitting on the carpeted floor just inside the van door. The man had a rifle across his lap, the woman clutched a large hunting knife in her hand. Were they living here now? In a stalled van in the middle of the road?

They could see her in the ditch. She had nowhere to go to get out of their eyeline. Melanie lowered her gun and held it behind her hip so they wouldn’t see it. Briefly, she made eye contact with the woman, but Melanie saw a deadness there. These poor people had given up hope. Melanie picked up her pace as best she could to get past them, then eased back up onto the shoulder of the road.

The world seemed to be less a haunt of bandits than it was a wasteland of the broken and wretched. Somehow, this made her feel worse about it all. Is this what would become of her family if they were cast out of Beaton’s? She envisioned Shona and Mark picking through trash in a looted warehouse, dirty and dead-eyed, and it filled her with such dread that she shook with it.

Another hour passed before she saw another living creature. This time, it was a stray dog. Some kind of black lab mix, it was sniffing around a dead vehicle up ahead, but when it caught Melanie’s scent, it rose up suddenly and looked at her. She expected it to come running, an abandoned pet desperate for human contact. Instead, it barked and took off running, moving with a slight limp as it headed off the road and into a weed-choked field.

Melanie dared another sip of water. She even poured a small amount in her cupped hand and rubbed it on her face to get some of the road dust off. When she wiped the water out of her eyes, she saw a strange object far in the distance, rising above the highway like a beacon. She dared to ascend to the interstate to get a better look at it. And there she saw it clearly. The red and yellow sign of a truck stop just off the highway another mile ahead.

Melanie pulled out Brian’s map to double-check the name of the place. He had sketched the sign: Pilot Travel Center. That was it. Melanie looked back behind her and saw the interstate stretching off in the direction of Knoxville. Beaton’s was no longer in sight, and Melanie felt a pang of loneliness.

This is what it feels like to be agoraphobic, she thought. I have come to depend on those four walls.

But she was closer to her destination than ever. She grabbed the straps of her backpack, pulled them tight against her shoulders, and took off at a jog. She was stiff and sore from trying to sleep on the road, so jogging felt especially uncomfortable.

At one point, she spotted what she was pretty sure were two coyotes crossing the road ahead of her. They looked in her direction, and she reached for the gun, but they just kept going.

Nature is laying claim to the land once again, she thought.

Unfortunately, the gas station sign proved to be farther away than it seemed. By the time the exit came into sight, late afternoon was edging toward evening, and the eastern sky was already taking on a purple hue.

Following Brian’s map, she walked down the exit ramp and took a side road past the gas station. Just as the map indicated, there was a small shopping center down the road, and right in the middle, dominating the space, was a drug store. Cherman Pharmacy, the big blue sign proclaimed. As she approached, she didn’t see any armed guards in front, however. She saw no customers, no line of people waiting to get inside. She saw no one at all.

When she reached the parking lot, she discovered that one of the windows in front was shattered, glass strewn on the floor beyond. The store was dark, but she could tell even from a distance that it had been looted. Her heart sank. Someone had come for the drugs, after all, and perhaps the place had shut down completely as a result.

I should have come here sooner, she thought. The looting looks like it happened recently. Maybe just a day ago. Damn me for wasting time on other projects.

As she approached the shattered window, she drew the Beretta and flicked off the safety. She paused just outside the store, holding her breath and listening. She heard nothing from inside. It was utterly quiet beyond the window. Since she was losing the light, she slipped inside, careful not to scrape a jagged edge of the broken glass.

The store was arranged with aisles of general merchandise on the right, shelves containing snacks, drinks, and toiletries. Some of this stuff had been taken, but not much. Clearly, these had not been the target of the looters. The pharmacy was on the left against the far wall, and she made her way toward it, stepping carefully, her gun held at the ready. She pushed through a low gate into the pharmacy and started down the first aisle.

She was relieved to find that the looters had been selective. The shelves hadn’t been picked clean. Instead there were many gaping holes where specific drugs had been taken. As Melanie read the shelf labels, she realized they had prioritized strong pain killers and cold medicine. Indeed, every single container of cough medicine was gone. At first, she was confused by this. Was there some sort of epidemic of the common cold? Then she remembered these kinds of medicines were used to make meth, and it was no surprise to discover that there was a big market for meth in the post-apocalypse.

Most of the other drugs were still on the shelves. Melanie pulled the backpack off her shoulders, unzipped the large pocket with her teeth, and started down the aisle. She looked for the specific names of antibiotics that Josh had jotted down for her. She didn’t limit herself to the list, however. She grabbed anything that seemed like it might be useful, prioritizing asthma inhalers for Lizzy and any kind of antibiotic. She shoved as much medicine into the backpack as she could fit, then struggled to zip it up.

This is only half the job, she reminded herself, tempering her excitement. Now, you have to get all of this stuff safely back to the warehouse in time to save Mark.

She slipped the backpack over her shoulders again, drew the Beretta, and started back across the pharmacy. As she stepped through the gate, a sudden sound made her freeze. A heavy footfall crunching on glass. The sound was unmistakable, and she ducked down.

Soon, she heard another footstep, and another. Then whispered voices. Melanie crept behind a large display of reading glasses and strained to hear what they were saying. However, she couldn’t make out the words. At least two people talking softly. They were close enough that unless they’d been in the store already, they must have been following her. They would have seen her walking down the road and crossing the parking lot. Maybe they were trying to sneak up on her now.

Melanie reached and pulled one pair of reading glasses off the display. Then she drew her arm back and threw them as far as she could. The eyeglasses sailed over the display cases and over the cash registers before crashing into the glass doors of the drugstore with a loud bang.

Before the glasses could hit the floor, someone opened fire. Gunshots shattered the glass front door, four shots in quick succession. The broken glass fell in a glorious cascade onto the floor in front of the cash registers. Melanie took advantage of the noise and chaos, dashing toward the back of the store, staying low. In the back corner, a large swinging door led into the offices, and she pushed through it, even as glass continued to tumble across the floor.

Heart pounding, breath roaring in her ears, she ran through the dark office space toward a door that was barely visible in the shadows. When she reached it, she hit the crash bar with her forearm and flung it open, revealing a small gravelly lot behind the drugstore and a field beyond. In the middle of the field, rising from the wild grass, with a pale snout and large eyes, was a full-grown coyote. It stared at her for a moment as she stepped outside, then quickly dashed out of sight.

As the back door swung shut, Melanie heard people running through the drugstore, their heavy shoes or boots pounding on the hard floor. One of them spoke then, a rough voice.

“You don’t waste bullets shooting at noises! Wait until you see the whites of her eyes!”

They sounded so close. Too close. Melanie raced across the gravel lot toward the field, headed in the same direction as the coyote. Right now, armed men were a lot scarier than a skittish wild animal. She pushed into the high grass, moving at a desperate pace. The evening light made it hard to see the terrain clearly, and suddenly she took a step onto ground that wasn’t there. As she fell, she realized she’d reached some kind of small embankment.

She landed on her knees, flopped forward onto her chest, and proceeded to tumble down the steep slope until she ended up on her back in a muddy puddle, feeling bruised and battered. When she sat up, she discovered that she was in a storm drain, which hid her from the back of the store. She’d dropped the Beretta in the fall, and she hunted around on the ground until she found it sitting in the muddy water. She shook the water off as best she could and picked herself up.

Just ahead, the storm drain entered a large culvert that passed beneath the shopping center. Melanie made her way toward it and duck-walked into the tunnel, where utter darkness consumed her. She was out of breath and aching, but she made as little noise as possible. Would the men follow her this far? Surely not. Surely, they had come for the drugs, and they would return to their business soon enough.

However, after a minute or so, she heard their voices coming from above the embankment. She cupped a hand behind her ear to make out the words.

“I don’t get it,” the rough-voiced man said. “Cooper told us she would be here. Cherman Drugs. That’s where she was going to be.”

“Anything could have happened,” said the second man. He had a deep, dangerous voice. The voice of a very large man. “Maybe we got bad intel. I don’t see anyone. I’m not convinced we heard a human being running around in the store. I think it might’ve been a coyote or something.”

“I don’t know about that,” said the first man. “I’m pretty sure a person threw something at us back there.”

“Well, if so, she vanished into thin air. I say it was bad intel. Let’s get back to camp. I’m not crawling around in the dark looking for a person who might not exist.”

One of them flicked a cigarette butt over the embankment. Melanie saw the glittering sparks as it sailed down into the storm drain. It hit the ground, bounced, and rolled up next to her shoe. She resisted the urge to step on it. If the men had looked closer, they might have spotted the drainage tunnel, but instead, she soon heard them moving away again.

She hunkered down in the tunnel, leaning her back against the curved wall. And there she stayed. Long after the sound of the men had faded. She took slow breaths and tried not to make a sound as time passed. After what felt like two or three hours, she finally rose and crept out of the tunnel. The night was very dark now, the sky splashed with an impressive array of stars.

They knew I was going to be at the pharmacy, she thought. Someone sold me out.

She went cold at the realization, and in her mind’s eye, she saw Rita smirking and winking at her through the open gate. Of course it was Rita. Who else would it be?

As she started back toward the highway, trying to stay out of sight, she felt a mounting anger. She would not be stopping tonight. No matter how dark it got, she was going to get back to the factory as soon as possible, before the rage consumed her.

“That damned wink,” she muttered, still clutching the gun, holding it tightly. “It was that damned wink. Rita sold me out. She thought I was headed off to my death.”

* * *

The factory wall emerged from the gloom in the first pink light of morning. Melanie saw the imposing edifice of Beaton’s Food Factory rising above, a pale fortress standing tall in the middle of the wasteland. The additions to the front gate were visible from a distance, dark metal twisted around the hinges and the latch. The shrapnel on the ground in front of the gate, however, was not. Good. They had planted it well.

Despite walking all night, Melanie was still seething. Blind to her own needs, she had let the enemy inside the factory. As she approached the gate, she began waving her free hand over her head, hoping to catch the attention of anyone who might be watching from the upstairs window. She stopped before she reached the field of shrapnel and waited.

When waving her hand didn’t draw anyone, she finally picked her way past the shrapnel to the locked gate and began tapping on it loudly with the handle of the Beretta. She kept this up for a good fifteen minutes or more before she heard the faint creak of the factory’s front door.

“Mel, oh my God, is that you?” Lizzy’s voice.

“Yes, let me in quick,” Melanie said.

She heard Lizzy fumbling with the lock, heard the sliding of the latch. And then the gate swung inward until it slammed against the blocker that Rita had installed. Melanie saw Lizzy’s wide-eyed face peering through the gap. She seemed terrified.

“Mel, where have you been?” she said. “You were gone so long! We’re all freaking out in here. Did you get the drugs?”

Melanie slipped through the gap and pushed past her friend, letting the rattling of pills in the overfilled backpack answer the question for her. “Where’s Rita? Where is she? I have to see her right now. I have to talk to her.”

Lizzy grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. As Melanie turned back, her friend grabbed both of her shoulders and held her fast.

“Mel, everything went to hell while you were gone,” Lizzy said. “Brian is gone. He vanished into thin air not long after you left. No one can find him anywhere, so we assume he left the factory.”

“And Rita?” Melanie asked.

“We’ve got her tied up in Derrick’s office,” Lizzy said. “Dad caught her stealing weapons out of the gun cabinet in the supply closet.”

Melanie bit her lower lip so hard she tasted blood. Shaking with anger, she reached up and swiped her lips on her sleeve.

“Take me to her,” she said through clenched teeth. “Take me to Rita right now.”

20

The anger was quickly curdling into a dangerous, violent desire, and Melanie struggled to get hold of herself as Lizzy led her down the hall toward the back stairs. For the moment, she thought of nothing else, not even Mark. The stuffed backpack was still hanging heavily from her shoulders and rattling with dozens of pill bottles, but all of her thoughts were bent on Rita now.

“Why would Brian just disappear all of a sudden?” Lizzy asked, struggling to keep pace with her. “As far as we can tell, he didn’t take anything.”

“Rita’s going to tell us,” Melanie replied. “She’s going to tell us everything. Trust me. I’ll work the full truth out of her.”

They encountered Josh in the back hallway. He was coming out of one of the supply closets, a clipboard in his hand. When he saw Melanie, he did a double take and came to a stop.

“You’re back,” she said. “Honestly, Mel, I thought we’d never see you again!”

“I’m going up to see her,” Melanie said, turning toward the stairs. “Is anyone up there with her at the moment?”

“We caught her early this morning,” Josh said, falling in beside her. “She’s been up in the office ever since. Mr. Turner is up there with her. He’s got a gun on her, but she won’t talk. She just sits there and scowls at everyone, like she’s lost her mind.”

“She’ll talk for me,” Melanie said.

She started up the stairs, her legs aching with each step. The Beretta was still in her hand, but she set the safety and shoved it back into the holster. Better not to make any rash decisions. Rita wouldn’t be able to answer any questions if Melanie lost her temper and put a bullet between her eyes. Josh and Lizzy were behind her on the stairs, and when Melanie looked back, she saw Shona, Nathan, and Dusty come through the double doors from the factory floor.

“Mom!” Shona cried. “When did you get here? Oh my gosh!”

Melanie put a finger to her lips. No time for tearful reunions now.

“Lizzy, what happened while I was gone?” she asked, pausing halfway up the stairs. “When did you realize something was wrong?”

“I was keeping my eye on the newcomers,” Lizzy said. “Just like you told me to. I stepped back inside for a couple of minutes. Bathroom break, you know, with my upset stomach and all. That’s it. When I came back, Brian was gone. It was like he’d just disappeared. I assumed he’d circled around to a back door, but when I asked Rita about it, she just feigned ignorance. Something about her was sketchy though. Something about her has always been sketchy to me.” Lizzy shrugged. “Then Josh found her in the supply closet later, and that was it.”

“Is she fully secured now?” Melanie asked. “Is there any way she can break free?”

“She’s handcuffed to an old pipe in a corner of the room,” Josh said. “I don’t think she’s going anywhere. Shouldn’t we meet to discuss things before you go up there? You need to fill us in on your journey.”

Melanie considered the situation. Her anger made her want to march right up to Rita and start forcing information out of her, but maybe Josh was right. In her exhausted and furious state of mind, she was bound to take things too far, and then they might miss out on learning something important. She glanced up at the office door, felt the temptation again, then started down the stairs.

“Okay, okay,” she said, trying to get hold of herself. She pulled the backpack off her shoulders and held it up. “This is all the medication I managed to steal from the pharmacy. Find what you need and administer it to Mark.” She passed the backpack to Josh, who took it in his arms. “The rest of you, meet me in the break room. We’ll figure out what to do about Rita and Brian together.”

Josh quickly unzipped the big pocket and dug around inside the pool of pill bottles. “There’s some good stuff in here,” he said, as Melanie brushed past him. “I think you just increased his odds of pulling through significantly.”

Melanie felt a moment of relief, but it was quickly smothered by her anger. Still, she had the presence of mind to grab the doctor by the shoulder and gently turn him around.

“Please go administer a dose of whatever new meds you think Mark needs,” she said. “I have to…” With her free hand, she gripped her forehead. The anger made her feel feverish. “I have to talk through this before I do anything else. It was a long night.”

She made her way back down the hall, trying to calm herself as she went. As she passed her bedroom, Josh stepped through the door, and she caught a glimpse of her husband. He was asleep, snoring softly, but he looked terrible. The room reeked of sickness and staleness. Mark had flung his blanket back, and his arms and legs were sprawled out.

“Take care of him please,” Melanie said to Josh.

“He has a fighting chance now,” Josh replied.

The others kept going to the break room and gathered around the table. Melanie sat at one end, dropping into her seat with a huff, feeling the ache in her back and legs. Lizzy took a seat on her right, Mr. Turner on the left. Shona and Nathan sat farther down, and Dusty came padding along with them, plopping down nearby. Other than the dog, they were all staring expectantly at Melanie, waiting for her to say something, but she needed a moment to gather her thoughts.

“I don’t get it,” she said, brushing her hair back from her face with both hands. “Brian gave me directions to the drugstore, and Rita set up an ambush there. Is that what I’m supposed to conclude? But if either of them wanted to kill me or take me captive, why not take me while I was on the road alone somewhere?”

“Rita hasn’t confessed to anything,” Lizzy said. “We questioned her for a long time and threatened her and all kinds of stuff, but she feigned ignorance the entire time.”

“We don’t really need any information from her,” Mr. Turner said, hands steepled on the tabletop. “We know what happened here. She’s clearly working with Cooper. He sent metalworkers here because he knew we needed their help, but he didn’t send them alone, because he knew it would seem too convenient.”

“And we fell for it,” Melanie replied. “I fell for it. Why didn’t it occur to me that they might be connected to Cooper? I had suspicions and didn’t trust them. We’re really lucky no one got killed.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Mel,” Lizzy said, reaching out to lay her hand on Melanie’s forearm. “We all went along with it.”

Mr. Turner cleared his throat loudly then and stroked his thick, mostly white beard with both hands. “I say we kill her. Rita is a thief, and she was trying to arm Cooper. If we hadn’t caught her, maybe she would have shot her way to freedom, you know? She was the last one to see Brian, so he must have escaped and passed a message to Cooper. That’s how they found you at the drugstore. They were both working against us from the beginning.”

Yes, I could do that, Melanie thought. I could kill her and not think twice about it. A single bullet would get it done. But something about the situation didn’t add up, and she realized what it was.

“We’re not killing her,” she said, gripping her forehead in her hands.

This went around the table like a jolt. Mr. Turner flinched like he’d been slapped. Lizzy leaned back in her seat. Nathan and Shona looked at each other in surprise. Even Josh, who had just appeared in the doorway, gave Melanie a confused look.

“If we leave her alive, even if we keep her imprisoned, she’ll work against us,” Mr. Turner said.

“I’m not convinced Brian was working for Cooper,” Melanie said. “It doesn’t add up. I talked to him at length. I talked to both of them. Rita gave me a weird vibe, but Brian never did.”

“So she killed him, then,” Mr. Turner said, “and hid the body somewhere. He probably found out she was working for Cooper, so she shut him up permanently.”

“That seems far more likely,” Melanie said.

“Oh, gosh, if that’s true…poor Brian,” Lizzy said.

“All the more reason to kill her,” Mr. Turner said. “We can’t keep a cold-blooded assassin in our midst.”

“We need information from her,” Melanie said. “We need to know what Cooper’s plan is. We need to know as much about him as possible, and Rita has access to him somehow.”

“She won’t talk,” Mr. Turner said. “We already tried.”

“Anyone will talk, given the right incentive,” Melanie said. “Like squeezing a sponge, I’m going to get as much information out of her as I can before we kill her.”

Lizzy grimaced at this, clearly unsettled by the implications of what Melanie was saying. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. No one did. There was no counterpoint or opposition to Melanie’s suggestion. Mr. Turner stared back with a cool smile on his face.

“Anyway, leave the interrogation to me,” she said. “I’ll figure out a way to make her talk.”

As she pushed her chair back and rose, she was grateful for the little meeting. If she’d gone straight to Rita, her anger might have pushed her too far too fast. Now that she’d had a few minutes to calm down and think straight, she could act with purpose to extract information. Still, as she stepped back from the table under the troubled gaze of Lizzy, she wondered if she was strong enough, ruthless enough, to do what needed to be done next.

Rita’s going to tell me absolutely everything, Melanie thought. I don’t care what it takes. We let her into our factory. We trusted her and fed her and gave her a place to sleep, and this is how she repaid us.

Still, there was something else that had to be dealt with first.

21

“Rita’s almost certainly working for Cooper,” Melanie said, “but at the same time, she has been working on the new defenses for the factory. I had her and Brian finishing up the gate reinforcements, but Rita also worked on the walls.”

“You think she sabotaged us somehow?” Mr. Turner asked.

“I watched her working on the gate,” Melanie said. Indeed, as she thought about it, she tried to recall if there’d been anything suspicious about Rita’s work on the gate, but she couldn’t think of anything. “Nothing seemed strange at the time, but we have to be sure. We need to go back and inspect all of the work Rita did. All of it. Anything she laid her hands on.”

“Josh and I were at the back door,” Mr. Turner said. “We can go take a closer look at what she did there.”

“Good,” Melanie said. “Lizzy, Shona, Nathan, you three spread out and look around the building. Try to find any evidence of sabotage. Rita spent some time alone. See what you can find. I’ll look at the gate.”

“Why not interrogate her first and make her confess to sabotage?” Mr. Turner asked.

“If she’s made a way for Cooper and his men to get inside, we need to deal with it right away,” Melanie said. “Interrogation might take a while. Anyway, if we find evidence of sabotage, then I won’t feel bad about…what comes next.”

She dismissed everyone with a wave of her hand and headed toward the reception area. Behind her, she heard people getting up, heading for the hallway, murmuring as they went. Melanie was exhausted, but she thought she’d hid it fairly well. The others didn’t seem to realize she was on the verge of collapse.

As she headed outside, she patted her jacket pocket, comforted by the bulk of the Beretta there. In the parking lot, it was a still, quiet morning, a brisk breeze sweeping down over the wall to stir up gravel and debris in the corners. The gate was still impressive-looking work considering the makeshift nature of it. Still, Melanie approached and began inspecting all of Rita’s work carefully. She tested the weld and bolts, pulling on the reinforcements, seeing if anything was deceptively weak.

Despite a meticulous effort, where she went from piece to piece, pulling and prodding to see if anything would budge, she found no evidence of sabotage. The gate was secure, and all of Rita’s work seemed legitimate. Indeed, some of it was even sturdier than it appeared. The woman clearly had skill.

Maybe it’s because Brian was helping her at the end, she thought. If I’m right and Brian wasn’t in on it, then she couldn’t have acted openly while he was watching her.

She wanted to believe he was innocent. If not, then she was a worse judge of character than she feared.

“Melanie!”

She’d spent long minutes going over the entire gate when she heard someone call her name. By now, her mind was getting foggy, and she had to rouse herself. Turning, she spotted Lizzy in the factory door, beckoning her with both hands. She seemed frantic.

Oh, God, what did they find? Melanie thought.

“Is it bad?” Melanie asked, as she approached the front door.

“Well, it’s blatant. Let’s put it that way,” Lizzy said, stepping aside so she could enter. “I don’t think we would have noticed if we hadn’t look closely, but as it turns out, you were right.”

“Show me,” Melanie said.

Lizzy pulled the front door shut then led her through the factory.

“I can’t believe I let Rita inside the factory,” Melanie muttered, smacking the side of her head. “The woman gave me a bad feeling, and I kept her around. Lizzy, I think maybe I’m the wrong person to run things around here. Why did everyone start looking to me to make decisions? I didn’t ask for this.”

Lizzy grabbed her hand. “Now, stop that. You became the leader because it was a natural fit. Look, we all agreed with letting Rita in here, didn’t we? We all fell for it.”

“But I was the one standing at the gate when they showed up,” Melanie said. “She even had those useless corporate guys tagging along just so I’d think I was being choosy.”

To this, Lizzy seemed to have no response. She led Melanie past the stairs to the back hall and around the corner, where Josh and Mr. Turner were inspecting a section of the wall beside the back door. As Melanie approached, she saw a strange hint of light coming from the wall itself. She squatted down beside the men.

“Push on the wall right here,” Josh said, gesturing with a flick of his finger toward where light was coming through the wall.

Melanie gently laid her hands against a section of the outer wall and gave it a push. A large right-angle crack appeared, revealing that someone had cut through a square section of the wall about three feet wide by three feet tall. With a gentle push, she was able to widen the crack enough to see the asphalt parking lot through the gap.

“She was smart about it,” Mr. Turner said. “She didn’t cut all the way through, just enough to make the wall brittle. I was pushing on various places around the door, and suddenly it split right there.”

“How did she do it without being caught?” Melanie asked. She gave the section of the wall another gentle push, then rose and backed away.

“Must’ve been while the panels were being installed on the outside,” Josh said. “Maybe while welding, she cut through somehow. She was discreet about it. We never noticed. All someone would have to do now is give the outside panel a good kick, and a big section of the wall would just break away—easy entrance.”

“It wouldn’t have taken long to cut through the wall with the welding torch,” Mr. Turner said. “We were so busy moving scrap, handling tools, and so forth. All she would have needed was a couple of minutes. Maybe while Josh and I were gathering additional scrap metal. Heck, there were quite a few times where she asked us to grab one thing or the other.”

“Getting our eyes off the wall for a few minutes at a time,” Josh said, “and we never thought twice about it.”

“We were far too naïve,” Mr. Turner said.

Josh was a stranger, allied with an enemy, and I trusted him when he offered to help, she thought. It turned out to be the right decision, but it made me more willing to trust the next strangers who came along and offered help. Pop is right. I was far too naïve.

Melanie traded a furious look with Lizzy, who was standing nearby, her arms crossed over her belly.

“It couldn’t have been an accident?” Lizzy asked. “Maybe she put the welding torch on the wrong setting or something?”

“Rita knew what she was doing,” Melanie said. “I watched her work. She’s a very skilled metalworker. No, this was intentional. She came in here looking to sabotage us.”

“Was Brian in on it?” Lizzy asked.

“No idea,” Melanie replied. “If I had to guess, I’d say probably not. Maybe he suspected Rita of sabotage. Maybe she tried to turn him to her side, or maybe he saw some evidence of what she was up to, and she got rid of him.”

“Or maybe Brian wasn’t who we thought he was,” Lizzy suggested.

Melanie wanted to trust her sense of the man, but she couldn’t deny the possibility that her friend was right. Still, she could see the man’s face in her mind, and he’d seemed genuine. He’d sounded sincere. Was she really that bad at reading people? If so, then she couldn’t trust her judgment about anyone.

“Well, whatever the case, we’ve been played,” she said with a world-weary sigh. “They couldn’t get in here with grenades and guns, but they managed to trick us by offering exactly the expertise we needed. I’ll hand it to Cooper. He’s not just a dumb brute.”

She touched the wall just above the crack with the tip of her shoe. Rita had cut through the outer wall, insulation, and the inner wall. Melanie was impressed that Rita had gotten away with it. Heck, she’d probably cut right through the wall while Josh, Mr. Turner, and Brian were working beside her.

“Well, can we fix this damned wall?” she asked.

“I think so,” Mr. Turner said. He put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a fatherly side hug. “We’re not qualified to use the welding torch, but we’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, thanks,” Melanie said. “We’d better round up the tools and some additional scrap metal and get this repaired. Let’s gather what we can and meet back here. If any of you come across any…evidence of Brian…” She shrugged. “Well, let me know.”

“Are you going to interrogate our captive?” Mr. Turner asked.

“It’ll wait until repairs are underway,” Melanie said. “Let’s get to work.”

And with that, she turned and walked away. Her heart was heavy. If she was right about Brian and he’d fallen victim to Rita, then it was one more tragedy to add to the list.

Maybe he got away, she told herself. Maybe Rita tried to kill him, and he fled.

She wanted to believe it. She really did, but it seemed unlikely. And what if his dead body was stashed somewhere in the factory? That was the most likely scenario, and it made her stomach do a little flip-flop.

22

The handcart was piled high with scrap metal from the factory machines, arranged on different levels by size. More scrap metal was stacked neatly on the ground nearby. The toolbox was open, the tray pulled out so every tool was visible. The welding torch and portable generator sat on the pallet jack near the door. They had everything they needed to repair the wall, but as Melanie stood in the shadow of the outer wall and considered the work ahead, she realized they were out of their depth.

Josh, Mr. Turner, and Lizzy stood behind her. Even Shona and Nathan had come to take a look, but she’d sent them to check on Mark instead. On the outside, now that they’d revealed the large, neatly cut area, it looked even worse in the sunlight. Rita had cut alongside a couple of large pieces of plating, which would have made it harder to spot if they hadn’t already broken through.

“It really needs to be welded shut, that’s the thing,” Melanie said. “Otherwise, a single intruder could kick through and get inside the building.

“If we can keep them outside the compound, then a hole in the wall won’t much matter,” Lizzy noted. “What if we just covered it up with something so it wasn’t visible?”

Melanie shook her head. “Absolutely not. The day may come when we’re in a full-blown war to keep people out of the factory. If Rita has gotten word to the outside, then they’ll know about this weakness in the wall, and once they’re inside, it’s over.”

Josh stepped up to the pallet jack and leaned down, resting a hand on top of the welding mask. “Well, the problem is, none of us are welders. We let Rita and Brian do all the hard work, while we just ran supplies. I mean, hell, I could put on the mask, crank up the generator, and try to copy what I saw them do, but I can’t promise it’ll work.”

Melanie could tell by the tone of his voice that he was joking, but she nodded and said, “Good, because that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Since you volunteered, you can try it first. Put on the welding mask and see if you can seal the cracks.”

“Me?” he replied with a grimace. “I’m a veterinarian. I believe I’ve mentioned that a few times.”

“We all spent time with Brian and Rita,” Melanie said. “We watched them work. We’ve got the gist of how the welding torch works. Pop, Lizzy, and I can offer suggestions while you turn on the torch and give it a try.” When he still seemed hesitant, she added, “As a vet, you’ve got the steadiest and most skilled hands of anyone here.”

The flattery seemed to work. Josh picked up the welding mask and set it on his head, flipping the visor up. Then he pressed the starter on the generator and gave it a second to start puttering away. Finally, he bent over the welding torch.

“I’m pretty sure she purged the lines first,” Mr. Turner said, pointing to the oxygen and gas lines that connected the torch to the tanks. “Here. I’ll do it.” He approached the tanks and fiddled with the lines. Then he slowly turned the valve on the gas tank.

“Okay, I believe we squeeze the trigger to light the flame now,” Josh said, picking up the torch. He tilted the lighter and squeezed the handle to create sparks. Suddenly, a flame appeared at the tip of the torch, glowing brightly and sending up a trail of smoke. “There we go.”

Mr. Turner turned the valve to adjust the flame until it was small enough and bright enough that it was no longer smoking. “That looks about right to me. What do you folks think?”

“Looks good to me,” Josh said.

“Don’t look directly at the flame,” Melanie warned the others.

“Yeah, Brian mentioned that before,” Josh said, pushing down the visor on his mask as he approached the crack in the wall.

But Lizzy apparently had missed Brian’s earlier advice. She turned her head suddenly, rubbing at her eyes, as if she’d been peering into the flame.

“Brian also said there are different tips for the torch,” Mr. Turner added. “One for cutting, and one for fusing metal. Which one have we got now?”

“It must be for fusing metal,” Melanie said. “The last time Rita used it, she was fusing metal to the gate.”

“I don’t know how much fuel we’ve got,” Josh said. “Probably not much, especially after all the work we’ve already done on the walls. Now, as best I can remember, I’m going to apply heat to the metal alongside the crack here until it melts. Then I’ll need some piece of scrap, ideally the same kind of metal, to fuse against it.”

“That sounds about right to me,” Mr. Turner said. “Go for it.”

Melanie approached the handcart and dug through the stack of smaller pieces. She found a thin aluminum rod, a support post for some piece of equipment on one of the production lines. She grabbed it and brought it to Josh.

“Everyone else stand well clear of our welder here,” she said.

Lizzy and Mr. Turner stepped back out of the way, but Mr. Turner made sure to position himself where he had a clear view of the work being done. As Josh slowly ran the torch along the cracked wall, Mr. Turner nodded, as if silently judging the quality of the work being done.

When Josh held up his free hand, Melanie handed him the aluminum rod. He placed it against the crack and began heating it with the welding torch. It was clear he barely knew what he was doing. The work was sloppy, and it was slow going. Still, Melanie figured it was better than nothing. As he slowly fused the aluminum rod into the soft metal of the wall, she heard him occasionally muttering curses, clearly frustrated with the quality of his own work.

“What if Cooper and his men don’t realize we’ve fixed this?” Melanie wondered aloud.

“What do you mean?” Mr. Turner asked.

“Let’s suppose we hide the repair work somehow,” she said. “If they still thought this was their easy way in, we could set up a booby trap and maybe take some of them out.”

“How would we do that?” Mr. Turner asked.

“I’m not sure. Paint over the weld? Hide it with some additional paneling? Then mark the wall in some way that will make them think this is the way in.” She tried to envision this, but she couldn’t quite see it.

“And what would the booby trap do?” Mr. Turner asked.

“I don’t have it worked out,” she replied. “I just had the idea.”

Still, Josh was working so slowly, she realized they had plenty of time to figure it out, so she began to envision different kinds of booby traps.

“So the idea is to leave a spot that looks like it’s been sabotaged,” Lizzy said, “then when they try to access it, they get…like…a spike in the face or something?”

“Exactly,” Melanie replied. She looked from Lizzy to Mr. Turner. “Any of you have an idea of how we could booby trap this part of the wall?”

“A shotgun attached to a pressure plate?” Mr. Turner suggest. “We would mount it either on the inside of the wall or under one of the armor plates.”

“I already said it,” Lizzy added. “Spikes in the face.”

“And how will that work?”

Lizzy tapped her chin with one chewed fingernail. “A trip wire attached to a counterweight; spikes hidden behind something on the wall. I don’t know, Mel. Like you just said, I haven’t got it all worked out, but I’ll bet we can figure it out if we put our heads together.”

“Shotgun is more certain,” Mr. Turner said. “Spikes would have to build momentum to hit hard enough, and they could be dodged. I agree with the trip wire and counterweight though.”

“Okay, look.” Melanie turned to face the two of them. Behind her, Josh continued to mutter curses as he reached the corner of the cracked wall. “You two work on the booby trap. That’s your little father/daughter project. How does that sound?”

Lizzy gave her a salute, and Mr. Turner patted her on the shoulder.

“We’ve got it,” he said. “Between the two of us, we can come up with something that works.”

“It’s like being in the Brownies all over again,” Lizzy said. “Except, instead of making cookies, we’re trying to kill people.”

It was a strange attempt at humor that fell flat. Melanie shook her head and sighed.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said, as she headed for the back door.

“Where are you going?” Lizzy asked.

“Where else? To question our prisoner. Time to make her talk.”

And with that, she opened the back door and slipped into the dim hallway, feeling a steely and cold determination come over her. Oh, yes, Rita was going to squeal like a squeezed rat, whatever it took.

23

She diverted to the supply closet first. Better to have some options other than the gun with her. She didn’t want to lose her temper and draw the Beretta, especially if Rita proved to be good at pushing her buttons. A dead prisoner could give no answers. As she stepped into the supply closet, Melanie approached the shelves that contained all of Derrick’s old tools, grabbing a few items and stuffing them into her jacket pockets. Finally, she removed the Beretta and placed it beside the gun cabinet.

Best way to avoid the temptation is to eliminate the possibility, she told herself.

Still, her pockets bulged with tools as she left the closet and headed up the stairs toward Derrick’s old office. Was she really going to use tools to threaten this woman? Honestly, she didn’t know. Melanie could scarcely think straight after the last few days, so as she trudged up the steps toward the office door, she had no idea what to expect.

Turning the knob, she eased the door open. Derrick’s office had been turned into a storage room for extra supplies. The desk and chair were still in place, but his clutter, the great heaps of papers, had been removed. As soon as Melanie stepped into the dim office, she saw the woman in the corner. Rita was standing against the wall beyond the desk, turned to one side, her wrists handcuffed to a sturdy exposed pipe that ran from floor to ceiling.

At first, her head was turned away, as if she’d been staring at the pipe, but she whipped around suddenly and locked eyes with Melanie. Her short hair was shiny with sweat, and rivulets had run down her face. Her deep-set eyes were partially veiled in shadow, but her lips were parted, showing teeth. However, as Melanie drew near, she noted that the woman’s rough hands had what appeared to be small, fresh scabs on a few of her knuckles.

“Welcome back,” Rita said, voice oozing with sarcasm. “Did you have some trouble on the road?”

Melanie pulled back the chair and sat behind the desk. When she did, the tools in her pockets rattled, and for a second, Rita’s smile faltered.

“I think you know exactly what happened on the road,” Melanie replied. “Fortunately, I got away from your men by hiding in a storm pipe. They weren’t particularly bright.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rita said, the smile becoming a scowl. “I don’t have any men. Whatever trouble you encountered out there had nothing to do with me. When I first came inside the factory, I warned you that the world isn’t safe.”

“So that’s the game we’re going to play?” Melanie said. “From what I’ve been told, you pretty much already confessed your involvement. You were caught trying to steal weapons from the supply closet.”

“I didn’t confess to anything,” Rita replied, turning her head. “As for the weapons, it was all a misunderstanding. They didn’t even give me a chance to clear things up before they started manhandling me like a bunch of maniacs.”

Melanie leaned back in the chair, fighting the rising urge toward violence. Rita was indeed trying to provoke her, so Melanie decided to take a different approach. When the prisoner turned to look at her again, she fixed a big smile on her face, hoping that it looked confident. A few moments of silence passed before she spoke again.

“Do you realize how easy it was to find your little sabotage and fix it?” Melanie said. “You cut right through the wall near the back door. Or maybe you slipped? I don’t know. Either way, you’re not as smart or as sneaky as you think you are.”

At this, Rita laughed bitterly. “I’m a master welder. I’ve never made a shoddy weld in my life, not on accident and not on purpose. No way would I do that. My reputation is on the line when I work, and that means more to me than anything else. Anyway, what reason would I have to sabotage the repair work and jeopardize my place in the factory?”

“To make a weak spot for your friends to get inside the building, I imagine,” Melanie said. “Is that why you did it? Look, you’ve already been caught stealing. We know now what kind of person you are, so let’s stop feigning ignorance. It’s tiresome, Rita. It really is.”

Rita grunted and bowed her head, her lips pursed tightly. “Suppose I really was trying to steal a few things. Just suppose. So what? I lived in complete desperation out there on the road for weeks. Maybe it’s hard not to pinch a few things that are left easily accessible, but that doesn’t mean I’m some kind of spy, saboteur, or worse yet, a murderer.” She dabbed her sweaty face on the sleeve of her uniform and looked at Melanie.

“So, you admit it, then?” Melanie asked. Too restless to remain sitting, she rose from the chair, the tools in her pockets clanking again. “You are a thief? You were stealing guns from the supply closet?”

The tip of Rita’s tongue worried at her lower lip for a second before she finally said, “Okay, fine, you got me. Yes, I was taking some stuff. I just…it was compulsive, okay? I didn’t plan it. Look, you don’t know what it’s like being out there! What’s left of the government is so overwhelmed, they’re practically useless. Stores and food banks have been looted into oblivion. There are roving bands of thieves and killers taking whatever they want. Your fortress here isn’t impregnable. People will keep coming for it. I knew that. Walking around here, seeing all of this stuff you’ve got stashed in every room, I just saw the writing on the wall. ‘This too shall fall.’ And I got scared. I wanted to be armed for when the walls got breached and the wild people came inside, so, yeah, I grabbed a couple of guns. Can you blame me for that?”

And indeed, Melanie could not. If Rita had been telling the truth, it would have almost seemed reasonable, but Melanie had decided to trust her instincts. The bad vibes that she’d sensed from Rita were real. She knew that. She just wanted a bit of confirmation.

“I wouldn’t blame anyone for wanting to be armed under the circumstances,” Melanie said. “And if that were all you’d done, I might even pardon you and unlock those cuffs. But…” She let that word linger in the air. “What about Brian’s work gloves? You snatched them off the table when no one was looking, didn’t you?”

Rita made a disgusted sound. “Why would I need to steal a pair of old gloves? I have my own, and I’d like them back, by the way. Your friends wouldn’t bring me my stuff. I suppose you plan on keeping it after you get rid of me.”

“You took Brian’s gloves,” Melanie said, taking a step toward her. She hoped it would intimidate the woman, but Rita didn’t seem bothered in the least. “And you took the multi-tool and my keys.”

“I didn’t take anything but those guns, and I told you why I did it,” she said. “How many more things are you going to accuse me of? It’s because I’m new here. I’m an easy target. Anything that goes wrong, anyone who turns up missing, blame the new girl. Is that how it works?”

And in that moment, Melanie felt her confidence waver. What if she’d read the situation wrong? What if Rita’s explanations were true? Maybe her anxiety about Cooper’s next attack had made her paranoid. But there was one line of questioning that hadn’t been touched yet.

“What happened to Brian?” Melanie asked, standing before Rita, her hands hovering near her jacket pockets. “When I left, the two of you were working together. Lizzy says she stepped away, and the next thing she knew, Brian was gone.”

Rita eyes flicked down to Melanie’s hands, then up to her face, but her expression was unreadable. “He left,” she said with a shrug. “While we were working, he made some comment about his stay being temporary. As soon as we finished the gate, he took off. I guess he figured it was better to leave quietly than say goodbye, in case it roused suspicion. I mean, you are a damn suspicious lot, after all.”

“He just left all of a sudden?” Melanie said. “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth, so believe or don’t. That’s your choice.” Rita rose up tall and stretched her back. As she did, the chains on her handcuffs clanged against the pipe. “For the record, Brian had been checking over all my work for the last couple of days to make sure it was up to his standards, so if anything was sabotaged, he would have seen it. And since he didn’t say anything about it, we can assume he was your saboteur. That’s called logic. It’ll get you to the right conclusion a lot faster than emotion every single time.”

Trying to rile me up? Melanie wondered. But what purpose would that serve? She chose to ignore the insult, though it had, indeed, infuriated her.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Melanie asked.

“I told you, after we fixed the gate,” Rita said. “Brian made some weird comment about his stay being temporary. I was putting away the tools, and the next thing I knew, he was just gone. The gate was open, and there was no Brian. I didn’t go looking for him or anything, but I put two and two together and figured he must’ve left. Maybe he went looking for you, or maybe…” She shrugged. “Draw some other conclusion, but I had nothing to do with it. I’m being treated rather unfairly, and after all the hard work I did for you people.” She made another disgusted sound and bowed her head, as if the weight of the injustice were more than she could bear.

Melanie regarded her for a moment. This hadn’t gone like she’d expected. Somehow, she’d anticipated a furious, police-style interrogation leading to threats and fighting. Instead, she found herself at a bit of an impasse after a fairly mild discussion. Rita had reasonable explanations for most of the accusations. Nothing she’d said really helped or hurt her case. She’d admitted to stealing the guns, so she wasn’t trying to play the innocent.

Is it possible she’s telling the truth? Melanie wondered. Or maybe she just has a really good handle on her emotions.

“So, what’s next?” Rita asked, finally. “You’ve got pockets overflowing with hammers and screwdrivers and who knows what else? Are you planning to torture me? I’ll scream and bleed for you, but I’ll still give the same answers. They’re the only answers I have to give.”

“I’m not going to torture you,” Melanie replied.

“But you definitely thought about it before you came in here,” Rita said, eyeing her bulging jacket pockets. “Maybe you’re a sensible person after all, and you realize what I’ve said makes sense. So, like I said, what’s next? Are you going to set me free? Push me through the gate and send me on my way?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Melanie replied. “Not yet.”

“Great.” Rita clanged the handcuffs against the pipe again. “So, you’re going to leave me here, chained like this, with no bathroom, food, or water?”

But Melanie was picking her way back through the interrogation, trying to find any subtle confession other than the admission of stealing guns. Was there any other avenue worth pursuing? In the end, she decided she just wasn’t willing to turn up the heat. Rita’s reasonable responses had deflated her fury by mixing in just a tiny amount of doubt. Melanie decided she needed more time, or perhaps another opinion.

Distracted, she turned and started toward the office door.

“You’re leaving me here, then,” Rita said, with an exasperated sigh. “Great. Can I at least get a pot to pee in?”

“I’ll think about it,” Melanie said, as she opened the office door.

Rita started to say something else, but Melanie stepped outside into the corridor and shut the door behind her. As she started down the stairs, she felt a twisting in her guts. The seeds of doubt and fear waging war.

24

Josh didn’t enjoy being on watch duty. He much preferred staying busy, whether that meant working on the wall, tending to Mark, helping with a meal, or tidying up. That kept him from going back to the dark places in his memory, to the place where he watched his friends sink into paranoia, conspiracy theories, and cruelty, and then get killed around him. Yes, better not to think about those things. He had one former acquaintance left, after all. The worst of them, and he was out there somewhere in the wild lands beyond the factory wall.

Derrick Platt had initially made contact with Cooper through one of his online communities, most likely one of the more extreme conspiracy-oriented forums. He’d invited the man to one of their meetings without getting approval from the other members. Suddenly, one day, Cooper had just been there, looking like a seventh-century peasant straight out of the deepest woods, with a red beard almost the color of blood, and his icy eyes.

We should have pushed back harder, Josh thought. Derrick might have listened to us in the beginning. It was Cooper’s influence that made him intractable.

And now Derrick’s weird online friend was out there somewhere roaming the crumbling towns of Tennessee like a new-world warlord. He probably felt right at home.

No telling how many people he’s robbed and killed at this point.

At the moment, Josh was settled on one of the padded chairs in the conference room, which he’d rolled up in front of the big window. He had the Timber Classic Marlin 336C across his lap, his right hand resting on the wooden stock of the lever-action rifle. A pair of binoculars sat on the edge of the conference table within reach.

Three hours of staring into the wasteland, he thought. Keep your eyes peeled, Joshua. You never know when the broken world will come knocking.

From the upstairs window, he could see beyond the gate to the access road and the distant highway. Dead vehicles were scattered in every lane, detritus of another place and time, but he didn’t see any people. They were out there. They had to be, vast masses of the desperate and unwashed, but most of them were probably hunkered down in secret places, trying to stay out of sight.

Josh’s gaze went to the gate. He could see the work that Rita had done even from this distance—large dark pieces of scrap metal affixed to the hinges, to the latch. One long piece had been attached to the surrounding wall and protruded out in front of the gate to act as a door stopper. The gate was the last place anyone had seen Brian.

Rita could have killed him, Josh thought. She’s quite a bit smaller than him, so it’s unlikely she would have won in a physical fight. And if she used a gun, someone would have heard it.

That didn’t exonerate her, of course. There were plenty of ways to kill a person. Even with the size difference, she could have come up behind him and bashed him in the head with one of the large tools. A hammer or wrench would have done it. As Josh considered this possibility, he shuddered.

“Okay, man, stop thinking about this,” he muttered. “You’re just giving yourself the creeps.”

To get his mind off Brian, he picked up the binoculars and scanned the distant highway. There wasn’t much to see. Cars and trucks parked at angles in the lanes. He spotted a couple of coyotes in the distance trotting along side by side, heading toward Knoxville, as if they were on their way to claim the city for the wild animals of the world. They paused to inspect the open door of a small sedan, sniffing around the driver’s door before losing interest and continuing on their way.

Finally, Josh lowered the binoculars. He was considering getting up, maybe to pace back and forth in front of the window as he often did when he was bored. However, something caught his eye. A small glint of light to one side. He shifted his gaze, trying to look at it directly. When he spotted it, he couldn’t make sense of it. A tiny twinkling light near the horizon northwest of the factory. It was soon joined by another, like twin stars that had fallen from the sky. Then a third.

He raised the binoculars again and looked for the lights. Midmorning sunlight glinting on chrome. That was the source of the light. He realized this immediately when he examined them through the binoculars. He recognized the vehicle in the lead: an ’80s-model Dodge Dakota with a two-tone paint job of blue and gray. However, something was different about it. Some large chrome object had been affixed to the front, like a makeshift battering ram. Josh’s skin crawled at the sight of it.

Derrick’s old pickup was weaving through the stalled vehicles on the interstate, headed in their direction. Josh thought he saw the shape of at least one person hunkered down in the bed of the truck. Two other vehicles followed along behind the truck. Headed for the factory.

Josh lurched up out of his seat, and the rifle tumbled to the floor. He almost dropped the binoculars, fumbling for a second before reseating them against his eyes. Though sunshine was reflected on the windshield of the lead truck, he thought he even saw a hint of a dark red beard behind the steering wheel.

The alarm, he thought. The alarm, you idiot. Don’t just stand there and stare! You have to warn everyone that the enemy is coming!

He forced himself to set the binoculars on the table. Then he stooped and picked up the rifle. They kept the large hand-cranked siren in the conference room for raising the alarm. Josh grabbed the handle and began spinning it. The sound rose gradually, from a low growl to an ear-piercing whine.

It lasted about three seconds. Suddenly, the handle snapped off, which caused Josh to lurch forward and bump into the table. He looked at the broken handle. It was speckled with rust, but otherwise it seemed pretty sturdy. He hadn’t been using too much force, so how had it broken so easily?

It was sabotaged, he thought. Just like the wall beside the back door.

He spent a moment trying to insert the handle back into its hole, but the metal itself had snapped. The alarm had worked for a few seconds, and it was fairly loud. Had anyone heard it? The factory still seemed quiet. Nobody dashing about frantically.

Josh turned back to the window and raised the binoculars again. Cooper and his men were coming fast, approaching the exit ramp that would lead them to the gate. There were only a few minutes to prepare. Cursing, Josh tossed the broken alarm handle onto the table, set the binoculars down, and slung the rifle over his shoulder.

It never occurred to us to check the alarm for sabotage, he thought. Whoever did it, they were successful. They’ve bought Cooper a minute.

Cursing loudly, he stepped around the table and rushed across the room. As soon as he opened the door to the hallway beyond, he began shouting loud enough to strain his voice.

“He’s here! Cooper is here! We’re under attack!”

He didn’t see anyone in the upstairs hallway, so he rushed past Derrick’s office and headed down the stairs, yelling all the way.

“We’re under attack! Three trucks headed this way! Cooper is here! We’re under attack!”

He caught some sound coming from Derrick’s office. It was muffled by the door, but he thought it was laughter. Was Rita laughing at them?

25

Melanie was sitting with Mark when she heard the strange sound filtering through the walls. Mark, at least, was awake and alert now, though his face was still flushed. She’d tried to pull his sheet up, but he’d resisted, gently pushing her hand away. Clearly, the poor guy was sweltered in the stale, stagnant room. There wasn’t much she could do about that.

“It’s times like this when I miss air-conditioning,” she said, flinging the sheet to the foot of Mark’s cot. “You don’t realize how stuffy it gets inside a closed room until you can’t get the air moving.”

“Just wheel me outside,” Mark said, his voice creaking. “A little fresh air would be nice.”

“Maybe I will,” Melanie said. “Do you feel any better? Josh said he thought the new antibiotics were helping.”

“No, I felt better when I was unconscious,” he said, giving her a sly smile. “But I think I’m on the mend, if that’s what you mean.”

She grabbed his hand, hot as a coal plucked from a fire. “Good. That’s what matters.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to get that medicine for me,” Mark said. “Almost got shot, from what I heard.”

“Josh told you about that?”

Mark nodded. “He didn’t want to, but I pried it out of him.”

Melanie patted his hand and set it on his chest. “Don’t worry about it. There were a couple of weirdos at the drugstore, but I made it back safe and sound. No sense worrying about what could have been.”

And that was when she heard it. A strange mechanical whining sound. It only lasted a couple of seconds before it wound down again. Melanie was instantly alert, lurching up on the stool.

“What was that?” she asked. “Was that the alarm?”

She rose and rushed to the door. It was quiet out there now.

“Mark, stay here,” she said, opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he replied.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, light from a small lamp casting deep shadows across his face. Before she could say anything else, she heard Josh’s voice coming from upstairs. He was shouting so loudly that his voice cracked.

“He’s here! Cooper is here! We’re under attack!”

She heard his boots pounding down the stairs, and she rushed to meet him. Under attack! Those words cut through everything else. The thing she had feared most, the thing she had worked hard to prepare for, that had loomed just over the horizon like some world-ending eruption, was finally here. By the time she reached the end of the hall and turned the corner, Josh was at the bottom of the stairs, still yelling so hard that his voice threatened to break.

“We’re under attack! Three trucks headed this way! Cooper is here! We’re under attack!”

The two of them almost collided. Melanie managed to get her hands up and grab him by the shoulders before he could barrel into her. He had the lever-action rifle over his shoulder. She heard people coming up behind her and knew by the sound it was Lizzy and Mr. Turner. Shona and Nathan soon appeared as well, coming through the double doors from the factory floor, Dusty hurrying after them. They all gathered there in the corner of the hallway, and Melanie felt the collective shock.

“Is it really happening?” Shona whimpered. “Are they here?”

Grimacing, Josh nodded, struggling to get the words out. Melanie held fast to his shoulders.

“Three vehicles,” he said. “Derrick’s old pickup truck in the lead. I don’t know how many men, but I spotted Cooper through the windshield.”

“How long until they get here?” Melanie asked.

“Minutes,” Josh said.

Despite all of their hard work and preparations, all of the planning and discussion, Melanie felt woefully ill-prepared. She took a deep breath to settle her mind, then glanced at each person in turn: Mr. Turner, Lizzy, Shona, Nathan, Josh, even Dusty.

“We knew this moment was coming,” she said, “and you know what you’re supposed to do. Grab your weapons and take your places. Josh, you’re with me. Let’s get the LRAD set up. Come on.”

She snapped her fingers, and everyone scattered, heading in various directions. They’d drilled many times for this exact situation. Shona and Nathan headed to one of the offices, where they had weapons and other gear. Mr. Turner went for the stairs to assume the lookout post. Melanie and Josh ran toward the supply closet. Only Dusty seemed confused, uttering a little bark of frustration before following Shona and Nathan.

“This is it,” Melanie said, flinging open the closet door. She was mostly thinking out loud. “We either drive them away for good, kill them all, or we die here in this factory today.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, your father and daughter got that booby trap set up by the back door,” Josh said, following her into the dark closet. “I examined the construction. It’s a simple design, but it should work. Rather ingenious of them, actually.”

“Good, but let’s hope Cooper and his men don’t make it that far,” Melanie said, picking her way through the closet to the gun cabinet in back. “Let’s keep them on the other side of the wall, if we can.”

She opened the cabinet and the bottom door, reaching inside to grab the LRAD. She added a few noise-dampening earmuffs and set them on top, then Josh grabbed the other side of the large speaker and helped her lift it. Together, they carried it out of the closet, side-stepping down the hall to the back door. As soon as they were outside, Melanie heard at least one of the engines. It was faint, still some distance away, but she knew it all too well. The rumble of Derrick’s old pickup truck took her back to the first hours after the EMP, filling her with a toxic mix of bad memories and lingering terrors.

They shuffled alongside the building, heading down the parking lot toward the front of the building. As soon as they reached the corner, they set the LRAD down and began unfolding the three-legged stand that held it. Melanie grabbed one of the pairs of earmuffs and hooked them around her neck, then handed the other pair to Josh. When she flicked on the power button for the LRAD, she was relieved to see the light come on. The battery was still good.

Josh raised the speaker and pointed it toward the gate, and Melanie carried the control box back a few yards, unrolling the power cord. When she turned back around, the control box in her right hand, she saw a great plume of dust rising up from beyond the gate. The vehicles were approaching the turn-in that led to Beaton’s. The growl of Derrick’s pickup truck was like some hungry animal.

“Okay, it’s ready to go,” Josh said, backing up to stand beside her. “Blast them with sound, Melanie.”

“Cover your ears,” Melanie said, grabbed the earmuffs and setting them on her head. Josh did the same.

The plume of dust drew near and then swirled up and over the gate. Melanie caught a hint of movement through the narrow gap between the gate and the wall. It looked like the lead truck had pulled in parallel to the gate. Apparently, the shrapnel on the ground hadn’t flattened their tires fast enough to stop their approach.

She pressed the button to activate the LRAD. Even with a good pair of earmuffs in place, she heard—and felt—the undulating, ear-piercing wail of the device. It went right through her skull, stabbed down her back, and danced on her skin in an uncomfortable way.

And yet it was different this time. She was sure of it. For some reason, the LRAD wasn’t as intense as it had been when they’d used it before. She tried to twist the knob on the control box to turn up the intensity, but it was already all the way up. Indeed, as the seconds passed, she realized that it wasn’t all that bad. Loud, yes, but not painful. She tested this a bit by lifting the earmuffs. Even with her ears exposed, the sound was unpleasant but not unbearable.

“Something’s wrong,” she shouted at Josh.

“Either the battery is running out, or it’s been messed with,” Josh replied, cupping his hands to either side of his mouth as he spoke.

Dust had gathered thickly around the gate, so that she could barely see through it. However, she sensed some kind of movement on the other side, as if Cooper and his men were raising something up above the gate.

“Okay, Plan B, then,” Melanie replied.

She left the LRAD running, setting the control box on the ground, and dashed back to the door, running as fast as she could. Her heart was hammering in her chest like a wild thing that didn’t want to be caged. Everything felt like it was happening too fast. She returned to the supply closet and stumbled through the dark, feeling along the shelves beside the gun cabinet until she found what she wanted. A riot gun beside a box of tear gas canisters.

She grabbed a handful of canisters, dropping a few in the process, and heaped them up in the crook of her left arm. Then she picked up the riot gun and made her way back through the building. She found Josh huddled behind the LRAD, gazing in the direction of the gate. And now that the dust had settled just a bit, she saw what appeared to be the top of a ladder peeking over the gate. Nobody was on the ladder yet, but clearly, they intended to climb over.

Melanie stooped down and shut off the LRAD, dropping the tear gas canisters on the ground. They proceeded to roll in all directions, but she grabbed a couple and loaded them into the riot gun. In the aching silence that followed the LRAD, she heard shouting voices beyond the gate, one deep voice rising above all others.

“Let’s see how you like a little tear gas yourself, you creeps,” she said, raising the riot gun and striding forward.

She aimed high to ensure the canister would arc over the gate, then pulled the trigger. The gun kicked, and the first canister launched across the front parking lot, already unleashing a trail of white smoke. It just barely cleared the gate, hit the top of the ladder beyond, and fell among the men on the other side. Soon, a great billow of white smoke rose to mingle with the cloud of dust. The shouting of the attackers became even more frantic, and she thought she heard them scattering.

Shifting the riot gun a few feet to the right, she fired the second canister, trying to catch the men as they ran away. She aimed a little higher and pulled the trigger. The second canister fired, sailing up over the wall, scraping the barbed wire in passing. In that moment, noises erupted from the wasteland. First, the roar of Derrick’s pickup truck, and the rumble of spinning tires as he pulled away from the gate. Then, she heard gunfire.

Five shots in quick succession. But they hadn’t cleared the wall. What were they firing at? At the gate itself? Did they hope to shoot their way through?

“Just trying to scare us,” Josh said.

“I’m not scared,” Melanie roared in reply. “I’m angry!”

Someone answered them from inside the factory walls. Return fire from up on the rooftop. Melanie heard three shots evenly spaced—and probably well aimed—and she knew it was Mr. Turner. He’d taken up a position on the rooftop.

“I hope he’s got good cover up there,” she said.

“We’d better take cover as well,” Josh said, tugging at her sleeve. “We’re standing out here in the open. An errant grenade over the wall would be the end of us.”

Melanie picked up a few more tear gas canisters and loaded the riot gun, even as a beckoning Josh ran to the back door. He was right of course. If they lobbed a grenade into the parking lot, she would have nowhere to go. That got her moving. But first, she reached down and flicked on the LRAD. The power light didn’t come on this time. She flicked the switch a few more times, but somehow, it had stopped working.

Rita, what did you do to it?

Shots came from the other side of the gate. A bullet caught the top of the barbed wire and made it dance. They were aiming for the second story of the factory. Melanie raised the riot gun and fired another canister in a high arc. It sailed over the gate and soon disappeared into the white cloud beyond. Then she retreated, stepping backward, down the side of the building.

The LRAD was just sitting there in the parking lot, gas rolling over the top of the gate and slowly closing in to consume it. She hated leaving it there, but she’d taken a big enough risk lingering outside.

“Get inside. Get inside.”

Josh was calling her from the back door. She glanced back over her shoulder to see him frantically beckoning with his hands. Melanie turned to flee, but as she did, something moved out of the corner of her eye. A shadow topped the wall on the north side of the property, appearing in the gaps of the barbed wire roll. Suddenly, a face appeared, a face covered in a knit cap, goggles, and handkerchief tied around the lower half of his face. Somehow, one of Cooper’s men had gotten to the top of the wall, and as he fumbled there for a second, he raised a rifle and thrust the barrel through the barbed wire.

Melanie felt a jolt. They were almost inside! Without meaning to, she cried out, then she fumbled in her jacket pocket until she grabbed the Beretta. Fortunately, the attacker was struggling to get into position, and it bought Melanie just enough time to get the gun out. As she raised it and pointed it at the stranger, he finally got the rifle into position and swung it toward her.

She opened fire. The sound of gunshots was loud and piercing in the parking lot, echoing sharply off the walls. The first bullet hit the wall about a foot below the barbed wire, biting a chunk out of the concrete. The attacker flinched, then fired back. Melanie saw the flash of the muzzle, heard an even louder, more painful gunshot, followed almost immediately by the snap of the bullet punching a hole in the side of the building somewhere behind her.

As she neared the door, she took another shot, this time blindly, unaware if it hit anything. Josh dashed outside, grabbed her jacket and pulled her through the open door. Just before she stepped inside, she heard another rifle shot, and the bullet pinged against one of the armor plates. She didn’t have a chance to see if it ricocheted or blasted through, as she was dragged into the dark corridor. Josh reached past her and pulled the door shut.

“They’re coming over the wall,” Melanie said, stumbling against the doorframe. “They have ladders. We have to drive them back! We can’t let any of them reach the parking lot.”

“Max is up on the roof,” Josh said. “Should we join him there? It’s the best place to shoot at them.”

“You head to the roof,” said. “Let Mr. Turner focus on the front of the building. You go to the back. Make sure they’re not trying to climb over in other places. There’s plenty of ammo up there. I’ll join Lizzy in the conference room. Move fast. They’re coming in. Don’t let them reach the doors!”

“You got it.” Josh saluted her and took off running down the hall, the rifle bouncing against his shoulder.

Melanie followed him around the corner, but then she turned and rushed up the stairs. She was halfway up when she heard a loud bang coming from outside. At the top of the stairs, she had a choice between the conference room, where Lizzy had taken up a position, and Derrick’s office, with a window that looked out the side of the building to the north. Indecisive, Melanie hesitated a moment before rushing into the conference room.

The first thing she saw was the big picture window on the wall beyond the conference table. An enormous bullet hole had been punched into the glass near the upper right corner, a spiderweb of cracks fanning out across half the window from the impact point. The bullet had continued into the ceiling, splitting one of the drop ceiling tiles so that half of it now lay on the floor.

Lizzy was squatting beneath the window, a rifle in her hands. However, it didn’t seem she had returned fire yet. As Melanie entered the room, she looked back over her shoulder, teeth bared.

“They’re coming through!” she hissed.

“I know. I know.” Melanie rushed across the room, moving low.

As she did, she saw something moving through the cloud of tear gas around the gate. It took a moment to make out what it was. The gate itself was bowed inward, as if it had been rammed. The shrapnel hadn’t done much good in stopping the vehicles, but at least Rita’s addition had kept the gate from swinging all the way in. However, people were moving through the narrow gap. Melanie saw a man dressed all in camouflage—hat, jacket, pants, boots—with goggles over his eyes and a handkerchief over his mouth. He stepped out of the cloud of gas and moved into the parking lot.

Melanie started to draw her pistol. Instead, she reached down and plucked the rifle from Lizzy’s hands.

“You have to drive them back, Lizzy,” she said, raising the rifle. “Fire on the gate. Don’t worry about the window. It’s already broken anyway. Keep firing until they retreat.”

“I was trying not to get shot,” she replied. “They had a guy in the back of the pickup truck aiming at the second story.”

Melanie took aim at the gate, the barrel of her rifle touching the window glass. A second man had appeared, emerging from the tear gas like some fog monster. They were both headed toward the front door. She opened fire. The bullet shattered the window in a spectacular burst of glass fragments. They rained down into the parking lot. Melanie saw the men flee back toward the gas cloud, even as she took a few more shots in their direction. Bullets hit the gate, the wall, cut through the tear gas.

And then the attackers responded in kind. She saw the flash of a muzzle through the crack in the opened gate, and she ducked down. However, Mr. Turner returned fire from the rooftop as well, and the men beyond the gate began shouting. Lizzy was crouched beneath the window. As she raised her head, she picked a small shard of glass out of her hair and tossed it aside.

“Keep firing at them,” Melanie said, thrusting the warm rifle at her. “Concentrate your shots on the gate. We have to keep them from coming through. But try to stay behind cover. Don’t get shot.”

Lizzy took the rifle out of her hands—somewhat reluctantly, it seemed—and nodded.

“Are you leaving?” she asked.

“They’re trying to come over the other walls,” Melanie said. “I need to check the window in Derrick’s office. Keep shooting.” She gestured at the stack of ammo boxes on the conference table. “Reload and keep shooting until I give the all clear. Got it?”

Lizzy nodded and raised the rifle. Without looking over the window sill, she aimed the gun in the general direction of the gate, holding it at an awkward angle. When she pulled the trigger, the rifle leapt in her arms, and she almost dropped it.

“Be careful,” Melanie said. “Do it right, please.”

“The LRAD didn’t work?”

“Nope.” Melanie didn’t want to stand around and discuss what had already happened, so she left it at that and headed for the door. “Keep firing, Lizzy! I’m going to count bullets after all of this is over, and a whole bunch of them had better be gone from those boxes. Got me?”

“Chill out, Mel. I’m firing. I’m firing!”

And with that Melanie stepped out of the room and headed to the office next door. She could hear multiple guns firing now. Both Josh and Mr. Turner seemed to be taking shots from the rooftop, and more than one person was shooting back. Hopefully, Josh and Shona were protecting Mark. Melanie just couldn’t check on everyone.

She entered Derrick’s office, and Rita immediately turned and looked at her with an annoying little smirk on her face. It looked like the woman had been squatting in the corner, but she rose now, her handcuffs clanging against the pipe that held her. Melanie ignored her and went toward the desk. The window above the desk looked out on the north side of the property, to the wall where Melanie had traded shots with the other attacker. She drew her pistol and flung back one of the curtains.

“I don’t suppose you want to free me and let me fight with you?” Rita said.

“Not particularly,” Melanie replied. “Did you sabotage the LRAD?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The acoustic weapon.” Unlike the window in the conference room, this one opened. She slid the latch to one side. “We kept it stored in the gun cabinet. I tried to use it just now, and it died on me. What did you do to it?”

“Sounds like a dead battery to me,” Rita replied. “Why do I have to be the scapegoat for everything that goes wrong around here?”

Melanie ignored the comment. At first, she didn’t see the man who had appeared above the wall. Then she noticed some slight movement, gloved hands reached toward the barbed wire. Sunlight glinted off some silver object. Wire cutters, she realized. He was trying to cut away a section of the barbed wire. Melanie took aim with her gun, even though the target was small. She squeezed off a couple of shots. The first went high, but the second hit near the top of the wall, eating a chunk out of the concrete and rattling the barbed wire.

The hands dropped out of sight, and she heard what she thought were the wire cutters falling, as if he’d dropped them, hitting rungs of a metal ladder on the way down. The sound was quickly drowned out by further rifle shots from the roof, from the conference room, from the area around the gate. Melanie grabbed Derrick’s old office chair and dragged it near the window, then sat down, positioning herself so her body was mostly behind cover.

From here, she could see most of the northern parking lot and wall. She dared to lean through the open window, turning to look at the front parking lot. The tear gas had begun to disperse, but she could smell the acrid chemical stink of it in her nostrils. Clear pockmarks marred the wall around the gate, but when the tear gas cloud dispersed a bit more, she caught a glimpse of the pickup truck’s bumper through the gap.

One of the front tires was visible, and it appeared to be flat. The shrapnel had done its work, but not fast enough to stop the truck from slamming into the gate. Cooper had done exactly what Melanie had feared he would do. She raised her gun and took a shot in that direction. The attackers were shouting at each other from somewhere within or beyond the fading gas cloud. One voice was deeper and more dominant than the others.

Melanie dropped back onto her seat, half-hidden behind the wall, and waited, staring like a hawk at the wall across from her window.

“The gate held, though, didn’t it?” Rita said from her corner. “I don’t have to look for myself to know it held. They couldn’t get their vehicles all the way through, could they?”

“Too many people were watching when you made the repairs,” Melanie replied. “You were forced to do a good job to maintain your cover. Where did you hide Brian’s body?”

Rita started to reply, but the shouting beyond the gate reached a crescendo then. Melanie started to peek through the open window again, but a man suddenly reared up above the wall across from her. She raised the pistol to aim at him, but he moved faster. She saw the flash of a muzzle, heard the crack of a rifle joining with all of the other noises, and the window pane beside her exploded. Shards of glass sprayed into the office, splashing across the desktop. Rita uttered a little squeak and dropped down.

Melanie, however, red with rage, opened fire, unloading the rest of the magazine in her gun in the direction of the man. About three shots in, she realized she was screaming at the top of her lungs. Suddenly, she saw what appeared to be a kind of mist rise up from the attacker, and she realized she’d hit him in the head. He dropped behind the wall again, and she heard the clatter of his body as he fell down the ladder.

She didn’t savor the moment. Instead, she pulled out a box of bullets from her jacket pocket, shook it open, and reloaded the gun as fast as she could. Then she leaned out of the window and aimed toward the front gate. Gunfire was going back and forth now, shots being traded without pause. And then Melanie saw men rushing through the gap. Like some kind of wild D-Day charge, they tried to rush the front door en masse.

Two, then four, then six, they came through and immediately fanned out, all headed toward the front of the building. As they came, each of them fired high at the building. Melanie heard a bullet crackle in the air somewhere close by, and she ducked back. Even so, she raised her handgun and fired wildly toward the front of the building. For approximately thirty seconds, the world was filled with a cacophony of gunshots. They seemed to tear the sky open, echoing like mad in the walled parking lot until her ears rang and her head was pounding.

Finally, she emptied her second magazine. Others seemed to do the same, and the gunfire tapered off into a terrible silence. Melanie dared to lean out of the open window again, and she saw two bodies sprawled on the parking lot near the gate. She caught a glimpse of a third and fourth man squeezing back through the gate, retreating.

And then a silence fell over the whole compound. Melanie had a splitting headache, and her ears were still ringing. Her heart pounded so hard, it made her tremble so that she could barely keep the gun steady. In the corner, Rita was hunkered down as low as she could go, hiding her face. Gradually, a pool of blood spread on the pavement around the two bodies, but no one spoke. Minutes passed, and she heard nothing.

No sound. No voice. The world was holding its breath again, but she dared not move.

After what might have been an hour, two hours—she lost track of time—the pickup truck roared to life again. It disappeared from the gap, and soon she heard it roaring away despite its flat tires, kicking up dust as it headed down the access road again. Other vehicles followed, and the gate, driven by gravity, some faint wind, or the sheer exhaustion of the structure itself, slowly swung shut, the broken latch clanging against the metal reinforcements.

“We did it,” Melanie whispered, dabbing the sweat from her cheeks and upper lip. “We did it. My God, we drove them away.”

* * *

Despite the victory, it was a glum and troubled group that gathered in the break room. Somehow, it didn’t feel like a victory. Melanie was seated at the head of the table, Josh and Mr. Turner on her right, Lizzy on her left, and Nathan sat across from her. Poor Dusty was completely freaked out, and Shona sat on the floor with her, petting her as she whimpered. Lizzy’s arms were folded on the tabletop, both sleeves rolled back to her elbow. She had a few small bandages covering scratches caused by flying glass, but those were the most serious injuries. Mr. Turner and Josh were absolutely filthy from crawling around on the rooftop, but no one had been shot. That, at least, was a huge relief.

Melanie wrung her hands so hard they started to get sore. She had a tiny nick on the knuckle of her right hand, but she had no idea where it had come from. The enemy had fled yet again. Two of them were lying dead in the parking lot, a third somewhere on the other side of the wall. So why did she feel so defeated?

“Everyone is accounted for then,” she said. “Nobody got shot on our side. There’s some damage to the building, but the reinforcements worked. It kept the pickup truck from smashing through the gate. The armor plating absorbed a few of the bullets, though we didn’t have any grenades to deal with this time. How are we doing on ammunition?”

“We’ve still got enough bullets for another hundred battles,” Josh replied, brushing back his thin hair. “We went through a few boxes, though. I’m sure we’ll be picking up shells for days.”

Melanie looked at each face in turn, then pushed her chair back and rose. “Well, then, I guess we’d better go out there and deal with the dead.” She could see by the looks on their faces that no one relished this idea, so she added, “No one has to come with me if they don’t want to. We’re just going to drag them outside the walls.”

When she headed toward the front door, only Josh and Mr. Turner came with her. Nathan started to rise, but Shona said something to him, and he sat back down. Lizzy didn’t budge, idly fiddling with the edge of one of her bandages. Melanie didn’t blame her. She’d done her job, holding the attackers off at the gate.

A couple of bullets had made it through the front door and wall, but Melanie found evidence that others had hit the armor plating on the outside and ricocheted off. The dead men were sprawled in the middle of the parking lot facedown, large pools of blood already drying around the bodies. The blood looked thick as tar, and the acrid smell of tear gas mingled with the blood smell to make the air truly rancid.

Still, Melanie powered through her disgust. With Josh and Mr. Turner helping, they rolled the bodies over. The men were wearing orange earplugs, heavy-duty things like one might wear on a construction site. A defense against the LRAD, no doubt.

“So, have we decided if Rita was their person on the inside or not?” Josh asked. “It’s what we all assume, but you never said for sure. How did the interrogation go?”

The gate held, Melanie thought. Still…

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I still can’t tell for sure. Let’s not think about it right now. We need to drag these bodies through the gate and roll them out into the wasteland. Search their pockets for weapons and ammo first.”

As Josh and Mr. Turner responded to her command, she rose, stepping back out of the puddle of blood. Her stomach was all in knots. Would the attacks ever end?

26

By the time she finally took a shower, brushed her teeth, and changed her clothes, it felt like she had reached the end of the longest day in her entire life. Walking through the factory felt weirder now, even though the attackers hadn’t made it inside. It felt less safe, less like home. Dressed in a t-shirt, sweatpants, and flip-flops, Melanie pushed through the double doors and headed toward the hallway.

She encountered Lizzy and Josh, who were coming down the stairs. He had a toolbox, and she had a plastic bag.

“Checking on the prisoner?” Melanie asked.

“We fed her, let her go to the bathroom, and tried to make things more comfortable for her,” Josh said. “I even lengthened her leash a little bit. She’s got a chain connected to her handcuffs now, so she can lie down.” He’d gotten a good whiff of tear gas up on the roof, and his eyes were still red. His thin hair was dusty and all in disarray, and he was still wearing the same dirty clothes from earlier. The poor guy looked like he’d just crawled off a battlefield, and, indeed, he had.

“Rita is so insistent that she’s innocent,” Lizzy said. “She’s got an explanation for everything. I’m almost tempted to believe her.”

“Is she comfortable up there?” Melanie asked. “Will she be able to sleep tonight?”

“She’s got a pillow, a bottle of a water, some food, and a bucket to pee in,” Josh replied. He’d reached the bottom of the stairs, and he headed toward the factory floor. “We’ll have to figure out what to do with her sooner or later.”

“Tomorrow,” Melanie said. “I have to sleep on it. We all do.”

“After the attack, I may never sleep again,” Lizzy said, scrubbing her free hand through her hair. “I could hear the bullets whizzing through the air. There are bullets embedded in the ceiling of the conference room. I probably came within inches of getting killed.”

“Don’t think about it,” Melanie said. “The shattered windows are covered, the gate is locked shut again, and we’re fine for now.”

To this, Lizzy nodded, but she looked somber, downcast.

“The first time we fought over the factory, it didn’t bother me at all,” she said. “Killing people, seeing dead bodies, it all just made me sort of numb. I didn’t care. But the more battles we have, the worse it gets somehow. I can’t take this, Mel.”

Melanie gave her friend a hug.

“They never even set off our booby trap,” Lizzy added.

“Hey, that’s a good thing,” Melanie replied. “Now, go get some sleep, okay? Make yourself sleep. You need rest. We all do.”

Lizzy pulled out of her embrace and nodded. “I’ll try, but I’ve got to put away this crap first.” She held up the bag. Melanie could tell there were food packets inside. “Rita chose the tortellini MRE.”

“Excellent choice,” Melanie replied. “Good night, Liz.”

And with that, Melanie stepped past her friend and headed down the hall. The door to the library was open, and she saw Shona and Nathan sitting in there side by side. They were flipping through books, but it seemed they were chatting rather than reading. Dusty was curled up on the floor at their feet.

“You two don’t stay up long,” Melanie said. “We all need sleep. Got it?”

“Got it, Mom,” Shona replied. “Just give us a little bit longer.”

Melanie decided not to press the point. She kept going to her bedroom, where she found Mark wide awake, propped up on a stack of pillows with a solar-powered lamp shining on a shelf nearby. He was still flushed, but his eyes were mostly clear, his hands folded on his belly. Melanie sat down on the stool beside his cot, amazed at how easily her legs just completely gave out beneath her.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help fight them,” Mark said.

“You already took a bullet for our family,” Melanie reminded him, resting a hand on his bare arm. His skin still felt too warm. “Your job now is to take your medicine, listen to Dr. Josh, and heal.”

“I’m working on it,” he replied. “I have a lot of my strength back already. I can feel it.”

“Good.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek just above the line of his whiskers. “Have you taken your antibiotics this evening?”

“Yeah, Josh was in here maybe an hour ago,” Mark replied. “He stays right on top of it, even after the big gunfight. He’s a good man. I’m glad Derrick didn’t get him killed, you know?”

“Yeah, he’s a good man,” Melanie agreed. “We’re fortunate to have him on our side.”

She adjusted the blankets and pillow on the cot beside Mark’s, then turned out the lantern, and lay down. She still wasn’t used to how quiet the night was in the absence of fans, air conditioners, or even wind. An enclosed room with no windows was as still and silent as a tomb, and she always found it hard to fall asleep. Shutting her eyes, she pulled the blanket up to her stomach, adjusting her pillow again, and shut her eyes. The darkness was so absolute in the room that closing her eyes made no difference.

“You got a few of them,” Mark said. “Maybe Cooper will realize how dangerous we are and move on to some other target.”

“We can only hope,” Melanie replied. “I wish I knew how many men he’s got left.”

“Twice now they’ve attacked, and both times it has been a decisive victory for us,” Mark said. “If he had an ounce of intelligence, he would realize his strategic disadvantage.”

“According to Josh, he’s a maniac, so we’ll have to wait and see.”

Despite the silence, despite her aches and pains, she realized sleep was coming on fast. She reached over in the darkness and gave Mark another loving pat on the arm, and then she was out. The sleep she fell into was troubled but deep, very deep, somewhere beneath the level of dreams.

It didn’t last long.

When sleep broke, it happened suddenly. Melanie lurched into wakefulness, like a drowning woman flung suddenly out of the water. She opened her eyes in the utter dark, staring into the void, and she felt the echo of some loud sound still thrumming in the air. At first, she couldn’t tell if it was the residue of a dream or if she’d been awakened by it.

Groaning, Melanie flung her blanket back and sat up on the bed. Mark continued to snore softly, and she tried not to rouse him as she climbed off the cot. Now that she was up and alert, she was sure she’d heard something. It still lingered in the air. She eased toward the door, fumbling along nearby shelves until she felt the cold, hard shape of the Beretta.

And then Shona began to shout. She was close, so her shrill cry was especially loud. Melanie almost jumped out of her skin.

“The booby trap! Someone set off the booby trap!” she cried.

Melanie stepped out into the hall and saw her daughter in the doorway of the library, facing the direction of the far corner. Nathan was beside her, gripping the doorframe.

“Shona, what happened?” Melanie said. She’d already heard her daughter’s shouting, but she needed to confirm. “Did you hear something?”

“That shotgun Lizzy set up at the back door,” Shona replied, her terrified face turning to look at her mom. “It went off. I heard someone cry out. I don’t think it was one of us.”

Melanie was wide awake now, and though she moved on aching, weak legs, she felt a surge of adrenaline that drove her down the hall. As she approached the far corner, she waved at her daughter to stay back. Other doors in the hallway swung open then, and she heard people approach. First Lizzy, rubbing her eyes with one hand and clutching the Mossberg shotgun with the other. Then Josh, a flashlight tucked in the pocket of his shirt, the lever-action rifle in his hands.

The factory was quiet again. Melanie didn’t hear any attackers.

“Is it possible the booby trap went off by itself?” she asked, slowly peering around the corner.

“Very unlikely,” Josh replied, coming up beside her. “Someone hit the trip wire. It’s the only way I can think of to pull the trigger.”

Melanie saw the stairs, the deep well of shadow above, and the back hallway. In her haste, she’d forgotten a flashlight, so she grabbed the one from Josh’s shirt pocket and aimed it into the far corner. Then she swept the light from right to left, from the hallway to the alcove and the supply closet doors. She saw no one. She heard nothing other than the ragged breathing and fidgety movements of the people behind her.

“Come on,” she whispered. Thrusting the handgun out in front of her, she crept around the corner and headed past the stairs.

“Maybe the trap worked,” Lizzy said. “Maybe one person tried to get inside and set it off.”

“Maybe,” Melanie replied. “Hopefully.”

Josh moved up on her left side, the butt of the rifle seated against his shoulder. Lizzy then moved to his left, so that they walked in a line from wall to wall. Rita wasn’t making any noise at the moment. Surely she’d heard the noise.

“Could’ve been an animal, I suppose,” Josh said quietly, as if thinking out loud. “Some wild animal nibbling on the trip wire.”

Melanie shushed him as she approached the corner beyond the stairs, aiming the light as she turned toward the back door. The contraption for the booby trap had been installed on the inside of the wall, the gun mounted to a crude framework and hinge just above the sabotaged section. A bit of gun smoke still lingered in the air, a single shell on the hard floor, a large ragged hole blasted through the thinnest part of the compromised panel. Indeed, someone had set off the trap.

She scarcely had time to react. Suddenly, a great force slammed into the back door, knocking the bolt out of the wall, breaking part of the doorframe, and sending the door flying inward until it banged off the wall. Melanie turned the flashlight toward the open door and caught sight of the men standing there. Dead center, his enormous blood-red beard hanging down, was Cooper, dressed in a heavy camouflage coat and aiming what appeared to be an AK-47 in her direction.

Another man stood on his right, tall and thin, someone Melanie did not know. He wore a black tactical vest, a camouflage hat with a long brim, and black pants. Steely eyes gazed up from under the brim of the hat. He, too, had a rifle of some kind pointed in her direction.

The man on Cooper’s left was familiar to her. He wore a striped shirt that was straight out of the ’50s, and in his right hand, he bore a large Magnum handgun.

“Brian.”

She scarcely had time to say his name before strong hands grabbed her and pulled her to one side. Stumbling, she fell against someone, even as she was guided back around the corner out of the firing line. It was Josh. He had moved her just in time.

The men at the back door opened fire. Melanie was trying to keep her balance as she was pulled around the corner, but she had a disoriented sense of bullets sizzling past her, punching holes in the wall. Brian was with Cooper, after all. Rita hadn’t killed him. Indeed, it seemed she’d told the truth about him leaving the compound while no one was looking.

“Move, move,” Josh said, propelling her past him toward the stairs and the alcove. “Find cover.”

Melanie rushed toward the alcove, pushing Lizzy ahead of her. She heard heavy boots from behind. Cooper and his men had ceased firing and were rushing down the hall. Within seconds, they would reach the corner. As she ran, Melanie thrust the Beretta over her shoulder, like some kind of trick shot expert, and fired back behind her. The gun was so close that her right ear went deaf. Still, she fired three shots, hoping to keep the attackers from charging around the corner.

Lizzy sprinting past the stairs. As she passed the alcove and the double doors that led into the food factory, she veered off to her right, as if she were considering going in that direction. Then she seemed to reconsider and headed for the hallway. Josh was right at Melanie’s shoulder, and he kept her moving forward. Otherwise, she might have turned to confront the intruders head-on.

We can’t let them get any farther inside the building, she thought. Shona is in here. Mark is in here. We have to drive them back.

She fired a couple more shots over her shoulder before reaching the far corner. Josh gave her a final push, as if to ensure she took cover, and she stumbled, catching herself against the wall.

“We can’t go this way,” she said. Lizzy was beside her, her back against the wall. “We’ll lead them right to the others. We have to drive them away!”

But she sensed movement down the hall. Shona and Nathan had come out of the library, both clutching the collar of a desperate and whimpering Dusty. Mr. Turner came out of his room next, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. And then, to her horror, she saw Mark lurching out of his bedroom as well, taking big stumbling steps like Frankenstein’s monster. He hit the doorframe with his shoulder and almost went down, but managed to thrust an arm out and catch himself.

“Go, go, go” Melanie said, waving the flashlight frantically in their direction. “Down the hall. Into the break room. Go!”

Shona responded first, releasing her hold on Dusty’s collar as she ran down the hall. In passing, she hooked her father around the arm and pulled him along, though this slowed her down considerably. Nathan went after them, and they soon disappeared into the dark break room. Mr. Turner brought up the rear.

That left Melanie, Lizzy, and Josh standing near the corner. A light was moving down past the stairs now as Cooper and his men approached. Melanie couldn’t see what they were doing, and she wasn’t foolish enough to stick her head around the corner. Glancing at Josh and Lizzy, she pointed at each of their guns in turn, then pointed toward the corner. Josh nodded. Lizzy just stared with wide, anxious eyes.

“Now is your chance to run.” Cooper’s voice, deep and slightly hoarse. “Get out of the building while you still can.”

Melanie was sorely tempted to respond, but what would she say? There was no negotiating now. At the very least, she might plead with Brian. He’d seemed reasonable, he’d felt friendly enough.

He just tried to kill you, Melanie reminded herself. You read him all wrong before. Your radar is off. The enemy was standing right in front of you, and you didn’t even know it.

Josh raised his rifle and nodded at her. Then he lunged around the corner and took a shot. Melanie intended to follow him, ducking around behind him to take a few shots with the handgun. However, Cooper and his men had been ready. Before she could take a single step, they opened fire.

She heard the bullets hitting Josh. As they penetrated his torso, they made a kind of dull thud, like an echo of the shots themselves. He got off a second shot, stumbling backward, face twisting in agony. Then a bullet hit him in the face. It pierced his cheek just to the right of his nose, splitting the skin before erupting out the back of his head in a bloody spray.

Numb, Melanie watched him fall backward, his legs crumpling beneath him. He hit the floor on his back, his head bouncing as his arms spread wide. The rifle clattered toward Melanie’s feet. She froze, waves of horror washing over her. He was gone. Just like that, Josh was gone. By sheer instinct, she almost went to him, intending to grab him and drag him out of the line of fire. However, Lizzy rushed toward her and thrust an arm out in front of her.

“No, don’t step out there,” she said in a harsh whisper. “Run! Follow the others. They have the strategic advantage right now.”

In the end, it was the sheer, skin-crawling horror that caused her to flee. Blood was already pouring from Josh’s head, his eyes half-closed and lifeless. She heard Cooper and his men moving in the hallway. Finally, with a whimper, she took off running down the hall toward the break room, Lizzy at her side. As she went, Melanie aimed behind her shoulder again and took a couple of shots just to keep the attackers at bay.

And then she rushed into the break room and kept going, past the table toward the reception area. She didn’t see the others. Had they kept running? Were they outside? She could scarcely think straight as she aimed for the front door and the parking lot beyond.

27

Driven by the horror of Josh’s death, Melanie rushed out into the night, shoving her way through the factory’s front door. She was moving so fast that she slid on some gravel and lost her balance, dropping onto her knees. In the process, she dropped both the flashlight and the Beretta. She was fumbling around on the pavement when Lizzy came up beside her.

“They killed him,” Lizzy said. As she picked up the flashlight, Melanie saw that she was weeping. “They killed Josh. Just like that, he’s gone.”

She placed the flashlight in Melanie’s left hand, then grabbed the Beretta and placed it in her right hand.

“Where are the others?” Melanie asked.

She looked around and spotted Shona ahead of her. She was guiding Mark across the parking lot toward the gate. Nathan, Mr. Turner, and Dusty were rushing to catch up to them. The gate was open, the latch somehow disassembled to create a gap just wide enough for people to pass through. As Melanie picked herself up, Shona and Mark fled through the gap and into the night.

“Wait,” Melanie said. “Where are we going?”

“Well, they got the drop on us,” Lizzy replied. “What else can we do? They just tried to kill us all, and they’re right behind us!”

“We can’t leave.” But Lizzy grabbed her by the arm and got her moving toward the gate.

“Get on the other side of the wall where they can’t shoot at us,” Lizzy said. “Then we can figure out what to do. Come on! They were right behind us.”

Lizzy had a point, but still, Melanie hated it. She hated leaving the factory compound. It felt like she was conceding defeat. Still, she kept going, moving fast, her skin crawling at the thought of being shot from behind.

“We’re just giving them the factory,” she said, her voice cracking.

“No, we’re getting out of the line of fire,” Lizzy replied. “That’s all.”

On the other side of the gate, Melanie saw Derrick’s old pickup truck parked maybe twenty yards away on the access road. The flat tires had been replaced. Shona guided Mark to the right, off the road and down into a ditch not far from the wall. Melanie clicked off the flashlight, pocketed it, and followed them. Poor Dusty was straining at her collar, as if the dog wanted to take off running into the night. Melanie didn’t blame her, but Nathan had a firm hold, and he guided her down into the ditch with Shona and Mark.

Melanie finally sank down into the shadows, feeling thick weeds beneath her. A few seconds passed, as she struggled to gather her thoughts. Lizzy was sobbing now, but it sounded like she was covering her mouth, trying to dampen the sound.

“Is it possible he lived?” she said. “Can a person survive being shot that many times?”

“He didn’t make it,” Melanie replied, still shaking with the horror of it. I watched him die right in front of me. I saw the light go out of his eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. “It was Brian. He was the saboteur. He was working for Cooper this whole time. I read him all wrong.”

She felt her way through the dark until she found Mark. He was lying on the ground, curled up on his side with his hands tucked under his cheek. He laid her hand on his shoulder, needing the reassurance of physical contact.

“How did they get through the gate?” Shona asked. She sounded like she was crying as well. “We fixed the latch, and Rita’s reinforcements were still in place.”

“I don’t know,” Melanie replied. She dared to lift her head, peering over the top of the ditch toward the factory wall. “Brian was helping Rita finish work on the gate when I left for the drugstore. Maybe he did something, made a way to disconnect it or something. I can’t tell in the dark, but it doesn’t matter now. Somehow, they opened the gate and got inside.”

They were low enough at least that they were below the line of sight of the factory’s second story. That meant the men inside wouldn’t be able to spot them and shoot at them. For the moment, they were out of the line of fire. Still, Melanie was shocked to see the outside of the wall.

“He did it,” she muttered. “Cooper got us out of the factory. Just like that. I can’t believe it. All of that fighting, all of those preparations, and it’s over.”

“It’s not over,” Mr. Turner said. “Don’t say that. They got the drop on us, but we’re still armed, aren’t we?”

“I’ve got the Mossberg,” Lizzy said. “Melanie’s got a pistol.”

“We should have expected an attack in the middle of the night,” Melanie said. “We should have planned for it. What was I thinking?”

Mark cleared his throat then and spoke, though he sounded weak. “They came in shooting. I heard it. We had seconds to react. If we’d stayed in there, more people would have died. We had no choice, Mel.”

“Okay, okay,” Melanie replied. He was trying to comfort her, but it didn’t quite work. “I just need to think. Give me a minute, so I can figure out what to do next.”

All of those weapons, all of those supplies, the food and medicine, the clean water—all of it just abandoned. It made her sick to think of it. She couldn’t let Cooper take it from her, but as she stared back at the gate and wall, she realized she didn’t have any easy ideas for getting back inside and taking out the attackers.

“I hope our booby trap killed at least one of them,” Lizzy said. “That’s some consolation. I just wish it had been Cooper. Or Brian.”

“Let me think,” Melanie muttered. “We have to get back in there and drive them out. Let me think.”

As she was staring at the wall, she heard a kind of low thud, and suddenly the whole factory compound awoke with light. The artificial lights created a kind of luminous haze that rose above the wall. It was a ghostly sight.

“They cranked on all the generators,” she said, “and turned on all of the lights.”

“A waste of fuel,” Mark noted.

“We have to get back in there.” Melanie rose to her hands and knees and crawled up the side of the ditch. Lizzy grabbed her sleeve, but she pulled free.

“No, don’t go out there,” Lizzy said. “It’s not safe.”

“I have to take a look,” Melanie replied. “We’re not just going to lie here in a ditch while they burn through our fuel and go through our supplies.”

“This is how Josh got shot!”

“No, it’s not. Stay there.”

Melanie waved for the others to stay down as she left the ditch and crept toward the gate. Holding the pistol out in front of her, she picked her way through the deepest shadows as she approached the narrow gate. She could see harsh light shining on the parking lot, revealing the residue of large blood puddles from the day’s earlier battle.

Three men, she thought. I saw three men. Maybe that’s all they have left. We can take on three men, if we can just figure out how to get the drop on them.

She glanced back to make sure none of the others had followed her, then crept up to the wall, pressing her back against it. Slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible, she slid toward the open gate then leaned into the gap, peering through. There was some kind of noise coming from inside the building. Someone running, perhaps? Melanie wasn’t sure.

From her spot beside the gate, she could see the entire front of the building. The door was shut, and the upstairs window was covered with plywood. Still, she could see interior lights shining through the gaps. Cooper and his men had turned on all of the lights. What was the purpose? It was so wasteful. Melanie aimed the Beretta through the gap, pointing it at the front door.

I’ve got at least a few shots left, she thought. I just need one of those men to poke his head outside. Come on, Brian. Give me one clean shot.

Indeed, almost as if it were an answer to prayer, she saw someone moving in the distance. A person running along the side of the building, coming from the direction of the back door. Melanie swung the pistol toward them, her finger brushing the trigger. She almost fired. Indeed, she’d just begun to pull the trigger when she realized who it was. A woman sprinting along the wall, a woman in a beige one-piece factory uniform, the sleeves rolled past her elbows.

Melanie lowered the gun so she wouldn’t accidentally shoot. Rita was running like an escapee from a prison camp. She no longer had the handcuffs on her wrists, and Melanie wondered if the men had set her free. But why? Why would they have released her and let her run away?

So, she can find us and infiltrate our family again, she thought.

And that made her raise the gun again. Rita was headed for the gate. But Melanie saw someone behind Rita. Someone had come through the back door, and just as Rita reached the front parking lot, that person opened fire. Bullets pinged off the pavement. Rita wrapped her arms over her head and lunged around the front of the building. In the process, she stumbled, tripped over her own feet, and fell hard. She landed on her side and rolled.

Now, Melanie saw two things. First, a man standing beside the back door. Though there was quite a bit of distance between them, she could tell it was the man she didn’t know. Second, she saw another crumpled corpse on the ground near the booby-trapped section of wall. Indeed, the booby trap had taken out another of Cooper’s men.

Melanie hated to give her position away, but she couldn’t resist taking a shot at the man by the back door. She aimed carefully, bracing her gun arm against the gate. She fired, and the man immediately ducked back inside the building. The door swung shut behind him.

Maybe I clipped him, Melanie thought. Maybe I hit an artery and he’ll bleed out.

It seemed unlikely. Indeed, she was pretty sure she’d missed. However, Rita was able to pick herself up and head for the gate. She was limping now, and Melanie spotted what appeared to be a ragged tear in her pants just above the ankle. As soon as she was within reach, Melanie grabbed her arm and helped her through the open gate.

“They got me,” Rita said. “I think it’s just a flesh wound, but I can’t tell. Stings like crazy!”

“How did you get out of there? Did they unlock the handcuffs?”

“It’s not that hard to get out of handcuffs,” Rita replied, stepping behind the wall. She bent down and pulled up her pant leg, feeling around for the wound. “All you have to do is dislocate your thumbs and pull. And you put them on pretty loosely to begin with. I could have gotten out of them at any time, but I didn’t want you to think I was working for the bad guys.”

“You stayed in those handcuffs just to prove your innocence?” Melanie said.

“That’s right. Did it work?”

“I…I think so,” Melanie said with a sigh.

Rita lifted her head and gave her a withering gaze. “You think so? Well, gee, that’s nice. I almost made it out the building safely, but the stupid stairs creaked, and they came running. I’ve got a nasty slash across the side of my leg here, but I guess I’ll live.”

“You didn’t happen to grab a gun on your way out, did you?” Melanie asked.

Rita patted her pockets and shrugged. “I’m afraid my priority was running the hell away.”

“It’s fine. Come on.” Melanie beckoned her and headed toward the ditch, which looked like a great well of shadow in the night.

Rita followed, but she was limping even worse now. The adrenaline that had sent her running out of the building was clearly wearing off, and maybe the wound was deeper than it seemed. As Melanie dropped down beside Mark, Rita collapsed into the dark with a moan.

“These guys are ruthless,” she said. “They had no qualms about shooting an unarmed person in the back.”

That’s it, then, Melanie thought. We lost the factory. We lost Josh, and that’s it.

28

There wasn’t much to say, and even less to do, so they sat in that damned dark ditch for long minutes. Melanie stewed in her thoughts, trying to think of some way to take the place back. The impact of losing Josh kept her in a hopeless state of mind, and for a while, she just lay there in the weeds and held Mark’s hand, listening to a gentle breeze sighing through the ditch.

At some point, the lights in the factory switched off again, plunging them into even deeper darkness. Melanie heard the breathing of her loved ones, the occasional whispered word from Shona and Nathan as they comforted each other. Dusty had settled down, but she still heard the poor dog whimper from time to time.

“We could steal the pickup truck, at least,” Mr. Turner said suddenly, after much time had passed. “That would serve them right. What do you say?”

“Could we drive it through the gate and maybe take them by surprise?” Mark said. She was surprised to hear this suggestion from her husband considering how sick he still was.

“No, we’re not taking any big risks,” Melanie said. “A single wrong step got Josh killed, and I won’t risk losing anyone else.”

“So, we’re just giving up on the factory?” Mr. Turner said.

“Absolutely not.” She said this a little too loudly, and she clamped her mouth shut until she could get ahold of herself. “Absolutely not,” she said again quietly. “They’ll be on high alert, ready to respond if we try to get back inside, so we’ll wait until they don’t expect us, but I swear to God, we’re getting the factory back.”

She let go of Mark’s hand and rose, brushing herself off.

“Are we going somewhere?” Mark asked.

“With the lights off, it’ll be easier to slip away,” Melanie said. “We can’t just lie here in this ditch out in the open.”

Now that she was moving, she found it easier to take the next step. She was furious that Cooper had outsmarted her so easily. She was sick at the thought of leaving the factory. Still, they had to take the next step. Melanie dared to turn on the flashlight and shine it down the ditch for a second. She saw her loved ones sprawled in the weeds like refugees, dirty and weary and scared. Dusty looked up at her and rose, ready to go.

“Okay, come on,” Melanie said. “Get up. We’re going.”

“Going where?” Lizzy asked. “Not back into the factory, surely. They’ll gun us down the second we try to step inside.”

“No, the factory will wait,” Melanie said. “We’re getting it back, believe me, but for now, for tonight, we’re going somewhere else. We need a roof over our heads, at least. Mark, can you walk?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he replied.

“But where are we going?” Lizzy asked. “It’s not like we have some second home to run to.”

“There’s that shopping center not far from here,” Melanie said. “Most of it burned, I know, but there was an auto body shop that was still intact. Do you remember?”

“I remember,” Lizzy said, picking herself up. “Will we be safe there?”

“Safer than lying here in this ditch,” Melanie said. “We can regroup, recover, and figure out our next move. Come on. No sense lingering here and feeling sorry for ourselves. We lost. We let our guard down for a little bit, and we lost the factory. But there’s no sense whining about it. Let’s go.”

She reached for Mark, took his hand, and helped him up. Then she got him moving again, heading down the ditch parallel to the factory wall. The auto body shop was on a small hill across a field south of Beaton’s. She couldn’t see it in the night, but she thought she could find her way there.

“Rita, can you walk?” she asked.

“I’ll make it,” Rita replied. “So, you’re letting me come with you?”

“I am,” Melanie said. “I directed my suspicions at the wrong person, and I’m sorry about that. Brian had me fooled.”

“He had us all fooled,” Rita said. “I thought he was a nice guy, but he’s just another weasel. They’re a dime a dozen these days.”

Melanie led the way, keeping Mark at her side. Lizzy and Mr. Turner came next, and Shona and Nathan behind them, occasionally having to encourage Dusty to follow. Rita brought up the rear.

Once they were beyond the corner of the factory wall, Melanie dared to leave the ditch and cut southwest across the overgrown field beyond. The wild grass grew almost to her knees, so it dragged at her as she walked. It made more noise than she wanted, but it couldn’t be helped. When she glanced in the direction of the factory, she saw only the dim rooftop rising above the outer wall. All was still and quiet there now. No doubt Cooper and Brian were reveling in all of the treasure they’d claimed. They were like conqueror kings now.

It was slow going, and after a while the distant shopping center seemed to rise out of the shadows. Melanie spotted the auto body shop, a small building with big windows along the front. It sat beside a fence on top of a low rise, a driveway circle in front. This was the place where they’d gathered before breaking into the factory weeks earlier.

By the time they reached the hill, the first hint of morning light burned along the eastern horizon. In that faint light, Melanie saw broken and cracked windows along the front of the shop. She trudged up the hill, following the gravel driveway, but she looked over her shoulder to the others. No one had spoken during the long slog across the field. Indeed, a morose silence had fallen over the group. She could feel it, like a thickening of the air around them.

Shona was quietly crying, brushing the tears away with her sleeve. For some reason, that finally broke through Melanie’s cold determination, and she felt tears burning in her own eyes. She tried to wipe them away discreetly. At least Mark was doing better. He was able to walk mostly on his own. Indeed, the person having the most trouble was Rita, who was still limping pretty badly, a pained grimace on her face.

They were approaching the front door of the auto body shop when Mark finally broke the silence.

“I have to ask,” he said. “About Josh. Did he…did he suffer?”

“No,” Melanie replied. “That’s the only mercy in this whole miserable situation. I think he was gone by the time he hit the floor.”

As she said it, however, she felt a crushing grief, like a weight filling her chest, and she realized that it was the loss of Josh that had hit her hardest. Not Brian’s betrayal, not even the loss of the factory.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Mark said. “I wish I’d been there to help him.”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Melanie replied.

She tested the door of the shop and found that it had been kicked in at some point. Opening it, she stepped into a lobby that had been looted and picked over. Still, there were some chairs here, and she guided Mark toward one of them, easing him down. As the others entered the shop, they all collapsed. Rita took one of the other chairs. Shona and Nathan preferred to sit on the floor in a corner. Lizzy sat on the edge of a small table near the cash register.

“Just a few weeks ago, Josh was a complete outsider,” Melanie said, sitting down beside Mark. “Even when he joined us, I didn’t fully trust him, but somehow, gradually, he became like family. We never would have survived as long as we did without his help. Mark, you owe him your life. He looked after you better than I did.” She felt fresh tears, but this time, she let them fall. What was the use of wiping away tears when more were sure to follow?

“He was a good man,” Lizzy said. “Always had great ideas. Always trying to help. Never complained.”

“And he’s gone because I trusted Brian too easily,” Melanie replied. “I questioned him, and he gave decent answers, but the real reason I decided to trust him was because I thought he gave off good vibes. Can you believe it? Reading vibes like I’m some kind of new age guru.” She found that she was too restless to sit, so she stood and began to wander the room. “Because of my upbringing, because of what I went through, I always thought I was a good judge of character, but I got this one wrong. Boy, did I ever. He had me fooled.”

Needing something to do, she began rooting through cabinets and drawers inside the shop. Unfortunately, most of them seemed to have been picked clean, but she found a few remaining tools and some junk. As she found them, she set them on the counter beside the cash register.

“It wasn’t a mistake to trust Brian,” Lizzy said, getting up to help her. “You did the same thing with Josh. Heck, Josh started off as our enemy, but you decided to trust him, and it was a good thing. Was it a risk? Of course. He was Derrick’s friend. He could have betrayed us, stabbed us in the back, but he didn’t. He turned out to be a good friend. You see, Mel, it’s not wrong to give people a chance, and Brian seemed like he was helping us.” She found a small box of nails and set them on the counter.

“Then what did I do wrong?” Melanie replied.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Lizzy said. “Trusting people is always a risk, and you can’t avoid taking risks. That’s just the way it goes. Sometimes, you have to give people a chance to prove themselves, but when you do, they might fail you. That’s life.”

“That’s life,” Melanie muttered. She found a set of Allen wrenches on a key ring and set them beside the other items. Lizzy was right though. Risks were unavoidable. They’d needed Brian’s help, so she’d hoped for the best.

Rita had her right leg crossed over her left, and she was examining her wound. Melanie saw it clearly now in the morning light, a large slash that cut from back to front on the side of her leg a few inches above her ankle. It was ugly, but it had stopped bleeding, at least.

“So, what are we going to do now?” Rita asked. “You’re not planning to put down roots here in this little shop, are you?”

Melanie shut the drawer and examined the stash of supplies they’d cobbled together. None of it was particularly useful. She crossed her arms, feeling cold and tired and angry. She gave Rita a long, hard look. Another stranger who had started out as an enemy.

Am I really going to trust her now? Talk about taking risks.

“I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” Melanie said. “We’re going to take the factory back.” And as she said it, she felt herself smiling. It was a cold smile, determined, maybe even a little crazed. “It’s our home, and we’re going to take it back by any means possible.”

29

Eventually, having nothing else to do and being unable to rest, everyone got involved in searching the shop. Melanie had to bring some order to the process, so she assigned people to specific areas. Shona, Nathan, and Dusty went to the shop floor. Lizzy, Rita, and Mr. Turner were assigned to the back offices. And Melanie and Mark continued to pick through the store, opening every drawer, cabinet, and box they could find.

Melanie found a couple of large empty cardboard boxes that had formerly contained oil cans. She set them near the front door of the shop as containers for whatever they scrounged up. The shop had clearly been abandoned since the EMP. Despite looting, the back-office area was quite cluttered, not unlike Derrick’s old office, and she heard Lizzy and her father digging through the stacks.

“Are we looking for anything in particular?” Mark asked. He had taken the stool from behind the cash register and set it in front of a cupboard so he could sit while he slowly worked his way through them.

“We have to formulate some kind of plan for getting back inside the factory,” Melanie said. “I don’t yet know what that’s going to be, but I’m working on it. So, anything that looks even marginally useful will help us come up with ideas.”

From the shop floor, Shona unleashed a deep yawn. Yes, they were all exhausted, having been deprived of a full night’s sleep. Melanie was tempted to give them the day to catch up on sleep, but she hated the thought of wasting so much time. The longer they waited, the more Cooper and Brian could dig themselves in at the factory.

Mark wasn’t doing great, even though he was up and moving. He was sluggish, and he seemed out of breath.

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Melanie said, as he pulled a big box of assorted nails out of a cupboard. “It’s going to be a long day, and we need you to be okay. If you have to lie down for a little while, go ahead and do it. We can make a pallet on the floor or something.”

“I’ve been lying in bed for days,” Mark replied, tossed the nails into one of the big cardboard boxes beside the front door. “I’m a bit shaky, but I’d rather be moving around.”

Under the counter beneath the cash register, Melanie found a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer, the blue labels shining in the early morning sunlight. She pulled the case out and set it on the counter. They were twelve-ounce bottles, but it looked like the case had been dropped at some point. Many of the bottles were broken, and the packaging was warped, as if it had been soaked with beer then dried at some point. Melanie began unloading the intact bottles and setting them on the counter.

“Breaking out the PBR?” Mark said, with a wry smile. “I guess we could all use some liquid courage.”

“Mostly, I just need the empty bottles,” Melanie replied. She used the edge of the counter, and a well-placed smack with the palm of her hand, to knock the cap off one of the bottles. Then she took a long swig of warm beer. “Want some?” She thrust the bottle at Mark.

“I’m not much of Pabst fan, but I suppose we can’t be choosy about our booze these days.” He shuffled over to the counter and took the bottle from her. “What’s the plan? Why do you need empty bottles?”

“Well, it kind of depends on what Shona and Nathan have found,” she replied. “Empty that bottle for me, would you? I’ll be right back.”

As Mark took a seat on the stool and polished off the beer, Melanie headed into the shop floor. Shona, Nathan, and Dusty were working their way along the tool racks and tables at the back of the room. They’d built up a small stack of scavenged supplies on one of the tables, and among the stuff they’d looted, Melanie saw a number of greasy old rags.

“Mom, what are we going to do with all of this stuff?” Shona asked. “How is it going to get us back inside the factory?”

“I’m working on a plan,” Melanie replied, gathering up the rags. “Just keep gathering supplies while I work out the particulars in my head.” And then, because of the awful grimace on Shona’s face, she added, “How are you two doing?”

Shona and Nathan traded a glance. Melanie saw a whole lot of grief and fear in that brief look. Nathan touched Shona’s shoulder, as if to comfort her. No, they weren’t doing well. That was obvious.

“It kind of feels like maybe I’m still asleep and having a bad dream,” Shona said. “I can’t believe Josh is gone. Cooper killed his own friend.”

“Josh and Cooper never got along,” Nathan replied, picking screwdrivers of various sizes off a pegboard. “Anyway, if there was ever a friendship, it ended the second Josh decided to help us. That made him a marked man.”

“It’s a shame,” Shona said with a sigh. “I feel like we’re partially responsible for his death.”

Melanie had a wad of oil-soaked rags in her hands. She started to head back into the front office, but she paused. This was something she had to address before it took root in her daughter’s mind.

“No, that’s now how it works,” Melanie said. “You’re never responsible for someone else choosing evil. We could have worked things out with Cooper, just like we worked things out with Josh. He’s the one who decided to attack.”

“Okay, Mom,” Shona muttered. “If you say so.”

“I say so. Now, do me a favor. See if there’s any gasoline stored in here. Make that a priority.”

Melanie had to leave it there for now. She headed back into the front office just as Mark finished off the last swig of beer. He set the empty bottle on the counter and belched loud and long.

“Okay, I feel better now,” he said. “Warm PBR tastes better than I remember.”

Melanie grabbed the empty bottle and took it back behind the counter. She shoved one of the oily rags into the neck of the bottle to see how easily it would fit.

“What are we making?” Mark asked. “Molotov cocktails?”

“Exactly,” Melanie replied. “I’m sure there’s gasoline around here somewhere. We’re going to fill these bottles and soak the rags.” She held up the bottle and mimed throwing it hard over her shoulder. “I don’t know how good my throwing arm is. What do you think?”

“Better than mine at the moment,” Mark replied.

Lizzy and Mr. Turner came back into the room just then, each bearing armfuls of looted supplies. They were just in time to see Melanie practicing her throw.

“Something tells me you’ve come up with a crazy idea for taking back the factory, Mel,” Lizzy said, dumping her supplies into one of the cardboard boxes.

“Yes, and it involves polishing off some beer,” Melanie replied. She grabbed a couple of intact bottles out of the case and set them on the counter. “Each of you take a beer and drain it. We could just pour them out, but that seems like a waste.”

Lizzy didn’t have to be told twice. She rushed over to the counter and picked up one of the bottles. Mr. Turner produced a key chain with a bottle opener and snapped the cap off for her. Then he grabbed the other bottle.

“I haven’t had a beer since this whole thing started,” Lizzy said, taking a long swig. “Ooh, not bad. Not bad at all.” She took a second long swig. “Oh my goodness. It’s warm and it’s cheap, but it hits the spot.”

“I’d prefer a bourbon old-fashioned, to be honest,” Mr. Turner said, before removing the cap on his bottle, “but this’ll do. Thanks, Mel.”

“Thank the shop owner who left it here,” Melanie said. “Just hurry and empty those bottles.”

Dusty came trotting into the room then, panting as she led the way for Shona and Nathan. Melanie heard sloshing liquid and realized Nathan was carrying a large plastic jerry can. He set it on the floor near the cash register.

“This smells like gasoline,” he said, gesturing at the can. “There’s gotta be at least a couple of gallons in there. Is it enough?”

“It’ll do,” Melanie replied. She picked up the jerry can and set it beside the crate of beer. “Good job, guys.”

Melanie realized everyone was staring at her then. They’d seen the bottles, the oily rags, and now the gasoline. It didn’t take much thought to put the pieces of this plan together, and she nodded at them to confirm what they were all clearly thinking.

“Yes,” she said. She dug into the counter beneath the cash register and produced a plastic lighter she’d found there earlier. She set it beside the case of beer. “We’re going to take the factory back with fire, guns, and heavy tools.”

30

As her words sank in, she saw their expressions change. Shona and Nathan grabbed hands and held on tightly, and Mr. Turner finally polished off the rest of his beer in one long pull, as if he needed it more than ever. Rita managed to drink a bottle of beer the fastest, choking it down in three furious gulps, as if she were getting revenge on Mr. Pabst himself.

“With fire, guns, and heavy tools,” Lizzy echoed, breathlessly. “Doesn’t it kind of defeat the purpose if we burn the whole building down?”

“We’re not burning the whole building down,” Melanie replied, and then, because she couldn’t bring herself to lie, she added, “if we can help it.” And that was the truth. She’d formulated a plan based on what they’d scrounged up in the mechanic’s shop, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t do more harm than good in the process. Still, when Melanie looked at the people gathered before her, none of them seemed resistant to her idea. Josh’s death had certainly made an impact.

“A few makeshift bombs won’t get us inside the factory though,” Mr. Turner said. “There’s still the matter of being outgunned.”

“They’ll be keeping an eye on that front gate,” Mark noted. He was seated on the stool again, but leaning against the counter. “By now, they’ve probably closed and latched it again, but even so, at least one of them will be guarding it. Are we going to lob these bombs over the wall and try to lure them out, sort of like they did with the grenades?”

“A frontal assault is unlikely to work,” Melanie said. She met Lizzy’s gaze and nodded in her direction. As she spoke, she carefully poured gasoline into the empty beer bottles using a plastic funnel, then stuffed rags into the neck of each bottle. “That’s why we won’t be attacking from the front.”

“So, over the wall, then?” Mr. Turner asked. He was standing near the boxes of supplies, his arms crossed. He was still dressed in the t-shirt and sweatpants he’d gone to bed with, and he had a pair of woolen slippers on his feet. “It didn’t work so well when one of their men tried to scale the wall near the back door.”

“Yeah, I shot that guy. Look, Cooper and his men may have taken the factory, but they don’t know it the way Lizzy and I do,” Melanie said, lining up three Molotov cocktails on the counter. “They don’t know the best places to hide, the places some of us long-time workers went when we needed peace and quiet during a break.” Lizzy gave her a knowing nod and smile. “Even if Derrick gave Cooper a tour of the facility when they were stockpiling supplies, I doubt he showed him all the little nooks and crannies, the isolated rooms and the weird little closets tucked in out-of-the-way places.”

“Yeah, I doubt it, too,” Nathan said. He was sitting on the floor, his arms wrapped around Dusty. “I had hiding places in that building that Dad didn’t even know about.”

“Furthermore,” Melanie added, “Cooper doesn’t know about the little problem Lizzy has been working so hard to fix. Actually, none of you do. I’ve had her on a secret project for the past week or so, and it’s going to give us a distinct advantage.”

This caused everyone to turn and look at Lizzy, who gave them a mischievous smile and raise of the eyebrows. “That’s right, friends,” she said. “I didn’t really have a bad case of diarrhea that lasted for days. I was hard at work the whole time.”

Melanie filled the fourth and final bottle, then set the jerry can on the ground at her feet. “Cooper may have an advantage being inside the factory, but it’s only an advantage until we get inside there too.” She stuffed the final rag into the neck of the bottle. “Once we’re all on even footing, then the game changes. Cooper has no idea what’s coming. He surprised us last night, but we’re going to surprise him now.”

She grabbed a small cardboard box from among their scavenged supplies and lined the bottles up inside, then she set it beside the rest of their stuff.

“Well, honey, it sounds to me like you’ve got it all figured out,” Mark said.

Melanie went to him and put an arm across his shoulder. As he leaned against her, she patted him and said, “Not all of it, and there’s still a lot of risk involved. Lizzy, did you ever manage to fix the problem I had you working on?”

Lizzy gave her a big grin and shook her head. “Nope. The problem is still there.”

“Good.”

Mr. Turner had apparently had enough of the vagueness, and he uttered a loud harrumph and turned to his daughter. “Okay, come on, now. Why are we treating this like a government secret? What is the problem you were supposed to be working on, Lizzy?”

“Well, Dad, if you must know,” Lizzy replied, still grinning, “before everything changed, the factory had been in the process of getting a new storm drain installed. The parking lot used to flood in heavy rain, and sometimes water seeped into the factory, so I guess they had a solution in the works. I found contractor plans in Derrick’s office recently when I was checking the inventory list for medical supplies. When I checked on the drainpipe’s progress, I found that it had never been completed.”

“When Lizzy told me about it, I was worried that someone on the outside might find the drain entrance,” Melanie said, “and use it to get inside the building, even though it was partially hidden out in the field.”

“That’s funny,” Mark said. “I remember you complaining about drain work maybe a month or two ago. You came home after your shift frustrated about it. I’d forgotten about that until just now. So, you had Lizzy working on sealing the drainpipe, and you didn’t mention it?”

“Almost,” Melanie replied. “Technically, I was having her clear it of debris, so we could then fill it in properly. We had planned to seal and booby trap it, but Lizzy never made it that far. Clearing it proved more challenging that we expected. I didn’t say anything about the drain because of…well, our newcomers.”

She glanced in Rita’s direction. Rita was standing in the corner, idly massaging her wrists. Melanie wondered if they still hurt from the handcuffs. She felt bad about that, but then again, what choice had she had?

“It’s a good thing you didn’t say anything about it,” Rita said. “Especially with what we know about Brian now.”

“Right. Exactly.” Melanie felt a twinge of guilt once again for misjudging both of the newcomers, but she pushed it down. It was made all the worse by the blood-soaked bandage visible just beneath the hem of Rita’s pants. “So, Lizzy, how far along did you get with the drainpipe?”

“Oh, it’s mostly clear on the factory side,” Lizzy said. “I still had a bit of work to do on the other end, so we’ll have to pull some weeds to find the entrance, but fortunately, I never got far enough in the project to seal it.”

As this realization set in, Melanie saw the looks on the faces of the people before her transform. They had a way in! A way that Cooper didn’t know about! Nathan and Shona traded a wide-eyed look of alarm. Clearly, Shona wasn’t too excited about this. Mr. Turner, on the other hand, seemed somber, grim, ready to avenge his new friend Josh.

“I wanted to seal that drainpipe because I was afraid of outsiders using it,” Melanie said, “but we’re the outsiders now, and that’s how we’re getting back into the factory. We only have a handgun and a shotgun, we don’t have any grenades, and we don’t have a truck to ram the gate, but it won’t matter. We’ll creep through the pipe, come out inside the factory floor, and get into the gun case in the supply room.”

“So, there’s still going to be a gun fight then,” Lizzy said.

Melanie bowed her head, trying to drive the image of dying Josh out of her mind. It was too clear, the blood pooling around his head as the light left his eyes.

“Yes, we’ll arm ourselves once we’re inside,” she said, “and then we’re going to have one more gunfight with these people, and if we want to keep any more of our people from being killed, we’ll have to be brutally efficient.” She still had her arm around Mark, and he reached up now and grabbed her hand. “There’s no other way.”

“Then let’s do it,” Mark replied. “Swift, brutal, and efficient, without any more losses on our side.”

31

No one voiced a complaint about the plan, though Melanie could see that everyone was not fully on board. Shona seemed particularly distressed, endlessly wringing her hands. Rita stood back in her corner, arms crossed, and just stared blankly at the floor.

Can I trust her now? Melanie wondered. Is there a chance she’ll turn on us during the fight, maybe out of sheer resentment for her unjust imprisonment?

She wanted to discuss this with Rita, but she feared that bringing up the topic might make things even more tense. The last thing they needed before planning an assault was to dredge up bad feelings. Still, things had to be smoothed over somehow.

“Well, if that’s the plan,” Mr. Turner said, “when is zero hour?” He gestured toward the broken front windows. Bright late morning sunlight was streaming in now. “It’s a cloudless day, by the look of it. Probably not an ideal time to make our assault.”

Melanie walked to the nearest window and gazed outside. Indeed, the sun shining down over the storefront made the field beside the factory wall especially bright. She scanned the tall grass, looking for the spot where the drainpipe came out, but it was too overgrown to see from this distance. Still, anyone walking across that field would be highly visible. If Cooper had someone posted on the rooftop of the factory, they would have a clear line of sight.

“Oh, damn it,” she muttered. “Are we really going to have to wait until nightfall?”

“Sure looks like it,” Mr. Turner said, coming up beside her. “Unless you think we can Army crawl beneath the weeds without being spotted.”

A ludicrous suggestion, clearly a joke, but Melanie was tempted to consider it. “No, we’ll wait until the sun goes down.” She turned to face the others. “I guess this is our chance to get some rest before the assault. Find a place to rest, if you can. I’ll go through the supplies we gathered and see what else we need.”

“You need to rest, as well,” Mark said. “Mel, we’re going to need you fully awake and alert. This whole thing doesn’t work without you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she replied. “Okay, I’ll try to rest, too.”

Why pretend? You’re going to be wide awake, and every minute today is going to be torture.

No reason to share this. She took another long look out of the window, across the bright field, where the high grass was moving in waves as a wind blew through. On the far side, the imposing gray wall of Beaton’s rose up to defy them.

“After tonight, it’ll all be over,” she whispered.

* * *

Melanie stacked some flat packs of cardboard boxes in the space behind the counter and created a crude pallet that was just big enough for her and Mark to lie down. It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but it was bearable. Mark curled up on his side and soon went to sleep, snoring softly in the way he always did. Melanie lay on her back, her hands folded on her stomach, and stared at the dingy ceiling overhead.

As for the others, she heard them scattering in various directions around the building. Melanie knew she wouldn’t sleep, and indeed, she didn’t. A few times, she drifted into a vague semiconscious state, but she never managed to drop completely out of the world. The impending assault was looming in her mind too brightly, and she couldn’t shut off the light.

The Beretta sat on the edge of the counter, always within reach. However, the outside world was strangely quiet this day. Every time she dared to open her eyes, the quality of the light had changed in the room, and eventually, after hours of non-sleep, it began to deepen toward purple. Finally, with Mark still snoring away beside her, she sat up and tried to rub the residue of weariness out of her eyes.

She heard Shona and Nathan chatting quietly somewhere, so she rose and looked around. The cardboard boxes full of supplies were set against the wall near the front door. She’d removed a few tools that she thought might be helpful and put them in the small box with the beer bottles. As she stepped out from behind the counter, she spotted Shona and Nathan through the open shop door. They were sitting together with Dusty in the shadow of a worktable.

Night was falling fast. The time had come. Melanie cleared her throat and began to call the others.

“It’s time! Everyone get up! Night is here!”

Lizzy came shuffling out of the back office, rubbing her eyes, followed by Mr. Turner and Rita. Rita’s sleeves were rolled back, and Melanie noted distinct bruising around her wrists.

“It’s time to get going,” Melanie said. “Bring the guns. Bring the tools and bottles. It’s time.”

As Lizzy and Mr. Turner went to the boxes, Melanie approached Rita. The newcomer gave her a questioning look, one eyebrow going up, as if she expected to be verbally attacked.

“After all you’ve been through, are you sure you want to help us with this assault?” Melanie asked. “You’re putting your life on the line for some people who haven’t always treated you well.”

“Oh, you mean chaining me to a pipe for an entire day?” Rita said with a bitter laugh. “Believe it or not, I don’t blame you for doing that. Look, I don’t feel all that friendly toward you people, if I’m being perfectly honest, but I’ll get over it. Give me some time. More importantly, I really want to get a shot at Brian. That dude tricked me with his big sob story so I’d get him inside the factory. He used me, and I’m ready to even the score.”

“Okay, well, I’m glad to have you on the team,” Melanie said. “Let’s load up our gear and get going.”

She grabbed the Beretta and put it in the pocket of her sweatpants. Then she grabbed the box of Molotov cocktails and hoisted it under her left arm. As she opened the front door, she heard the others rooting through the tools. A strong wind was blowing in from the northwest. That seemed like a stroke of luck as it might carry any sound they made away from the factory.

“Lizzy, get up here with me,” Melanie said, beckoning her friend. “You and I will lead the way to the drainpipe exit.”

As Lizzy stepped up beside her, the others fell in line behind. Mark and Mr. Turner formed the second row, then Rita by herself, and finally Shona and Nathan with the dog. Melanie wasn’t entirely comfortable bringing Dusty with them. She could panic, bark, and give away their location. Still, it didn’t seem right to abandon the loyal dog, not even now.

“Shona and Nathan, keep a tight rein on Dusty,” she said over her shoulder. “We can’t have her running off or making a bunch of noise.”

“Dusty listens to us,” Nathan said. “We’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything crazy.”

“Good.” Melanie looked at each person in turn and felt the full weight of what they were about to attempt. She was putting every life on the line. “Let’s be as quiet as possible. Use cover. Don’t become an easy target. Shoot first, no hesitation. We can’t afford to lose anyone else. Okay? Let’s go.”

And with that, feeling a moment of deep grief over the loss of Josh, she stepped outside and headed across the gravel driveway. When she entered the field, it was like wading into water that rose to her knees. In the distance, the factory was dark, a dim edifice glowering in the gloom. Since Lizzy knew the way to the drainpipe best, she motioned for her friend to lead. Lizzy cut across the field to the southwest, heading down a slope into even deeper weeds. They moved lightly, making little sound other than the slight whisper of parting weeds.

As they drew closer to the factory, Melanie strained to hear anything coming from beyond the wall, but it was silent in there. The invaders had had a full day inside Beaton’s. And what had they done in that time? Picked through all of the supplies? Gorged on food? Picked through the personal possessions of those who had fled? All of these possibilities made her furious.

A little over two-thirds of the way across the field, Lizzy came to a sudden stop and thrust her arms out to either side. The ground before her looked like more of the same weed-choked field, but Lizzy crouched down and began swiping her arms at the weeds around her feet. After a moment, she rose, gave the others a thumbs-up, then dropped into a crouch. Duck-walking, she seemed to sink into the weeds, and then she was gone.

“Follow her lead,” Melanie whispered over her shoulder. “That’s the way. It’s dark in there, and the ceiling is very low, so be careful.”

Strengthening her grip on the small box, she squatted and followed Lizzy, duck-walking awkwardly in the same direction. She felt the ground angle down sharply, and suddenly, she passed through a screen of wild grass and weeds, finding herself in some kind of utterly dark tunnel. It was perhaps four feet high, maybe a bit less, and she could tell by the slight hum of air in front of her that it stretched off for some distance.

Of course, she’d been down here before. This was the unfinished storm drain that ran to a small closet beneath the walkway. As she moved forward, following the sound of Lizzy’s footsteps, she heard water splashing beneath her shoes. Runoff from the shower, perhaps? Soon, she became aware of the others moving behind her. She heard muttered curses, grunting, sliding against concrete. Dusty gave a little whimper, and Nathan comforted her with soft words.

“You’re okay, girl. Just stay close to us.”

And what if they’ve found the storm drain? Melanie wondered, as she kept moving forward. If they’ve thoroughly searched the area around the factory floor looking for supplies, they may have come across the interior entrance to the drainpipe. One of them might be standing guard there, ready to shoot us the moment we pop out.

But there was no sense turning back now. Melanie estimated that they were now passing beneath the exterior wall of the factory compound, and the quality of the air changed. The slight hum grew deeper, the air cooler. Still, she pressed on. No one spoke. Even their breathing seemed dampened.

And then she heard a soft metallic clang in front of her, and Lizzy grunted.

“Found the other end,” she said in a whisper. “I covered it with a panel from the old icing machine. If we push through here, we’ll be inside a closet in the factory floor.”

“Listen carefully before pushing through,” Melanie replied, reaching out past Lizzy to touch the cold, flimsy metal of the panel. “Do you hear anyone or anything on the other side?”

Her friend was quiet for a moment, then she said, “Put my ear to the panel. I didn’t hear anything. It’s awfully quiet in there.”

“Okay, go ahead and push the panel out of our way,” Melanie said, drawing the Beretta out of her pocket. “If you see one of the bad guys on the other side, duck fast and let me take a shot at him.”

The panel gave a soft hiss as Lizzy pushed it over. Faint light from somewhere else illuminated the room before them. Melanie could see how the unfinished drain opened up suddenly at the back of the small closet, revealing a small set of shelves, assorted cardboard boxes, and a couple of old employee aprons from days when the factory was operational.

There were no guards inside the closet. Melanie eased past her friend and stepped into the small closet, the Beretta pointed in front of her. Other than a few empty shelves and a pile of debris from Lizzy clearing out the drainpipe, there wasn’t much in the room. Melanie approached the closet door and slowly eased it open. The closet opened into an area beneath the elevated walkway around the edge of the factory floor. Though she moved as slowly as possible, the hinges gave a groan of tired metal.

As she poked her head through the opening, the Beretta aimed into the vastness beyond the door, she saw the factory floor. It was very dark, but the backwash of some light outlined the edges of the shower curtain. Behind her, the others slowly stepped out of the drainpipe into the closet. Melanie looked back and gave them a thumbs-up—all clear! Then she stepped through the door into the factory floor. She stepped as lightly as she could, trying not to make any sound, but the wetness of her shoes produced a slight squishing sound anyway.

As she approached the end of the overhead walkway, she noticed that the light on the shower curtain seemed to shift and change. Suddenly, a bright beam, as from a flashlight, moved out from behind one of the production lines and swept along the room to her left, coming within inches of revealing her location. Melanie ducked behind a support post for the walkway and made a frantic signal over her shoulder, hoping that the others would understand it.

A man appeared then, stocky and broad-shouldered, with a black cap pulled low over his head and a matching tactical vest. It was the other man who had accompanied Cooper and Brian. Melanie didn’t know his name. In one hand he held a large metal flashlight, in the other he had what appeared to be an AR-15. The strap was slung over his shoulder, the grip in his hand, so he could fire it one-armed.

He appeared to be circling the perimeter of the factory floor, which would bring him right next to Melanie and the others. Had he heard the creaking of the closet door? He must have. His own footsteps weren’t very loud. Indeed, he was sweeping the flashlight from side to side, as if looking for the source of the sound. Melanie started to raise the Beretta but caught herself. If she fired in here now, she would give away their position, and they would never make it to the supply closet!

She glanced back over her shoulder and saw Lizzy and Rita in the open doorway. They had both frozen in place, Lizzy with a hand pressed to her mouth. Behind them, others shifted in the dark closet. Melanie would have pressed a finger to her lips, but the motion of her free hand was limited by the small box tucked in the crook of her elbow, so she made another vague signal at Lizzy and Rita.

Not a peep!

When she turned back around, she saw the guard turn the corner at the end of the nearest production line, heading toward them. Currently, the flashlight was exploring the nooks and crannies around the shower contraption. Melanie held her breath.

I’m going to have to shoot him, she thought. Even if it draws the others, even if it prevents us from getting into the supply closet, I have to do it. If he spots us first, we’re dead.

Slowly, achingly, she raised the Beretta, as the guard strode toward the support post where she was hidden. The flashlight beam descended from the shower and cut back to the right, sweeping toward her, toward the closet and the others. And then, suddenly, the beam jerked around and aimed directly at her, shining in her eyes.

In that moment, Melanie heard noise coming from in front and behind her. The guard gasped, fumbling with the rifle as he pointed it at her. But she also heard footsteps behind her, the whick-whick of clothing.

The guard had just taken a deep breath, as if to shout an alarm, when Rita rushed in from his left, bringing her right arm down in an acrobatic swoop. She drove the heavy end of a wrench against the top of the guard’s head, and his cry turned into an agonized moan instead. His whole body shuddered, and the strength went out of his limbs. As he dropped, Rita put her free arm around him and eased his fall. Even so, the flashlight and rifle clattered onto the hard floor.

Melanie rushed out from behind the support post, stooping to retrieve both the rifle and flashlight. As she did, she nodded at Rita, but the other woman had no expression—utterly blank—as she dragged the limp guard under the walkway, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

She didn’t hesitate for a second, Melanie thought. Rita rushed to our aid, and probably just saved our lives.

She would have hugged the woman, if she could have. The rush of relief gave her a renewed burst of energy, but she had to juggle all of her gear now. The flashlight was tucked into her pants pocket, the Beretta went back into her pocket, and the rifle was slung over her shoulder. She tried to emulate the guard so she could hold both the box of explosives and the rifle at the same time, but it was awkward.

Rita came up beside her then and whispered, “Well, I think I killed him. He’s not breathing.” She tapped the wrench against the palm of her hand a few times. “I don’t know my own strength, I suppose.”

“Good job,” Melanie whispered back.

The others were clustered around the closet door. The attack had happened so fast, no one but Rita had responded. Melanie beckoned them with a nod and headed out from under the walkway toward the ramp. At the top of the ramp, she dashed toward the double doors and paused to listen for a moment. The hallway beyond the doors was quiet. Still, she pushed one of the doors open as slowly as she could, making almost no noise. Slowly, the supply closet door was revealed to her. It was cracked open, as if someone had been in there recently. Beyond, she saw the dark stairs leading up to Derrick’s office. Light seemed to be coming from somewhere around the corner and down the hall. The break room, perhaps?

Melanie held her breath, counted to three, then pushed through the door, covering the gap to the supply closet in two long strides. She used her shoulder to nudge the supply closet door open, then she moved into the darkness beyond. Fortunately, she knew the place well enough that she could navigate without sight, and she made her way to the back of the closet. As she did, she heard the gentle, desperate noises of the others moving into the closet behind her. Then the door slipped shut with a click.

“That’s everyone,” Mr. Turner said from behind her. “We all made it.”

“Good,” Melanie replied. “Keep it to a whisper as long as we’re in the closet.”

She set the box of Molotov cocktails down and pulled the flashlight out. She clicked it on and aimed it into the corner, where the massive bulk of the gun cabinet sat. She double-checked to make sure everyone was present. Shona and Nathan were at the door, both squatting down to comfort a panting Dusty. Melanie was extra thankful that Dusty wasn’t a dog prone to barking. Mr. Turner had a supporting arm around Mark, who was grimacing. Rita and Lizzy stood together, the newcomer wiping blood off her hand with a handkerchief.

“Okay,” Melanie said. “It’s time to load up on guns. We’re going to avenge Josh and get our factory back.”

32

They crowded around the gun cabinet like starving children at a bakery window. It was hard to know what they would need in the coming assault, so Melanie told them to grab anything that seemed good, as long as they could carry it. She already had an AR-15, Beretta, and Molotov cocktails, so she backed away, fixed the flashlight on the gun cabinet, and let the others pick through the vast collection of weapons.

Dusty seemed to be getting tense, working herself up to bark, so Shona and Nathan took turns holding her while the other made their selection.

“Mom, what’s our plan of attack,” Shona asked quietly, as she held the anxious dog.

“I’m still thinking about it,” Melanie said. “Give me a minute to work out the details in my mind.”

Lizzy grabbed the riot gun and loaded it with tear gas rounds, then put a pistol in either pocket. As she did that, Mr. Turner selected one of the sniper rifles with a long scope and stuck some extra bullets in his shirt pocket.

“I think we might split up into two- and three-person teams,” Melanie said. “We’ll have to work our way through the factory to figure out where Cooper and Brian are located. There might be more than just the two of them, so we can’t be sure how many men we’re dealing with.”

“Splitting up seems dangerous, Mom. Don’t you think?” Shona asked.

“Less dangerous than moving in one big group,” Melanie said. “Plus, we can duck into some of the back rooms and closets, the out of the way places that Cooper might not know about.”

Rita seemed to be having trouble narrowing down her selection of guns. She kept picking them up, getting a feel for them, then setting them down again. Finally, she selected a shotgun, which went over her shoulder, and a .357 Magnum, which she tucked under her belt beside the enormous monkey wrench.

“So, you basically want us to comb through all of the rooms until we find the bad guys?” Shona asked. Dusty was making a weird groaning sound, as if desperately trying not to growl or bark. Shona petted her, but it didn’t seem to do much good. “And then we’re just supposed to hope that we kill them before they kill us?”

“I mean…that’s basically the plan, yes,” Melanie said. “And if they hide or barricade themselves in a room, we’ll use the Molotov cocktails to flush them out. It’s a big risk, but we can use the fire extinguishers to keep the flames from spreading to the supplies.”

Nathan rummaged through shelves, as if looking for something in particular. Finally, he selected a bolt-action rifle, grabbed a box of bullets, and returned to Shona’s side.

When she glanced at him, he said, “Tikka T3x. This gun was supposed to belong to me. My dad said every boy needed to learn how to shoot. Well, I guess maybe he was right about that, after all.”

Shona scarcely seemed to hear him, as she rounded on her mother again. Melanie could see that her daughter was trying to contain her emotions.

“Mom, I’m just going to say what I think, so don’t get mad. I think your plan stinks. Splitting everyone up and having them run from room to room trying to shoot bad guys is like putting us all into a real-life video game. It’s too dangerous.”

Melanie sighed. “Do you have a better plan? Because we’re inside the factory now, and we have to see this done.”

“Actually, yes,” Shona replied. “I think I do have a better plan.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Still furiously petting Dusty, she went on. “Well, there’s a tear gas gun in the cabinet, isn’t there? If we can find face masks—you know, the surgical kind—and plastic sheeting and duct tape, then we can protect ourselves from the tear gas while we blast the bad guys with it.”

“They could be upstairs or downstairs,” Melanie replied.

“So…” Shona tapped a finger against her forehead. “We break into two groups. One goes upstairs, the other downstairs. That’s still safer than going from room to room in pairs, right?”

Nathan rose and began rooting around on a shelf at the edge of the flashlight beam.

“We’ll gas them, but we’ll be protected by our masks, and that’s how we gain the upper hand,” Shona continued. “Then they’ll be forced out into the open, and we can…you know.”

“Sounds like it might work,” Melanie replied. Indeed, it was a more well-formulated plan than she had come up with herself. She was proud of Shona for thinking of it, and she gave her daughter a big smile.

“Here.” Nathan said, turning to them. He had a small cardboard box in his hand. “These are N95 masks. I knew we had some around here. These should help protect us from the gas. And there are piles of plastic sheeting and tons of duct tape in here. Shona’s plan will work.”

Everyone was armed and ready now. They stood in the aisles facing Melanie: Mr. Turner and Lizzy together, Rita and Mark behind them, Shona and Dusty to one side, and Nathan beside the shelves. They looked like a ragtag army with their rifles, pistols, and Lizzy’s bulky riot gun. The picture was made all the more complete by the grass, dust, and dirt stains on their clothes, their unkempt hair, sweatpants and slippers.

“Good find, Nathan,” Melanie said. “Let’s put the masks together as fast as we can. We’re splitting into two groups. I’ll lead one. Lizzy, I want you to lead the other. Are you comfortable with that?”

Lizzy gave Melanie an open-mouthed look of surprise, then glanced at Mark and Mr. Turner, as if expecting either of them to volunteer in her place.

“Are you sure about that?” Lizzy said, after a moment. “Don’t make any rash decisions on my account.”

“Absolutely, I’m sure,” Melanie replied. “Will you do it?”

Lizzy bit her lower lip, then shrugged and said, “Okay, sure, if you think it’s a good idea. I’m in too deep now to refuse anyway, so I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Melanie rose and reached for the small box with the Molotov cocktails. She grabbed two and thrust them at Mr. Turner, who received them. “You’re with your daughter, okay? Shona and Nathan, you’re with Lizzy as well. Keep a close eye on Dusty. She may panic when the fighting starts. Mark, Rita, you two are with me.”

Mark nodded and stepped forward. Rita followed.

“Now, let’s work out the specifics of our attack plan,” Melanie said. “It’s all going to happen really fast, so pay attention.”

33

Melanie turned the flashlight off and gave both teams a few minutes to readjust to the darkness, then she crept back through the closet toward the door. She had the AR-15 strap over her shoulder, the gun nestled in her right arm. With her free hand, she reached out and brushed the cold metal of the heavy doorknob, and in that moment, she had a strange flashback to the first time she’d been in this closet. She remembered the sense of panic, the sudden surge of old bad feelings, when she’d accidentally locked herself in with Lizzy.

She felt similar old bad feelings now, but this was something else. Not a desperate yearning to escape, but the terrible certainty of blood and death in her immediate future. Slowly, she turned the knob, easing the door open so that it made as little noise as possible. Once it was cracked open, she glanced outside and saw light in the hallway shining on the edges of the stairs. That light seemed to be coming from around the corner and down the hall, which is why she’d appointed her team to the downstairs rooms. She wanted to be the first to confront danger, if at all possible, and she certainly didn’t want her daughter in the middle of the worst fighting, if possible.

“Lizzy, take your team upstairs,” she whispered over her shoulder. “As soon as you’re headed up, my team will rush down the hall toward the break room.” With her free hand, she reached down and brushed the bulge of the tear gas canister in her pants pocket. It barely fit. “I’ll set off the tear gas canister at the end of the hall and rush back this way. Got it?”

“Got it,” Lizzy replied.

“Good. Now, everyone make sure your face masks are securely in place.” Melanie reached up and touched her own mask. She heard the soft crinkle of plastic sheeting as others did the same.

Nathan and Shona had come up with the design: clear plastic sheeting cut to the fit the face, with a hole around the mouth and an N95 mask duct-taped in front of the hole. It would keep out most of the tear gas, though Melanie expected a little seepage.

Her mask was firmly in place, so she pulled the door open the rest of the way and made a spinning gesture over her head. Lizzy whispered some quiet order to her team, and they filed past: first Lizzy, then Mr. Turner, then Shona and Nathan with Dusty. Lizzy had the riot gun over her shoulder, a pistol in her hand, as she ran toward the stairs. Though she was moving lightly, the first stair creaked as soon as she put her weight on it. To her credit, she didn’t let this slow her down as she ran upstairs, her team members right on her heels.

Once they were about halfway up, Melanie signaled to Rita and Mark and passed through the closet door, headed toward the hallway. Mark’s breathing was somewhat ragged. Clearly, he still wasn’t in perfect health, so she checked her speed just a little as she reached the corner. She heard the creaking of the stairs as Lizzy’s team approached the top, but she didn’t look back.

As she rounded the corner, she put both hands on the rifle and brought it up, but the hallway before her was empty. She saw familiar office doors lining the hall, all shut, the open break room door at the far end. A single battery-powered lamp shone brightly from a shelf in a corner of that far room, but she heard no sound coming from that direction.

Turning, she gestured at Rita, pointing two fingers at her own eyes and then at the nearest office door: Keep an eye on the doors in case they come out. Rita seemed to get the message and nodded. It was all so quiet. Too quiet. Melanie rushed past the office door, her whole body tingling with terrible possibility. What if Brian and Cooper were hiding in one of these rooms, waiting for them to pass by so they could jump out from behind? What if they were crouching in the break room, waiting to open fire the second Melanie stepped into the light?

Her trembling hand made her finger continually brush the edge of the trigger.

So, this is what an itchy trigger finger feels like, she thought.

She moved past the library door, past Stanley Lipton’s old office, and then the break room was right in front of her. She came to a stop just before entering, and Mark bumped against her shoulder. As he did, he uttered a little groan that was just a bit too loud, and Melanie froze, holding her breath. A few seconds passed, but nothing seemed to stir in the break room.

Finally, she whipped to one side and leaned into the break room, aiming the AR-15 in the direction of the tables. Shadows were dancing up the far wall, and she almost fired. Her finger laid against the trigger, but she caught herself at the last fraction of the second. The shadows were being caused by the lamplight hitting the legs of the table. Indeed, the room looked empty. Still, she stepped inside and moved away from the open door. Mark and Rita followed right on her heels.

She could see through the door into the reception area, and that room appeared empty, as well. The patchwork repairs to the shrapnel holes were still obvious. Brian and Cooper hadn’t barred the front door with anything. Melanie glanced at Mark and Rita and shrugged.

Where are they? she wondered. They must be in this building somewhere.

She grabbed a Molotov cocktail out of Mark’s hand and held it up. The lighter was in her pants pocket. She was sorely tempted to light it and flush them out with fire, but that, of course, was foolishness. She’d only intended to do so if she couldn’t uproot the bad guys by some other means. No, it put all of their supplies at risk, and Brian and Cooper were nowhere to be seen.

Finally, she traded the bottle to her right hand, letting the rifle hang from its strap, and pulled the tear gas canister out instead. Shona’s idea was much more reasonable. Flush them out with gas, not flames. She held up the canister, eyeing the pull tab that would activate it.

And then, before she could do it, she heard a sudden burst of gunfire from the other end of the building. This was followed by shouting, many voices all at once, and the distinct sound of footsteps on the stairs. More gunshots, a single shrill cry. Melanie traded a horrified look with Mark and, in her haste, shoved the Molotov cocktail into her pants pocket and rushed back to the open door. She grabbed the rifle with her right hand and raised it, still clutching the tear gas canister in her left.

As she stepped back into the hall, she heard the double doors into the factory floor bang against the walls. Had Lizzy fled from the bad guys, or had the bad guys fled before Lizzy and her team? As if to answer this question, she heard the sudden frantic barking of Dusty. The dog had finally reached the end of her rope, and she began to bark like she’d never barked before. The sound echoed, giving away her location. She was in the factory floor.

“Lizzy and her team fled back downstairs,” Melanie said over her shoulder. “They must be under attack!”

Mark still had the other Molotov cocktail in one hand, a pistol in the other. He raised both as he followed Melanie through the door. Rita moved past him, coming up on Melanie’s left side and raising her own rifle.

“Catch them quick,” she whispered. “We can flank the bad guys from behind and catch them off guard while they pursue your friends.”

Melanie nodded and ran down the hallway. When the factory doors closed again, the sounds of shouting and barking become more muffled. Melanie heard more gunshots, and they seemed to come from somewhere among the old partially dismantled production lines. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell how many people had followed Lizzy. Was it just Cooper and Brian? Were there others? She had no idea.

When she reached the far corner of the hallway, she barely slowed at all. Leading with the AR-15, she ran around the corner, aiming the rifle toward the stairs. She saw what appeared to be big drops of blood on some of the steps, creating a connect-the-dots trail that led down to the hall floor and then past the supply closets.

Someone’s been shot, she realized, her wildly thrashing heart skipping a beat.

Now, she could scarcely think straight, so she headed past the supply closet door and rushed toward the factory floor. The double doors were still swinging slightly, having not yet fully settled. Melanie slammed into one of them with her shoulder, and shoved it out of her way. Then she stepped through the opening, aiming her rifle down the long ramp toward the production lines.

Lights were moving back and forth throughout the room, creating a strange dizzying display, but she saw people moving this way and that down among the production lines. At first, she couldn’t make sense of it. Then one of the men stopped, dropped onto his right knee, and fired a shot toward the back of the room. It was neither Brian nor Cooper, but he wore a camouflage tactical vest and had a black ballcap turned backward on his head.

They have other men in the factory, she realized.

She dropped to her knee at the top of the ramp, using the handrail for cover, and aimed at the man. There were at least four enemies down there, all dressed similarly. Some were shouting, but she heard other voices coming from the far side of the factory floor. And she was pretty sure one of them was Lizzy.

It took a few seconds to steady her rifle and aim. She pulled the trigger, and the bullet hit the man in the back of the head. He dropped like a rock, falling flat against the concrete floor without uttering another sound. Blood splattered on the floor around his head, and his gun and a flashlight tumbled in front of him.

Someone grabbed her shoulder then, and she looked up into the face of Rita.

“Take cover,” Rita said sharply. “What are you doing?”

“I did!”

“A handrail is not cover.” Rita gestured toward a large electrical box on the walkway a few feet to the right. “Behind there. Go.”

Down on the factory floor, the lights were moving again. Melanie realized that two of the men had turned and were repositioning themselves. She had a second to lock eyes with one of the men as he raised his rifle. Then she lunged toward the electrical box, flinging herself behind it. As she did, she sensed Mark following her. Rita lingered a moment, taking a few shots down at the men below. But they returned fire. A bullet hit a corner of the handrail and sent up sparks as Rita dropped onto her hands and knees.

All of them wound up behind the electrical box. Mark was on his stomach, panting hard, the Molotov cocktail still held in his hand. Melanie was on her knees, out of breath, heart pounding so hard she felt dizzy. Rita came last, crawling behind them.

“Did you hit him?” Melanie asked.

“I don’t think so,” Rita replied. “We’ve got at least three down there, but, hey, no masks. Perfect time for a bit of tear gas, don’t you think?”

No masks. Melanie set her rifle down and held up the tear gas canister. She hooked her finger around the tab and pulled. It took some strength to work it loose, but it finally popped out with hiss and a gush of white smoke. Melanie turned and threw it over the electrical box. It sailed beyond the walkway, out of sight, and fell down toward the factory floor. A couple of seconds later, she heard it hit the concrete floor, bounce once, then tumble.

“Gas,” one of the men below shouted.

“Throw it back,” another replied. “Hurry.”

And, indeed, a moment later, Melanie heard something sailing through the air. It flew over their heads, hit the wall, and bounced down. Only then did she realize it wasn’t the tear gas canister. No, it was some small, dark object, roughly oval-shaped.

“Grenade,” she cried.

It had landed within inches of her right leg, and she thrashed, kicking it with her heel. It rolled toward the handrail, but didn’t have the momentum to reach the edge. She kicked it again, and this time it dropped over the end of the walkway. It was still in midair, heading down to the factory floor, when it exploded. The sound was loud, painful, and Melanie cried out. She heard shrapnel hitting the underside of the walkway, the back of the electrical box. She saw it impact the wall above her. All she could do was throw her body down and try to shield Mark with her arm.

If I’d been a fraction of a second slower, we’d all be dead, she realized.

That filled her mind with a red, hateful fury. She looked at Mark and Rita quickly to make sure neither of them was hurt. They appeared uninjured, except perhaps for some temporary hearing loss. The edges of the walkway had been warped by the explosion. Clenching her jaw in anger, Melanie grabbed the Molotov cocktail out of her pocket and dug the lighter out.

“I’ll kill every single last one of them,” she said in a furious hiss. “I don’t care what it takes.”

As she flicked the lighter and touched the flame to the rag, Rita reached out and briefly laid a hand on her forearm.

“Are you sure you want to throw that thing?” Rita asked. “Flames are unpredictable. You never know how fast they’ll spread.”

“I’m sure,” Melanie replied.

The rag was burning brightly now, and she heaved it over the edge of the walkway. She dared to peek around the side of the electrical box to watch its trajectory. Already, the area around the production lines was disappearing in a low, heavy fog of tear gas. She thought she saw two men moving in the gas, grimacing but trying to make their way to the ramp.

However, the Molotov cocktail hit the floor a few feet away from the nearest man, shattering on impact. The gasoline fumes instantly combusted, sending a vast sheet of dark red flames gushing into the cloud of tear gas. The fire engulfed the man, even as he tried to sidestep away from it. The flames seemed to wrap around him, rising up like a red-hot cloak, as he began to shriek and flail his arms. He dropped his rifle and flashlight in the process, and the flashlight went out. It didn’t matter. There was a new light now, an angry light, and it was quickly consuming him as he rushed toward the ramp, howling.

The other man, seeing the fire that was quickly spreading into the production lines, turned to one side and raced in the direction of the shower. He went about ten feet before coming to a sudden stop and throwing his rifle onto the ground. He covered his eyes with his hands and dropped to his knees.

“I surrender! I surrender,” he cried. “Don’t kill me! Oh, God, don’t kill me! I give up!”

The burning man was on the ramp now, rolling back and forth to put out the flames. He slowly succeeded, though much of his clothing had already burned.

“Help me,” he cried. “I surrender too!”

And then the third man appeared, stepping around the flames to approach the walkway, both of his hands raised high over his head. He seemed to be bleeding in multiple places.

“I give up too,” he said. “Please! I won’t fight for Cooper no more. Just don’t kill us. I’m already wounded bad anyway. I’m all full of shrapnel. Please, it’s not worth it! We give up!”

Indeed, she saw a large amount of blood soaking into the right leg of his pants above his knee.

“Are there any others down there with you?” Melanie called.

“No, it’s just us,” the bleeding man cried. “I swear to God. It’s just the three of us left. We surrender!”

The man on the ramp had finally put out the flames, and he was lying curled up on his side. The other two men moved up on either side, probably trying to get out of the tear gas. They dropped to their knees, hands still raised.

“We give up,” one of them said again.

Melanie traded a look with Rita.

“By God, I think we just took the factory back,” Rita said.

34

The captives were in awful shape. That became clear as soon as Melanie shone a light on them. One had been burned badly. His pants were half gone, charred along the edges, and his shirt was mostly gone. The exposed skin was red, peeling away in places. The other two captives had apparently tried to take cover when the grenade went off, but both had shrapnel wounds. One was bleeding from his right thigh, feet, and hip. The other had a big gash on his right forearm, where shrapnel had torn through his long sleeve and apparently sunk deep into the flesh beneath.

Even though the men had thrown down their weapons, Melanie was initially hesitant to approach them. Two of the men were wearing tactical vests and gloves. It seemed likely that they were hiding additional weapons. However, as she approached from the front, Rita rushed forward, breathing heavily, and circled around behind them.

Two of the men knelt on the ramp, the burned man lay on his stomach. Melanie recognized the one with the bleeding arm as the stranger who had been with Cooper and Brian, but the others were unknown to her—bearded, rough-looking men with wild eyes.

Melanie raised her rifle and pointed it at the nearest man, as Rita came up behind him and rooted through his pockets.

“We surrendered,” the man said. “Can’t you see we’re hurt? There’s no need for this.”

Rita pulled a small folding knife out of the man’s pocket and tossed it aside. “No need, huh? Were you waiting to get close, so you could plunge this into my neck? Is that it?”

“It’s just a pocketknife,” the man replied. Because of his injured leg, he was leaning against the handrail and trying to hold his leg to one side. “Look at us. We’re bleeding out, and our eyes are melting from the tear gas. The fight is over, okay?”

Rita pushed him down until he was lying on his belly beside the burned man. Then she went to the third captive and proceeded to search him as well.

“We should treat their wounds,” Mark said, coming up beside Melanie. “They surrendered. It’s the decent thing to do.”

Melanie was tempted to deny him, but she knew he was right. However, before she could answer, she heard people approaching from far down the production lines. She raised the flashlight just as another flashlight rose toward her, and the lights met in the middle. It was Lizzy and her team. Mr. Turner walked beside her, and he seemed to be pushing a captive before him. Though this new captive seemed to come willingly, Mr. Turner had pulled his arms behind his back and appeared to be muttering angrily in his ear. Shona, Nathan, and a reluctant Dusty brought up the rear, though the poor, spooked dog made sure to stay behind them, gazing through the gaps between their legs.

The captive had lost his black hat, but Melanie knew his face. Tears were streaming down his cheeks from the tear gas. He’d lost his tactical vest and his weapons, and the hardness had left his face.

“Brian.” She spoke his name as he approached the ramp. “There you are.”

He bowed his head and averted his gaze, even as Mr. Turner drove him inexorably toward her. Rita had finished searching the other man, and she pushed him down onto his belly as well. Then she rose, hands on her hips, and beamed at Melanie, as if to say, “Look at what I’ve done!”

Down below, the fire from the Molotov cocktail had mostly burned itself out. A few flames still flickered on the concrete between production lines, but it seemed the enemy had taken the brunt of the combustion.

“Lady, this tear gas is melting my eyes,” one of the men on the ramp said. “I told you that already! Please, can we get out of this room?”

The burning man was just moaning softly, half-conscious. With every passing minute, the burns looked worse. Melanie wondered if he would even survive. However, she couldn’t think about that now. She couldn’t think about anything but the traitor. She strode down the ramp, stepping between the captives, to approach Brian. She was tempted to rip the plastic mask off her face, if only to yell at him more effectively, but she could see the translucent wisps of gas in the air.

Mr. Turner pulled Brian to a stop and held him in place, but the captive wouldn’t look at Melanie. Finally, she grabbed his chin and forced him to raise his head. Even then, he wouldn’t look her in the eyes. Lizzy, Rita, and Mark circled around behind her.

“I have to hand it to you,” Brian said finally. His throat was rough and raw, probably a result of the tear gas. “Somehow, you got inside the factory without anyone seeing you. I don’t know how you did it. We kept an eye on the gate and the walls, and you just materialized inside the building like ghosts.”

“That’s right,” Melanie said. “That’s what we did. Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you in revenge for murdering poor Josh. All he ever did was try to help, and you people killed him.”

“I think you avenged Josh just fine tonight,” Brian replied, then coughed furiously. “But if you want to kill me, I can’t stop you. Just remember, I could have kept fighting. Maybe I would have killed another one of your people before you took me out, but I didn’t. I gave up to stop the bloodshed.”

“Very noble of you, Brian,” Melanie responded bitterly.” She flicked a hand at Mr. Turner. “Take him up the ramp, out of the worst of the gas. I need him to talk.” Then she gestured at Rita and Lizzy. “Let’s get all the captives up on the walkway near the doors. Was there anyone else in here?”

“Nope, all of the enemies in the factory floor are accounted for,” Lizzy said. “If there are any others, they’re hiding somewhere or else they’re outside. That includes Cooper.”

The others began dragging the captives up the ramp, moving them as far from the tear gas cloud as possible, though it was really inescapable in the stagnant room. Once they were all gathered together, the injured men lying on the floor, Brian kneeling before them, Melanie ascended the ramp. Finally, as she stepped in front of Brian, she reached up and ripped the plastic mask off her face. It was driving her crazy, and it muffled her voice. She tasted the acidic tang of the tear gas, felt it tingling in her eyes, but it was bearable for now.

“So, were you always working for Cooper?” she asked Brian. “Were you working for him before you came here?”

“Were you working for him before you weaseled your way into my group of survivors?” Rita added, sharply. She was standing to his left, her hand clamped onto his shoulder.

Brian’s eyes were a furious red, and he was sweating, his damp hair plastered to his skull. He coughed again, deep hacking coughs, then looked up at Melanie. “To be completely honest with you, I’m Cooper’s partner. He was the brawn of the group, and I was the brains. It’s the reason why I was the only one they could trust to infiltrate the factory.” He glanced at Rita. “Stumbling across your little group out on the highway was just dumb luck.”

“And you were the one stealing stuff, trying to turn me against Rita?” Melanie asked. “The gloves, the keys, the multi-tool—that was you.”

“You’re a perceptive woman. I could tell that from the moment we met,” Brian said. “I just had to turn your eyes to someone else. Sorry, Rita, you were the only real option.”

Rita gave him a grunt of disgust. “After all I did for you, you got me handcuffed to a pipe, and you almost got me killed. Nice work, you scumbag. I’d like to stomp your throat for that.”

“Well, Brian, I’ll give you credit for finally being completely honest,” Melanie said. “Now, I’ll be honest with you and admit you did a good job of fooling me. You had me convinced you were a decent guy. Somehow, you got me to doubt Rita instead of you. I no longer trust my own judgment, so good job.”

Brian sighed, but that led to more coughing, sharp and unhealthy. “If it’s any consolation, you made it a hell of a lot harder to betray you than I expected. You might not believe me when I say this, but I kind of liked you guys. Especially you, Melanie. You’re a good leader, a smart and determined leader. I didn’t fake how I felt about you—I admired you—but I still had a job to do.”

Melanie sighed. Oh, how she hated this part. “Yeah, well, I admit, I kind of liked you too, Brian. You would have made a good member of our little team. Instead, you killed someone we cared about.”

Brian grimaced at this. “Sorry about Josh, but what could I do? He pointed a gun at us, we pointed guns at him, and that’s just how it went down. When the bullets are flying, no one is safe. It wasn’t personal.”

“I understand. I really do.”

And with that, Melanie raised the Beretta, pressed it to the center of his forehead, and pulled the trigger. She did it swiftly. Even so, he saw it coming. Realization entered his gaze, his eyes widening just a tiny bit, but he didn’t resist, he didn’t fight back. He made no sound at all, except for a long, coarse expulsion of breath after the bullet passed through his skull and exited out the back. Rita released her hold then, and he fell to one side, hitting the metal walkway with a dull thud. Already, the light was going out of his eyes.

The other captives lay on their bellies, but they wriggled and readjusted to look up at Melanie, as if expecting the next bullet.

“A man who can deceive people that easily can’t be kept alive,” Melanie said. “Even now, as a captive, he was trying to weasel his way back into my good graces. I kind of liked you guys. Yeah, whatever. He wanted us dead, all of us.” She glanced at Mark, at Mr. Turner, and at a grimacing Shona, but she was really talking to herself. “It had to be done. I wish it were otherwise.”

“He deserved that bullet,” Rita replied. “That dude was way too good of a liar. He had me fooled from the moment I met him, and then he made me take the fall for his theft. Absolute garbage human. Don’t spend one second feeling bad about pulling that trigger, boss.”

Somehow, Rita’s words didn’t comfort Melanie, even though she knew she’d made the right decision. She looked down at the nearest captive. He was bleeding badly from his injured arm, blood running through gaps in the walkway.

“Where’s Cooper?” she asked.

“He left the factory early this morning,” the man replied. “I promise. He’s not here. He went to rendezvous with the rest of our people.”

Melanie met the man’s gaze hard for a few seconds. “Okay, I believe you.” Then to Lizzy, she said, “Strip the men. Rita and your father will help. Take everything they’ve got except shirt, pants, and shoes. Treat their wounds well enough that they won’t die, then send them outside of the gate.” She squatted down beside the captives. “It’s more than you men deserve. If I ever see you again within the vicinity of this place, you die. Got it?”

Two of them nodded. The burned man was no longer conscious. Melanie rose, her eyes now stinging badly, and beckoned Mark, Shona, and Nathan to follow her. “We’ll check the rest of the building to be sure it’s empty. Come on.”

And with that, she stepped over the captives and headed for the double doors, feeling only a cold certainty that she’d done what was necessary for her family.

35

The nighttime attack had made her skittish about sleeping in an interior room, so she had relocated herself and Mark to the reception area. Still, when she woke up and saw sunlight shining through the cracks around the front door, she had a moment of disorientation. Melanie rolled onto her side and heard the cot creak beneath her. Mark’s own bed was beside hers, set against the wall, and he was still snoring softly, almost entirely hidden under a sheet.

She pushed herself upright, her mind swimming from sleep. Even now, weeks later, she felt the residue of the big battle. It lingered not only in her mind but also in the little aches and pains throughout her body. In quiet moments, she thought she could still smell the tear gas. Maybe it hadn’t been fully cleared out of the factory, or maybe the memory of it was just too strong. That wasn’t the worst of it, of course. The worst was the memory of Josh, of his life being snuffed out in a mere second.

Melanie tapped her forehead with her palm, as if she might drive these memories from her mind. Then she rose from the cot and walked to the reception desk where she’d stored some of their belongings. She was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, but she added her jacket and pulled on a pair of slippers. She could tell her hair was a big mess, and she spent a fruitless moment trying to comb it into some semblance of order with her fingers.

She left Mark sleeping and headed through the break room. Lizzy and her father had been sleeping in here. Their cots were placed against the wall, but they were already gone. Melanie continued down the hall, and she began to hear voices. When she turned the corner at the end of the hall, she saw that the double doors into the factory floor were wide open. Lizzy, Mr. Turner, and Rita were standing on the walkway, looking down toward the production lines.

As soon as she stepped through the doors, they heard her approach and turned to her. In the process, they parted, and she saw the damaged handrail and walkway. Grenade shrapnel had done quite a bit of damage to a section of the walkway, one of the production lines, and the walls and floor.

“It’s a little early for our morning meeting,” Melanie said, “but since you’re all up, why don’t we go ahead and convene? I’m not exactly hungry, but a little breakfast wouldn’t hurt.”

She heard Dusty’s nails clacking on the concrete floor, and soon the dog appeared, racing between the production lines with Shona and Nathan on her heels. They kept coming, heading up the ramp, as Melanie beckoned them.

“We were just saying it’s about time to deal with these ugly grenade scars,” Lizzy said. “It’s depressing walking down here to take a shower, because you’re always reminded about that night.”

“I know. I feel the same way,” Melanie said, holding up her hands. “But let’s do this right. We’ll prepare some breakfast and sit down together. I need to take a quick shower. Give it about ten minutes, and I’ll meet you in the break room.”

And with that, she pushed past them and headed down the ramp. The scars and stains on the factory floor were disconcerting. This place had definitely seen better days, but she tried to ignore the damage as she headed for the shower. Thankfully, the makeshift shower hadn’t been damaged, and the tank even had some fresh water in it. Though it wasn’t heated, she didn’t mind. Melanie took a quick shower that morning, and by the end, she was shivering and as awake as humanly possible.

By the time she’d dried off and made her way back to the break room, everyone was gathered around the table. Mr. Turner had made a pot of coffee on the portable stove, and they’d broken out a few packets of crackers and cheese. It was as good a breakfast as any.

Melanie took her usual seat at the head of the table, with Mark on her right and Lizzy on her left. Rita sat at the far end of the table, slurping hot coffee loudly, with Shona and Nathan in the middle. Josh’s usual seat was empty, of course, still angled away from the table as if he’d just gotten up recently and walked away.

“I don’t have to tell you guys that we’ve got a lot of work to do,” Melanie said, as she stirred a bit of sugar into her steaming cup of coffee. “As you pointed out, Lizzy, it’s about time we did the hard work of repairing the walkway. Rita, I’d like to put you in charge of that task. Be careful working under there. I’m worried about structural compromise.”

“You got it, boss,” Rita replied, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “I could use some help. It’s more than a one-woman job.”

“Yes, of course,” Melanie said. “Lizzy and Mr. Turner were already discussing the repairs with you, so it seems like your team is formed. Use whatever tools and supplies you need. I trust your judgment.”

This was their daily routine: a group meeting during breakfast to plan the day’s work. It was a time for Melanie to identify the most important tasks and make assignments, but it was also an opportunity for the others to air concerns and provide feedback. She still wasn’t sure how she’d wound up in charge, but she’d become mostly comfortable with it. She didn’t revel in having control, but somehow it felt right to provide guidance to the others. At the very least, it ensured that they all stayed connected, even if everyone was off doing their own thing for the rest of the day.

“Shona and Nathan, I’d like you two on lookout today,” Melanie said. “Move from the conference room to the office to the back doors at regular intervals, okay?”

Shona and Nathan glanced at each other.

“Okay, but do we have to be armed?” Shona asked.

“Best to have a gun on hand at all times,” Melanie said. “Just be ready to raise the alarm if you see anyone approaching the gate or coming over the wall.”

“The alarm was broken by Brian,” Nathan noted, “but I can use the sports whistle. I’ll hang it around my neck.”

“Good idea,” Melanie said. “Just don’t get distracted. Keep your gaze beyond the walls.”

As she took a bite of a cracker, Melanie looked at each member of the group in turn. Her husband was mostly recovered from the infected wound, thanks to Josh’s care. He’d lost a bit of weight from the sickness, which had given his face a sunken look, but there was life and energy in his eyes again. Melanie reached over and patted his hand, and he smiled at her over the rim of his coffee cup.

Thank you, Josh, she thought. I just wish I could have saved your life too.

Lizzy and Mr. Turner, Shona and Nathan, Mark, Rita, even Dusty—this was her family now. They were tired and sore, bore the scabs and scars of brutal fighting, had the weariness of the last few weeks in their eyes, but they were together. Still, as Melanie considered all the work that remained to be done, she felt a moment of trembling doubt. The factory had been burned, grenaded, tear gassed, and shot up. The walls, floors, and ceilings were pockmarked, cracked, and blackened. How much more could the building taken before it all came crashing down?

As she took another sip of coffee, Melanie dared to entertain the thought of finding some other place, some new place that wasn’t on the target list of a maniac like Cooper, that wasn’t bent and cracked and broken. Even if the building was destined to come crashing down, at least her family was doing well, all things considered. Not just surviving, but thriving.

We might just make it, she thought, and she met Lizzy’s gaze—her best friend—and traded a hopeful smile with her as she took another sip of coffee.

EPILOGUE

Melanie was sitting on the end of the production line, at the place where the boxes used to be stacked for packing the wrapped snack cakes. She still remembered what the place had looked like then, so it was becoming increasingly harder to connect this dim, damaged place with the bright, sugar-scented factory of the olden days. At the moment, she was sitting in this particular location because it gave her the best big-picture view of the underside of the walkway.

Rita had set up a bunch of flashlights, positioning them to give maximum light to the area under the walkway. She clearly wanted to show off all the hard work they’d done.

“A couple of the support posts here were shredded,” she said, gesturing with her hands like she was a host on a game show presenting a prize to the contestants. “We’re lucky the walkway didn’t collapse.”

Rita, Lizzy, and Mr. Turner had tried to fix the damage by welding scrap metal to the support posts. It didn’t look all that sturdy to Melanie, but it was better than nothing. Unfortunately, the damage was far more widespread than that. The handrail, walkway, and walls were also in poor shape.

After Rita spent a few minutes showing off all of the work they’d done, Melanie cleared her throat and said, as politely as possible, “So, what are the odds that the walkway is still going to come crashing down someday?”

Rita gave her a sour look. “Why would you ask that? You’re not impressed with all of our expert repairs?”

“You did a great job,” Melanie replied. “I’m still concerned about the structural integrity of the building. Don’t take it the wrong way. I just need to know. Even with the repairs, how likely is it that all of this is going to collapse from sheer exhaustion?”

Rita glanced over her shoulder at the nearest support post, then turned back to Melanie and gave her a dramatic shrug. “More than zero percent. What can I say, boss? We’re doing all we can to keep the thing standing, but we had crazy people shooting and blowing things up in here, throwing Molotov cocktails and tear gas and grenades.”

“Yeah, I got it,” Melanie said with a sigh. “Thanks for all of your hard work, Rita. I appreciate it. We’d be in big trouble without you.”

At this, the sour expression disappeared, and Rita grinned proudly, hands planted on her hips. “Well, we’ve still got bullet holes in the hallway and some other stuff, but…we’re getting there.”

“Well, keep it…”

Melanie’s words trailed off as she heard the sharp trill of a whistle coming from elsewhere in the building. It went through her like ice, making her whole body go instantly tense. She hopped off the production line and headed for the ramp. Nothing needed to be said. They all knew what that whistle meant, and Rita fell in behind her as she ran back up to the double doors.

The sound was coming from upstairs. Either Shona or Nathan was blowing that whistle relentlessly. What could it mean? Melanie almost didn’t want to know. By the time she reached the bottom step, Lizzy, Mark, and Mr. Turner had already come running from around the corner. They all practically collided as they tried to ascend the stairs at the same time.

“Get the guns,” Melanie said, gesturing at Mr. Turner, then at Lizzy. “Prepare our defenses.”

“Is Cooper back?” Lizzy asked.

But Melanie had no answer to this, so she headed upstairs as Lizzy turned and raced toward the supply closet. The closer Melanie got to the top of the stairs, the more ear-piercing the shrill whistle became, and finally she could take it no more.

“I hear you, Nathan,” she cried. “I hear you! Cut it out! We’re coming!”

She threw open the door to the conference room. Nathan and Shona were standing in front of the window. The glass had been shattered, of course, during one of the battles, but they’d covered over the hole with plastic sheeting, pulling it taut so they could see through. Nathan had the whistle, and he was giving it the full-lung treatment right up until Melanie started across the room.

“Nathan, you’re killing me,” she said, grabbing her forehead. “I hear you!”

“Sorry, I just wanted everyone to hurry,” he replied, dropping the whistle.

Poor Dusty was cowered under the table, but she dared to poke her head out from under. Shona was facing the window, staring at something in the direction of the gate.

“Tell me Cooper wasn’t stupid enough to come back,” Melanie said. “How many times is it going to take until he figures out we’re tougher than him?”

Shona slowly turned to her, eyes wide and filled with fear. “Mom, it’s not Cooper. You’d better look at this.”

Melanie traded an anxious look with Mark and rushed toward her daughter.

“Oh, God, what is it now?” Rita muttered from behind her.

Melanie put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and gazed through the plastic sheeting. Even though the clear plastic had been pulled taut and glued in place, it still created just a little bit of distortion. Still, as Melanie gazed beyond the gate, she saw the long line of large, dark shapes moving down the highway.

A shiver ran up her spine. Turning back, she reached toward the nearby conference table, where they kept some of their lookout gear. She grabbed a pair of binoculars and raised them to her eyes. Now, she saw clearly. Vehicles, large vehicles, all in three-color camouflage green. They moved with purpose, cutting right down the middle of the highway.

In the lead, a massive M1 Abrams tank blazed the trail, rolling over stalled cars as if they were little more than debris in the road. Behind the tank, she saw a range of US Army vehicles: Stryker infantry carriers, Humvees, Growler light vehicles, and more. The line of them trailed northwest down the highway and disappeared into the distance.

“My God, how many of them are there?” she said in a breath, her body filled with an electric mix of awe and terror.

“What is it?” Mark asked. She felt his hand touching lightly between her shoulder blades. “Who is it?”

“The US military is here,” Melanie replied. She followed the tank as it flattened an old Chevy Caprice. “They’re headed in this direction.”

“Toward Knoxville or toward us?” Mark asked.

“I don’t know,” Melanie replied.

“Is this a good thing or a bad thing?” Shona asked, her voice quavering badly.

Melanie lowered the binoculars and hugged her daughter a little tighter. “I don’t know, Shona. I just don’t know.”

END OF ENDURING CHAOS

EMP DISASTER BOOK TWO

BLURB

Abandon all hope…

The factory was supposed to be the last safe haven left on Earth after an EMP catastrophe shut down power worldwide. But Melanie’s group isn’t the only one who wants it. A militia who are determined to capture Nate take over her base of operations, forcing Melanie, her family, and her friends to flee into the unforgiving wasteland.

Beyond the walls, the outside world continues to spiral into darkness. With enemies on their trail, Melanie’s only hope for survival is to keep moving… or sacrifice Nate for the good of the group. After all, they can’t run forever, and she can’t deny that caring for Nate is slowing them down…

Hunted and on the run, the threat of sickness and injury hangs over their heads. Their journey will take them through savage territory, populated by desperate people who will do anything to survive. If her ragtag group can’t find a new shelter, tragedy will claim them all.

But when a team member goes missing, Melanie is forced to make a choice: keep moving forward, or risk it all to make a stand…

1

Melanie marveled at the long line of vehicles, all in three-color camouflage green. They cut their way down the middle of the interstate, led by a massive M1 Abrams tank that rolled right over stalled vehicles in its way. She used the scope of her rifle to watch them as they drew nearer. Mark watched from beside her. Her husband was still recovering from the infected gunshot wound in his shoulder. He needed rest, but she couldn’t begrudge him a good long look at the caravan.

“I wonder if Knoxville is in worse shape than we realize.” That was Rita Mires, the metalworker who was also the newest resident of the factory. She was standing behind Melanie’s left shoulder. “Maybe it’s been completely overrun by criminals, and the U.S. military has finally arrived to liberate the city.”

“It was already practically overrun the last time we tried to drive through town,” Mark said, his eye to the scope of the rifle. “Let’s not forget the hospital.”

“No one who was there will ever forget the creepy bloodsucking hospital,” Lizzy said.

“Well, my point is, maybe the military is finally on their way to deal with people like that,” Mark said. “Maybe this is the moment when things start to return to normal. Maybe we’re seeing order get restored.”

“Your capacity for optimism never ceases to amaze me,” Mr. Turner said. Melanie’s adoptive father was standing close to the clear plastic sheet that served as window glass for the factory’s upstairs conference room.

“Well, can you think of any reason to be afraid of these people?” Mark asked.

“I’ll give you one good reason,” Mr. Turner said. “I know those are Army vehicles, but it doesn’t look like a real U.S. Army convoy. Some of the vehicles are driving way too close to each other. As I recall, close column formations require twenty-five to fifty meters between vehicles and a speed under twenty-five miles per hour. These guys are a lot closer and moving a lot faster. Above twenty-five, they should be about a hundred meters apart from each other.”

“That’s some esoteric knowledge,” Rita Mires said. “You’ve done your research.”

“Well, I was a tank engineer many years ago,” Mr. Turner said. “I know what a convoy is supposed to look like, and this isn’t right. No commanding officer would put up with this.”

“Dad, what are you suggesting?” Melanie’s best friend Lizzy was sitting on the edge of the conference table behind her father. “So there’s something irregular about the convoy. What does that mean?”

“I don’t know what it means,” he replied. “We’ve got a convoy of U.S. Army vehicles headed down the interstate toward Knoxville, and for some reason, they’re not in proper formation. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Rogue military personnel?” Rita said. “Stolen military vehicles? Or just lax on-the-job performance due to a stressful workplace culture? What are the options here?”

“Let’s not jump to any conclusions just yet,” Melanie said. “We’re just keeping an eye on them for the time being.”

“I wasn’t jumping to conclusions, boss,” Rita replied. “I was presenting the options.”

Melanie felt a little jolt when she realized the lead tank was slowing down. It was close now, maybe a hundred yards from the nearest exit. Surely, they didn’t mean to leave the highway this far from the actual city. Knoxville was still a good thirty-five miles down the road. Nevertheless, it became clear now that they were slowing, and then the tank veered to the right, aiming for the exit.

“They’re exiting,” she said. “Why would they take the access road?”

“It’ll bring them right past the factory,” Rita noted. “Heck, we could wave to the tank driver from the window here.”

“They can’t be coming to the factory, can they?” Mark said. “Surely the U.S. military didn’t send a convoy to take a snack cake factory.”

“Surely not,” Lizzy echoed. “There have to be much bigger targets in Knoxville. Beaton’s isn’t all that big, not really, and it looks like a mess from the outside these days.”

“Even if they know we’re here, why would we be a target for the military?” Mark said.

“We don’t know that they’re coming to the factory,” Melanie said. “Everyone remain calm.”

An M1 Abrams tank, two Humvees, and three Jeeps ultimately left the highway, heading toward the access road that passed right in front of the factory. They were close enough now that Melanie could see some kind of insignia or logo on the armored skirt of the tank beneath the turret. She couldn’t tell what it was—just a blob of red and black.

“Shona, you have better eyesight than me,” she said, gesturing at her daughter. “Take a look through the rifle scope at the tank. Tell me what that insignia on the side is. I can’t make out the details.”

“Could be a division unit insignia,” Mr. Turner said. “If we can see it clearly, we might be able to figure out where these people are from and what they’re doing.”

Shona took the rifle from her hands and put the scope to her eye, peering at the approaching vehicles. She gazed into the distance for a few seconds.

“If I had to guess, I’d say they’re coming here to provide support for the area,” Lizzy said. Melanie could tell she was nervously swinging her feet, occasionally banging the heel of her sneakers into the leg of the conference table. “They can see that the factory is still intact. It’s not a burned-out husk like that shopping center next door, so they’re going to stop and say hello, see what we need.”

“Lovely thought, Liz, but something’s not right, I’m telling you,” Mr. Turner replied. “This isn’t an Army convoy. I don’t know who it is.”

“Dad, stop trying to scare everyone,” Lizzy said. “You heard Melanie. She said let’s not jump to any conclusions.”

“I didn’t jump to anything,” Mr. Turner said. “I merely stated the obvious.”

Melanie shushed them both. “Shona, what do you see? Describe it to me.”

“It’s like a painted logo or something,” Shona replied, lowering the rifle. “A mascot maybe. It looks like an animal. Maybe a weasel, I’m not sure. Red and black.”

At this, Shona’s friend Nathan suddenly lurched backward and pressed a hand to his chest, as if he’d been stricken. “Red and black insignia of an animal? You said a weasel. Could it be a wolverine?”

“I don’t really know for sure what a wolverine looks like.” Shona said, handing him the rifle. “Look for yourself. Some kind of animal with big, pointy teeth. It’s not really well-done. Whoever painted it probably wasn’t a professional artist.”

Nathan raised the rifle, looked for maybe two seconds, then almost dropped it from hands that suddenly began to shake. “It is a wolverine.”

Melanie swooped down and grabbed the rifle before he could drop it. She looked at the tank again. The vehicles were moving down the access road now, passing a warehouse a short distance away. The tank was close enough that she could make out the stylized animal design, but she could not have identified it as a wolverine.

“Nathan, what is the significance of the insignia?” she asked. “Does a wolverine symbol on the side of a tank mean something to you?”

He didn’t answer right away, but he had a horrified look on his face. His tongue was flicking his lower lip back and forth. The kid was rather gawky and awkward anyway, with a big mop of messy hair and a thin face. He looked about a hundred times more awkward at the moment.

“Nathan?” she asked, a bit more sharply. “Does that insignia mean something to you?”

Shona nudged him with her elbow, and he blinked rapidly a few times. Then he seemed to swallow a big knot in his throat and slowly turned to face the others. “It’s a militia. The Wolverines. They’re armed to the teeth, and I’m telling you guys right now, they are definitely headed to this factory. Definitely. They’re not here to provide support for the area. They’re not here to help survivors or fight bandits or anything else.” And then Nathan locked eyes with Melanie and added, in a breathless voice, “The Wolverine Militia is coming for us.”

A few horrible seconds passed. The certainty in Nathan’s eyes hit her hard, and she felt a quaking terror slowly fill her belly.

Finally, Mr. Turner cleared his throat and said, “They’ve brought an M1 Abrams tank, for God’s sake.”

2

There was no mistaking it now. The lead tank was slowing down as it approached the factory, though it still made no attempt to avoid the stalled vehicles on the road. It rolled over just about anything that got in its way, flattening everything with impunity. A stray dog hiding inside a Honda Accord leapt out of the open driver’s door at the last second and fled desperately before the left treads of the tank crushed its makeshift home.

“Nathan, how can you be so sure that this Wolverine Militia is headed to our factory?” Melanie asked.

“Because I know them,” he replied. “I know these people.”

“You’ve read about them?” Lizzy asked. “Or you know them personally?”

“Well…neither, actually,” he replied. “You guys already know how my dad was big into the survivalist stuff, even making his own weird little cult, but it’s actually a longer history than that. It’s…uh…” He gnawed on his fingernail for a second, then pressed on. “My family has been tied up with these weirdos, this Wolverine Militia, for a long time. Josh would’ve told you all about them if he was still here, because he knew them too. And that means Cooper has some association with them as well. I don’t know if he was still friendly with the militia, but if I had to guess, I’d say Cooper probably fled to them after we retook this place.”

“Like a bully who loses a fight on the playground and runs to his bigger cousins to help him get revenge,” Mr. Turner said.

“Yeah, something like that,” Nathan said.

Melanie was peering through the scope of the Weatherby. She considered lowering the rifle in case militia members spotted her and took it as a hostile act. But, then again, if Nathan was right, this was already a hostile act.

“What do we do?” Mark said, grabbing Melanie’s shoulder and squeezing it. Clearly, he wanted some kind of reassurance. “If Nathan is right and they’re here to get revenge for Cooper, how do we defend ourselves?”

“I guess we need to get our guns and take up positions again,” Mr. Turner said. “We’re not helpless here. We’ve driven off enemies before. At least we have a somewhat defensible position.”

“Dad, you already said it—they’ve got a tank,” Lizzy replied. “There’s nothing in our supply closets that can handle a tank. Not tear gas, not bullets, not the L-RAD. Nothing!”

“Well, they’re not going to shell the factory,” Mr. Turner said. “Not if they want the stuff inside. Even if they’re here for revenge, all of the weapons and ammunition will be too tempting to risk destroying the building. If anything, they’ll try to break down a door and come inside. That gives us at least some chance to hold them off.” He said this last in an almost plaintive voice. “Just like the last battle, we know this place better than they do. We know the secret places, so that gives us a strategic advantage. Doesn’t it?”

Melanie supposed the question was directed at her. She was usually the one to come up with a plan when things seemed bleak, but this time, she was at a loss. She watched the tank as it came to a stop beside the factory’s short entrance road. The Humvees and Jeeps pulled up behind it and also came to a stop. Melanie’s stomach-churning fear was edging toward despair. The people around her were waiting for her to make some kind of decision, and it was clear to her what that decision would be. Still, after all they’d been through, she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud.

Finally, she stepped closer to the plastic sheet, and something defiant tried to rise up within her. She felt it. A furious and hateful feeling.

Fight them, the voice said. Throw absolutely everything you have at them. Fire every bullet. Throw every tear gas canister. Burn them. Blast them. Drive them away. This is your home now, and you earned it with blood and grief.

She thought of poor Josh dying on the hallway floor, the light leaving his eyes. Had the man died for nothing? Melanie was trying to come up with some viable defense strategy in her mind when Lizzy cleared her throat loudly and dragged her out of her own thoughts. She glanced back over her shoulder and saw her best and oldest friend sitting on the conference room table. Her long blondish hair needed brushing and conditioning, but it wasn’t as if they had access to a lot of fancy hair care products these days. Lizzy was scared, swinging her feet back and forth with renewed intensity.

“Melanie, what’s the plan?” she asked. “You’re awfully quiet over there. Tell me the wheels are turning in that brain of yours.”

And Melanie’s daughter, standing right beside her, added, “Mom, we have to do something. We can’t stand here and wait for them to attack.”

In that moment, Melanie almost said exactly what was on her mind. The furious desire to defend her family and property was a fraction of a second from tumbling out, all sorts of crazy plans for fighting an armed force with military-grade vehicles and weapons to match. However, the small shape of her daughter at her side managed to break through the angry fog.

She reached up and gripped her own forehead, squeezing so hard it hurt. “The factory is in such bad shape,” she muttered. “We’ve tried hard to fix the walkway, the walls, the support posts, and everything else. A stiff wind might blow it over at this point, and now we’ve got a tank parked outside.”

She was speaking far too quietly, so she gathered up her courage and turned to face the others. Her gaze went from Mark to Lizzy to Mr. Turner to Rita to the floor at her feet. Dusty, their little mutt of a dog, was positioned near the conference room door. She usually stuck close to Shona and Nathan, but right now she seemed to realize there was a threat. Indeed, it looked like she was anxious to leave.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have a plan for defending the factory. I just don’t. Not against a militia. It’s not worth the risk, so I’m sorry to say, I think it’s time to start gathering up our most vital supplies and packing them in some way that we can drag them out of here.”

“Whoa, wait. We’re abandoning the factory?” Mr. Turner said. He took a step back, as if the idea had struck him hard. “Just like that? We’re not even going to try to defend ourselves before fleeing?”

“We don’t have time to set up booby traps. We don’t have heavy weapons. There’s nothing we can do right now. Anyway, it won’t be the first time we’ve had to flee,” Melanie said. “So, for now, just gather supplies, okay? I’ll think about the next step while you do that. Bring everything to the closet with the drainpipe.” When they didn’t move right away, she snapped her fingers. “Go, go, come on. Move fast. Hurry. We may only have a few minutes to act here, and we’ve stood around long enough talking about it. If you want to live, get moving.”

That did the trick. Rita groaned and turned, heading back across the conference room. Lizzy hopped off the table and went with her. Mr. Turner sighed and left next.

Melanie passed the rifle to Shona, who took it but gave her mother a questioning look.

“Shona, I want you to you stay here and keep an eye on the militia,” she said. “If it looks like they’re going to attack, raise the alarm. Keep your eye absolutely glued on those vehicles. Don’t look away, not even for a second. Got it?”

“Okay, Mom. What if they see me standing up here?”

“Stand to one side in the shadows. There may be a glare on the plastic sheet, especially this time of the morning.”

Shona raised the rifle. It looked like Nathan was going to stay with her, but she nudged him with an elbow. He got the message. Hanging his head, he turned and walked away. Both Mark and Dusty followed him. Melanie gave the militia vehicles a last lingering look, wanting to see something that would somehow change the situation, some miraculous revelation that would turn despair into hope. But, no, the situation was clear.

“It never ends,” she muttered. “The enemies beyond the walls never stop coming.” She patted Shona on the back. “Any sign they’re attacking, raise the alarm. I mean, anything at all.” Then she left the room.

She headed down the stairs to the supply closet. It was already wide open, and flashlights were moving above deep within. She heard the clank of the gun cabinet door, the clatter of guns being taken off the racks. Melanie went inside and strode down the center aisle to find Rita and Mr. Turner collecting rifles and ammunition. The guns went onto a handcart, the boxes of bullets into a large duffel bag.

“No, stop that,” Melanie said. She tried not to snap at them, but her every thought felt like it was on fire. Max and Rita swung around to look at her. “Two guns for every person: a rifle and a handgun. That’s it. No more than that. Enough bullets to go around, maybe some tear gas and smoke bombs. Otherwise, focus on medicine and basic survival supplies like rope, knives, food, and water. Got it?”

“Mel, we can’t just leave all of these guns for some evil militia to snatch up,” Max Turner said. “There are a heck of a lot of bullets in here.”

“Pop, we won’t be able to take much,” Melanie said. “We’re carrying everything we’re walking out of here with, okay? So with our limited capacity, we’re going to prioritize our own well-being out there in the world. This isn’t the time for a debate. Just do what I ask, please.”

He grunted, clearly unhappy. He and Rita had already stacked well more than two guns per person onto the handcart, and they seemed reluctant to remove any of them. However, Melanie held her ground, standing there with her hands on her hips.

“Medicine and basic supplies,” Rita said, picking a .22 rifle off the handcart and placing it back into the gun cabinet. “You got it, boss.”

“Weapons are important, but they’re a lower priority,” Melanie explained. “We’re fleeing, not fighting. Don’t forget that.”

Mr. Turner almost said something then. He even got as far as opening his mouth. It was a strange dynamic, telling her own adoptive father what to do. Bossing him around like he was some enlisted man and she was a three-star general. Still, that was how things worked best around here. After a moment, he grabbed a couple of Glocks off the handcart and shoved them back into the cabinet.

“Well, if that’s the way it has to be, then all right,” he said finally. “A rifle and a handgun for every person, and that’s it. We’ll get it done.”

“Okay, good. When you’re done, head to the closet with the drainpipe. I’ll be there soon.”

Rita saluted her and went back to work.

Melanie left the closet and went to look for the others. She found Mark in Derrick’s old office upstairs, shoving fistfuls of medical supplies into an old backpack. He grabbed bandages, antiseptic, pill bottles, and patches, with little regard to maintaining any kind of order. Nearby, the meticulous inventory they had completed of everything on the shelves and desk sat neglected. The irony didn’t escape Melanie. All of their careful work tracking and cataloguing every item, and now they were just stuffing it into bags by the fistful.

“Prioritize wound care supplies and medicine,” Melanie said. “And…hurry, Mark. Hurry.”

“I’m moving as fast as my gimp shoulder will let me move,” he said.

“Okay, don’t reinjure yourself,” she said. “When that backpack is full, head to the drainpipe. Don’t linger. Just grab and go.”

“Grab and go,” he echoed. “You got it, dear.”

He tried to give her a reassuring smile as he shoved a bunch of pill bottles into the backpack. It didn’t quite work, but Melanie reached out and briefly touched his upper arm. “Did you see where Nathan went?”

Mark shook his head, so Melanie rushed out to find the kid. It took a while. He wasn’t in the supply closets. She didn’t hear him down in the offices or the break room, and when she went into the factory floor, she didn’t find him there initially. Then a single clank drew her to a closet beneath the damaged walkway. Here, she found the boy loading a small generator onto a pallet jack alongside the last of their gasoline in a plastic jerry can. Dusty was at his side, panting.

The dog alerted Nathan to her presence, and he gestured at the generator with a sweep of his arm and said, “We might need it if we end up in some other building out there somewhere. I know it’s kind of heavy, but what if we have to power lights or something?”

Some other building out there. That stung. Melanie felt something terribly close to grief, and it took a moment to stave off tears. No sense crying about a factory that they were sure to lose anyway, right? As long as they got away with their lives. Even if that meant they wound up roaming the city looking for an abandoned house or business where they could safely hunker down.

“We’ll try to take it with us,” Melanie said, “but I don’t know how the escape will go. I hope it won’t break your heart if we end up dumping it somewhere along the way.”

“Whatever you think, ma’am,” Nathan replied, pushing the generator into place. “I guess it doesn’t matter as long as that tank doesn’t blow everyone to bits.”

It was just a little too blunt. “Let’s not talk like that, okay? Bring that generator to the drain closet and wait there for us. We’ll be out of here in another minute or two.”

He grabbed the handles of the pallet jack and kicked off the brake. “Ma’am, these people are the worst. The sooner we get out of here, the better. They were too intense even for my father. It’s why he stopped actively attending meetings a few years ago. The downfall of the entire country is like their sweetest dream coming true. They’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this.”

“You grew up with these people?” Melanie asked.

“Off and on,” Nathan replied. “I tried my best not to get too caught up in the militia nonsense, but they were always lurking in the background of my childhood. I remember being dragged to a few meetings when I was really little. Mostly, I just tried to hide in the corner and go unnoticed.”

“I hate to say it, but your father was like a link in a chain that just keeps leading us to worse and more dangerous people,” Melanie said. “From Derrick to Cooper and now from Cooper to this militia. I’m afraid of what we’ll find at the end of that chain.”

3

A large dark spot on the factory floor ramp marked the location where Brian had died some weeks earlier, executed at Melanie’s own hands for his betrayal. She usually tried not to notice these marks of past violence, but it seemed fitting that the warning whistle should sound just as she was stepping over the bloodstain. Shona was sounding the alarm. What had she seen? Terrible visions of the tank rolling over the gate, smashing it flat, of dozens of armed militiamen streaming through the opening, danced through Melanie’s head. They’d waited too long to flee.

We should’ve grabbed a few guns, some medical supplies, and left right away, she thought.

She ran through the double doors to find Rita and Mr. Turner peering through the open closet door. Rita had the blue duffel bag hanging heavily from her left shoulder. As Melanie headed up the stairs, she realized they were following her. By the time she got to the conference room, everyone was there, crowded in behind her as Shona continued to blow the whistle that served as their alarm. Only Dusty held back, lurking between the conference table and the far wall.

“Shona, what is it?” Melanie asked, pushing through the conference room door.

“Mom, come look at this!” When Shona spoke, the coach’s whistle fell from her mouth, and since the chain wasn’t around her neck, it went all the way to the carpeted floor.

As Melanie crossed the room, Nathan managed to squeeze past her and get to Shona first. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Shona nodded and handed the rifle to him. Under normal circumstances, Melanie would have been irritated about this. Nathan was supposed to be moving supplies into position for their escape. Why had Shona chosen to give him the rifle before giving it to the clear decision-maker?

Still, under the circumstances, Melanie had little room for anything other than desperate terror at the impending attack. She strode up behind Nathan and bit her lip, as he peered through the window. From here, Melanie could see the tank parked at the end of the factory’s entrance road, the Humvees and Jeeps fanned out on the access road behind it. She also saw a person standing on the hull near the driver’s hatch, but it was a bit too far to make out many details about them.

“What do you see, Nathan?” Melanie asked.

Instead of answering, he made a weird little whimper and slowly lowered the rifle. His breathing became fast and panicky. He showed no sign of relinquishing the rifle, however, clutching it tightly against his stomach as he continued to peer through the window. Shona realized something was wrong, and she grabbed his shoulder, leaning in close. Finally, Melanie had had enough. She stooped down and snagged the rifle, pulling it out of his grip.

“Nathan, are you okay?” Shona asked. “What is it? Say something!”

He didn’t reply, not at first. Melanie peered through the scope and aimed for the tank. Others had begun to gather around the front of the tank, exiting the line of vehicles behind it. However, one person stood out from the pack. She was standing beside the driver’s hatch, one arm resting on the tank turret.

She wore a long-brimmed black hat, with a tactical vest over some kind of black uniform, and shiny boots. A small silver shape glinted above the brim of her hat, on the cuffs of her long-sleeves, and on the sides of her boots. Melanie saw a handgun holstered on the left side of her belt, a long-handled knife on the right.

She had the bearings of a leader, standing with a straight back, legs slightly apart, a hard look on her face. She seemed to be roughly Melanie’s age, mid-thirties, with short blond hair poking out from under the hat, and a tanned face that was all sharp angles and deep lines. She was pretty in a way, but there also was something deeply unpleasant about her, something severe in the glint of her dark eyes, the set of her jaw, the tight line of her lips.

“I’m guessing the woman on the tank is the leader of this militia,” Melanie said. “Nathan, do you know her? Do you at least know her name?”

“Yes,” he said, so softly she almost didn’t hear him. “I know her name. Of course. Sue Ellen.”

“I take it she has some connection with your father.” Melanie lowered the rifle and turned to Nathan. The poor kid looked devastated.

“She used to.” He swallowed, took a deep breath, and said it. “That’s my mom.”

This revelation went through the room like thunder. Melanie heard the others reeling, gasping. Shona pressed her fingers to her lips.

“Whoa…wait…” Lizzy said, a bit louder than necessary. “That’s your mom? Did I hear that correctly?”

“Yeah.”

“Your mother is a leader in the Wolverine Militia?” Melanie asked.

“I guess so,” Nathan said. “I mean, I didn’t know that until now. Actually, during the time I lived with her, she only had occasional contact with them. I guess that all changed after I left.”

“What is she doing here now?” Melanie said. “Please, if you can connect the dots, it sure would help, because I need to know what to expect. Are we in danger?”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Nathan was clearly struggling. His eyes roamed around for a bit, his tongue flicking against his lower lip. Finally, he glanced at Melanie and said, “Mom dumped me at my dad’s right before crap hit the fan. It was only supposed to be temporary. She even put a note in my backpack that said a bunch of lame stuff. ‘I’ll send for you once things settle down.’ That was her promise. Heck, I tried to walk to her house on my own the day everything happened, but I didn’t get far.”

“I remember that,” Melanie replied. “Cooper and Josh tracked you down and grabbed you.”

Nathan nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. They made me go back to my dad. Anyway, after the power went out, I figured I’d never see Mom again, but here she is. Suddenly, she’s just standing there on a tank.” He laughed, but it was an incredulous and disturbed laugh. “Weirder things have happened, I guess.”

“This is in the top three, for sure,” Melanie said. Wanting to comfort the kid somehow, she forced herself to reach out and gently pat him on the back. It felt strange. She’d never really gotten close to him, mostly because of his connection to Derrick Platt, though she bore him no ill will. He was a good kid. “I don’t suppose you can tell us why your mother would be standing on a tank surrounded by a bunch of armed militiamen.”

“Well, of course I can,” he said. “My grandpa formed the Wolverine Militia. It was his idea in the first place. He lived in this little bitty town south of Nashville, a town called Elk Valley. It’s pretty much a closed community, far from the highway, so out of the way. Not many visitors. It almost looked like one of those religious cults. The militia probably started off as little more than a rural gun club or something, but Grandpa inserted his politics. They’d have meetings in this wood-paneled meeting hall where they sat around and talked about the fall of civilization and stuff—real uplifting talk, you know?” He looked at Melanie again, grimacing, and said, “Ma’am, if you thought my dad and his prepper ways were bad, then you’re really lucky you never met his father.”

“Is this revenge for Derrick’s death?” Melanie asked. “Is that why these people are here?”

“Well, Mom hated Dad for years, so she’s not doing anything for his sake, believe me,” Nathan said.

Melanie looked at the uniformed woman again. She appeared to be chatting with one of the men on the road in front of the tank. They all wore similar uniforms—black hat, tactical vest, black shirt, pants, and boots—but only the lead woman had the glints of silver.

“So, your grandfather formed the militia,” Melanie said. “How did they wind up with all of this Army equipment? It’s not like you can go down to a dealership and pick up a tank.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nathan said. “I haven’t been around the militia in years, but Grandpa was the kind of guy who would keep a tank on his property just for the heck of it. The whole place was surrounded by a tall fence with barbed wire on top, and you have to drive down this winding dirt road to get to the gate. Inside the compound, they had an aluminum shed that was full of weapons, a big dirt lot where they parked requisitioned military vehicles. He had a bunch of land and dogs and—”

“Wait, wait,” Rita said suddenly, cutting him off. “The woman standing there on the tank, that’s your mom, but the guy who started this militia was her father-in-law? What’s the family dynamic here, kid?”

“Yeah, Clarence Platt was his name,” Nathan said. “But Mom is from the same small town, where everyone basically knows everyone, so it doesn’t make much difference. Weird as it sounds, it’s like a big extended family there.”

“Oh, gosh,” Rita said. “So, taking back the factory is a family affair now.”

“Ironically, she was on the outs with the militia during the last couple of years,” Nathan said. “It almost made her somewhat normal. She lived in Knoxville and had a regular job and everything. I guess the solar event drove her back to Elk Valley, and she made her power move,” Nathan said. “I assume she fell back in with the militia and used her connection to Dad to assert some authority. Maybe with Clarence gone, there was a bit of a power vacuum, so she filled it. It’s the kind of thing she would do. You know how my dad hated not getting his way? Well, Mom was one of the few people who could push him around, and she did. Mom is not afraid of anyone, not even the crustiest, gnarliest old guy out of the woods.”

Melanie was thoughtful for a moment. “So it’s your mom at the end of that chain then.”

“Oh, that’s not a mystery,” Nathan said. “My mother is definitely the end of the chain. Have you ever seen a medieval flail? It’s a weapon with a long chain and a big spiked ball on the end. Yeah, my mother is that big spiked ball, and when she is denied something that she thinks belongs to her, she just starts swinging away.”

“I’m sorry you had to grow up in that kind of environment, Nathan,” Melanie said. “You know your mom the best, so tell us, do you have any recommendation for how to deal with her?”

“The only way to deal with her when she’s like this is to get away from her, then get farther away from her, then get even farther away.”

The man that Nathan’s mom had spoken to saluted her and headed back along the tank to one of the Humvees. He opened a back door and reached inside, fishing around.

“But what’s she doing here?” Mr. Turner said. “And why did she bring the militia? Why now?”

“I guess she knew something about Dad’s supplies,” Nathan said. “And maybe she learned something about the battles that happened here. It looks like she came prepared for a fight. And she will. She will fight. Mom gets her way. She always gets her way.”

The way he said this—quietly, full of awe or fear—sent a little shiver down Melanie’s spine. She always gets her way. The man stepped away from the Humvee carrying a large black megaphone. He brought it back to Nathan’s mom, and she reached down and took it from him. Then she rose up tall, standing straight, broad-shouldered, feet apart, right hand held straight down at her side.

Melanie heard the bark of the megaphone as she pulled the trigger, and as the woman spoke, her voice blasted across the gap and over the factory wall.

“Nathan! Nathan Platt! This is your mother!” she said. A strong voice, harsh as a broken concrete edge. “Nathan, I know you’re inside the factory, and I know you are being held, possibly against your will, by hostile forces! I have come to collect you! If you can leave of your own volition, come outside. If you’re unable to leave, hold tight, stay safe. I’m coming in to get you.”

Melanie lowered the rifle again and turned to Nathan. Everyone in the room was looking at him now. The young man was hunched, grimacing, his arms crossed tightly across his belly.

4

Though he’d been quite young, Nathan’s memories of the meeting hall were still very vivid. Indeed, it was one of those deeply-rooted places in his mind that often came back in dreams. In his dreams, the wood-paneled walls were always dingy, cracked, and dented in a few places where he’d always imagined one of the militia members had lost their temper and punched them repeatedly.

Hearing his mother’s voice now brought it all flooding back. He could see it clearly. The room had two rows of mismatched pews that looked like they’d been stolen from different churches. They were set in uneven rows facing a dais at the front of the room. Grandpa’s chair was on that dais, an upholstered green chair that was permanently fitted to the shape of him. Behind him, an enormous upside-down American flag hung from the wall beside a tapestry bearing the crude logo of the Wolverine militia.

During most of those meetings, Nathan did his best to get away and hide. His favorite spot was a back corner of the room near the building’s only restroom. This put him behind the pews, in a shadowy spot that wasn’t quite reached by the room’s row of flickering fluorescent lights. In the most vivid memory, Nathan was curled up on the linoleum floor in the corner, trying to play with his action figures, while Grandpa’s booming baritone voice thrummed in the air.

He could see beneath the pews all the way to the front of the room, but it was only rows of feet. Combat boots, some black and some camouflage green. A couple pairs of cowboy boots. Grandpa preferred sneakers, and he liked them new and bright. It was his one indulgence. He went through a pair practically every week. Mom was in the front row. Nathan could see her thick-soled boots, one of them lightly tapping the floor.

“They’ve been setting us up for the downfall for almost a hundred years now,” Grandpa said, the soles of his sneakers squeaking on the floor as he shifted position on his chair. “Acclimating us to the police state that will seize control once they implement the great overthrow, and how will that overthrow occur? We can’t say for sure, but it will be a widespread catastrophe. Induced but made to look natural.”

Cries of assent and agreement went through the room. Nathan clutched his action figures more tightly as some of the boots stomped on the floor. He felt the linoleum shuddering beneath him. Anytime the group got worked up, it made him nervous. He sensed the violent potential there, so he pushed himself back into the corner, pressing against the cold wood-paneled wall.

“When that calamity comes, they’ll expect us to roll over and bear the weight of tyranny,” Grandpa continued. “Save us! Save us! Take our freedom, but save us! That’s what most of them will say.”

“By God, we won’t fall for it,” a man in the crowd shouted.

“No, we certainly will not,” Grandpa replied. “We’ve made our plans, and the minute, the second, they make their move, we make ours. We know where the shadow government is weakest, and that’s where we’ll strike. Right around the time the black helicopters take flight, heading out across the country to enact the new laws, we will strike first and fast.”

Grandpa was getting louder, angrier, as he did during these meetings. Even at a very young age, Nathan knew there was something dangerous and unstable in all of this talk. The tension his speeches created made Nathan feel uncomfortable. He sensed people getting worked up. It created a kind of electricity in the air.

“They don’t know what we’re capable of,” Grandpa growled. “They don’t know what we’ve got. Heck, they’ve overlooked us entirely, but we’re ready at a moment’s notice. We’re always ready!”

This produced clapping, cheering, whoops, and cries of, “No tyranny!” Nathan finally dropped his action figures, curled up into a ball, and wrapped his arms around his head. This covered both his eyes and ears, but it didn’t entirely drown out the noise.

“No tyranny! No tyranny!”

The cries chased him into the darkness.

Remembering this now, the irony struck him as almost laughable. There had been no tyranny after the solar event fried the power grid. On the contrary, local, state, and the federal government had all been overwhelmed and practically dissolved, and no shadow government had arisen to take their place. Things had simply crumbled in desperation and despair.

In his memory, however, Nathan could hear the certainty and angry defiance in the voices. Their cries had thundered in the meeting hall, trembling in the walls. It got so bad that Nathan finally pressed his face to the floor. He only became aware of the pounding footfalls at the last second. Someone approaching the back of the room fast.

Nathan rolled onto his side and lowered his arms. The crowd was still murmuring and excited, Grandpa had resumed his speech, but Nathan’s gaze went to the big black boots striding down the aisle between pews. He knew them all too well, and he braced himself. Suddenly, his mother appeared before him, stepping around the back of the last pew.

She was wearing a long camouflage jacket, a black shirt and pants underneath. Her hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, which made her forehead shiny. She lunged at him. He tried to squirm out of her reach, but he was backed up against the wall. There was nowhere to go. She snagged his arm and dragged him out of the corner, then yanked him off the floor and set him on his feet. When he refused to bear his own weight, she grabbed his shoulders and clamped down so tightly that it made him cry out in pain.

The militia meeting went right on as if this wasn’t happening. Nathan could see the people now, a sea of black shirts and hats, and no one spared even a glance for the crying boy in the back corner. Grandpa was slouched in his chair like a corpulent king in a black button-up shirt and sweatpants, a .44 Magnum resting on the armrest beside him. His face was broad, fat, pink, angry.

“You are embarrassing me,” Mother said, pulling Nathan in close. “Why are you hiding here in the back of the room?”

He finally got his feet under him and stood up, if only to make her ease up on his shoulders. He was crying now.

“You’re going to sit with me,” Mother said. “I won’t have you lurking in a corner like a coward. Do you understand me?”

She rose and pulled at him, trying to draw him toward the aisle. The thought of being dragged in front of all of those people terrified him, and he resisted, leaning back. But his mother only doubled down, grabbing his arm with both hands and yanking him forward. He fell against her, and she turned, propelling him into the aisle.

“I swear to God, sometimes you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” she muttered. “Your father wants custody so badly, maybe I should just give it to him. You keep up this behavior, this cowardly behavior, and someday I’m going to dump you on his porch and drive away. We’ll see if you like that better.”

That only made him cry harder, but now he was being dragged down the middle of the room, past the aisles of excited faces, toward that big green chair and the huge man who spilled over the cushions there. Grandpa leaned forward, his yellow teeth visible through the gap between his thin, cracked lips.

“Oh, now, what have we got here?” he said. “What are all of these tears for, little boy? Aren’t you five years old now? Old enough to learn a bit of dignity, I should think.”

For a moment, Nathan was convinced that his mother was going to drag him onto the dais and hand him over to his grandfather. He twisted around and pressed his face against her belly, but his mother bore him toward the front pew.

“Don’t even talk to him, Pa,” she said. “He’s going to sit with me, whether he likes it or not.”

“That boy should learn some self-respect,” his grandfather said. “He’s making a spectacle of himself. I blame his father for this tantrum.”

“You’re not wrong to do so.” She picked Nathan up and set him on the pew, then pushed him into a seated position. “Just stop talking about it, would you? Ignore him and get on with your speech.”

Nathan wanted to crawl away, but his mother had her arm wrapped tightly around him. Though he was upset, he had enough presence of mind to appreciate how his mother stood up to the old man. She wasn’t afraid of him, and Grandpa didn’t snap back at her.

“Son, don’t ever make me come after you again,” she said in a soft and dangerous voice at Nathan’s ear. “I won’t put up with a second generation of Derrick Platt. I swear to God I won’t.”

This was the clearest memory he had of a Wolverine militia meeting, but it was just one of many. And now, standing in the second-floor window, seeing his mother below with the militia arrayed around her, it all came flooding back. Suddenly, he was that little boy trying to hide in the corner.

5

As the woman below continued shouting into her megaphone, Melanie finally reached out and prodded Nathan in the side with her finger. This caused him to lurch forward so that he brushed against the clear plastic of the window.

“Careful,” Mr. Turner said. “We don’t want to give our position away.”

“They might already see us,” Lizzy said. “Maybe we should get out of here.”

Melanie grabbed the back of Nathan’s shirt and pulled him back. “Nathan, what do you want to do?” she asked. When he didn’t answer right away, she added, “As weird and hostile as it might seem to us, this woman is your mother, after all. She came all of this way to get you. Maybe you should go and be with her. Is that what you want?”

She looked through the rifle scope again. Nathan’s mom stood tall, unmoving, while others—men in black—dashed about like busy ants. She appeared to be giving them orders. Her mouth was moving, but she’d lowered the megaphone, so Melanie couldn’t tell what she was saying. Finally, one of the men, a young guy with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder, said something back to her. She strode to the edge of the tank, stooped down, and promptly backhanded him across the face. He stumbled backward, grabbing his cheek, then dashed off toward one of the Jeeps.

Oh, she seems like a gem, Melanie thought. How did Nathan wind up such a nice kid with parents like these?

Nathan still hadn’t responded to Melanie, so she turned to him. “What do you say? I know it’s a strange situation, but this is your mother. Don’t you want to be with her?”

Nathan was grimacing like he’d eaten something sour. He shook his head now, a small furtive movement. “Her name is Sue Ellen. I told you already, she dumped me on my dad’s doorstep basically. Mom doesn’t want me around.”

“She must care for you at least a little bit,” Mr. Turner said. “She came all this way to get you.”

“I doubt it,” Nathan said. “Anyway, I’m not going with her, not if I can help it, especially not now that she’s back with the militia. They’ll bring out the worst in her, and she’s bad enough on her own. She didn’t want me around before. I don’t know what changed her mind, but I wish she’d go back to where she came from.”

The kid clearly felt strongly about this, but it certainly created an awkward situation. This wasn’t some random stranger trying to kidnap a kid. This was Nathan’s mother. Didn’t she have every right to claim her son?

We have to figure this out, Melanie thought.

She stepped away from the window, went about halfway across the room, and beckoned the others to follow. Shona and Nathan stayed where they were, but Rita, Mr. Turner, Lizzy, and Mark approached, crowding around the conference table.

“We can’t keep a child from his mother,” Mark said. “Not when she has legal custody of him.”

“We can if there’s abuse,” Melanie replied. It was a subject that hit very close to home. Her husband was slow to make the connection, but now that he did, he sighed and bowed his head.

“He didn’t say there was abuse, though,” Lizzy said. “This isn’t like your upbringing, Mel. Nate doesn’t like the militia, but maybe Sue Ellen only joined up with them so she could safely track down her son. I mean, this seems like an easy solution. He can work things out with his mom, and we won’t have a tank parked on our doorstep. Everyone winds up safe and happy.”

“He clearly doesn’t want to go,” Melanie said. “Custodial parent or not, we’d be sending him into an extreme environment. I have to think about this kid’s mental health and well-being.” Yes, indeed, it hit very close to home. Melanie’s own biological parents had maintained custody through years of cruelty and neglect, and hadn’t she, in the end, been forced to run away from home in order to induce change? Surely, Lizzy understood that.

“Okay, but if he doesn’t want to go, shouldn’t he talk it over with his mom?” Lizzy said. “We can’t just flee with the kid.”

“You saw the people gathered down there,” Melanie replied. “Does that look like a safe environment to hash things out with his mother? No, I won’t send him down there if he doesn’t feel comfortable going. You of all people should understand why.”

Lizzy started to say more, but she merely sighed instead.

“We’re family now,” Melanie reminded her. “All of us in this factory. After everything we’ve gone through together, I intend to keep this kid safe. If that means keeping him out of an unsafe environment, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

None of them would argue with her now. She saw that in their faces, even if they were scared. Rita finally sniffed and said, “Well, you people kept me here, so I don’t see any reason to kick Nathan out. Let’s not make the kid go if he doesn’t want to go.”

Then Melanie heard and felt some kind of low rumble coming up through the floor. She pushed past Lizzy and went to the window. The tank was moving again, approaching the front gate.

Looks like the time for discussion is through, she thought.

6

“Okay, time to go,” Melanie said. “Right now. Grab whatever you managed to pack and follow me. Someone make sure Dusty doesn’t get left behind.”

Melanie swung the strap of the Weatherby rifle over her shoulder and beckoned the others to follow her. There was nothing else to see, nothing else to hear. They’d already delayed way too long trying to figure out the situation.

She made it halfway across the room before she realized that only Mark and Lizzy were following. The others were still facing the window, staring through the clear plastic as if they’d been snared in some kind of mental trap. Shona and Nathan stood together, holding hands. Mr. Turner’s arms were crossed, his head down. He looked older than ever, hunched and frail despite his height. Rita was half-turned, as if she’d started to leave then changed her mind.

“Hey, guys,” Melanie snapped, clapping her hands. “There’s nothing more to see here. We’re leaving the factory.”

“But…but that’s Nathan’s mom,” Shona said, holding up his hand, as if to remind Melanie who he was. “Is he just supposed to run away from his only surviving parent?”

Only surviving parent. That comment made Melanie wince. The killer of Nathan’s father was right inside the room, and while Nathan had never said anything about it, or expressed any hostility toward Lizzy, the truth hung there in the air like an unseen poison.

“Maybe he can talk to her,” Shona said. “Maybe if she sees he’s okay, she’ll leave us alone. Nathan?”

But Nathan lurched away from her suddenly, pulling his hand out of his grasp. This shocked her, and Shona gasped. “No, I’m not going out there,” he said. “I already told you that. No way! I don’t want anything to do with Grandpa’s militia. They’re bullies. Mean to me, mean to each other, mean to everyone. I won’t go!” He started across the room, pushing past Rita. “Mom won’t be satisfied with a hug and a hearty hello, trust me. She brought the militia with her. I want out of here. I’m going with you.” He pointed at Melanie. “I don’t care if it’s weird that I’m running away from my own mother to stay with you people. I don’t care!”

“It’s not weird,” Melanie said. “Believe me, I understand how you feel. Come on. All of you.”

Rita shrugged and followed Nathan across the room. Only Shona hesitated, still standing at the window. It was clear her feelings were hurt, but Nathan was in the midst of boyish obliviousness. Now was not the time to try to smooth things over between them.

“Shona,” Melanie snapped. “Let’s go!”

Her daughter briefly bared her teeth, then sniffed loudly, and strode away from the window. Melanie turned and led the group out of the conference room and down the stairs. On the way, Mark detoured to the office and soon returned with a full backpack dangling from his uninjured shoulder. As she reached the bottom step, Melanie glanced back to make sure everyone was following. Lizzy and her father were right behind her, sticking so close they practically ran into her. Rita and Nathan came next, with a rather forlorn-looking Shona behind them. Mark brought up the rear, lugging the backpack. Finally, a reluctant Dusty padded after them, but the poor dog seemed nervous, as if unsure what horrible adventure the humans would drag her into next.

At the supply closet, Mr. Turner grabbed the handle of the small weapon cart and began pushing it, as Rita snagged the big duffel bag and hoisted it over her shoulder. Melanie led them through the double doors into the factory floor. Now that they were actually leaving, her body surged with adrenaline so that the moment took on a sharp hyperrealism.

“We’re going through the unfinished drainpipe?” Lizzy asked, as they descended the ramp into the vast dimness of the production area. The scent of snack cakes that had one saturated the place was long gone, but Melanie thought she could still catch a faint whiff of tear gas.

“The drainpipe is the only option,” Melanie replied, turning at the bottom of the ramp and heading under the walkway. “It’s the only way to get past the wall without being seen.”

“We sealed the opening,” Lizzy reminded her.

“Not permanently,” Melanie said. Ahead, in the shadows, she saw the door that led to the old drainpipe. The pallet jack was sitting there with the generator and fuel stacked on top.

“Nathan, I’m sorry, but I don’t think the generator is coming with us,” Melanie said. “It’s just too big and heavy.”

“I don’t care,” Nathan replied. “Can we hurry up and go? I don’t want to be here when the militia gets inside. I don’t want her to see me.”

“We’re working on it.”

Melanie opened the door and reached inside, fumbling around until she felt the edge of a small shelf on the wall. She grabbed one of the flashlights that she’d left there and clicked it on, shining it into the closet before her. It was mostly a bare space, unfinished, with about half the floor ripped up. In the space beneath the floor, a deep pit had been dug that led to a drainpipe approximately four feet in diameter. The factory had been in the process of installing it as a way to deal with an ongoing drainage problem, but the project remained unfinished. Once upon a time, Melanie and the others had used it as a way to get back inside the factory. Now, it would be their way out.

As she shone the light over it, Melanie saw the crude cap that they’d put in place to block the hole. Formed of a large piece of scrap metal, it was held in place by means of four bent metal rods that were welded to the outside of the pipe. Melanie hadn’t attached the cover permanently to the pipe entrance for just this reason.

“Okay, we have to get the lid off that thing as fast as possible,” she said, entering the closet to make room for the others.

“That’ll take a minute,” Rita said, squeezing in behind her.

“Then let’s get to work,” Melanie said. “Where are the tools?”

Rita flung her duffel bag into the dirt pit and climbed down after it. As Mr. Turner and Nathan entered the closet, she proceeded to unzip the bag and root around inside. After a moment, she produced a claw hammer.

“If I can unbend one of the rods, I can probably slide the cap out of the way of the pipe,” she said, kneeling in front of the drain cover. “It’s a shame to undo all of my beautiful hard work.”

It was clearly a joke, but Melanie was already on edge so it annoyed her far more than it should have. She fought an urge to respond with something biting. At least Rita was already working on it. She could grumble all she wanted as long as she did her job. She worked the claws of the hammer under the bent rod and began rocking it back and forth, the metal creaking.

“This isn’t as easy as it looks,” Rita said. “I might have done too good of a job installing the cover.”

“Please, just hurry,” Melanie replied.

Mr. Turner pushed the handcart into the room and began passing out weapons: a rifle and a holstered handgun for each person. Since Shona and Mark were right behind him, they got their weapons first. Shona wasn’t ready, and she fumbled her rifle, almost dropping it. She just managed to catch the strap before it hit the floor.

Since Melanie already had the Weatherby over her shoulder, Mr. Turner handed her only a Glock 19 in a plastic holster. Melanie was wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a cotton jacket, so she had no place to clip the holster. Instead, it went into the pocket of her jacket.

Since Rita was working on the drain cover, her weapons were laid on the floor beside the big dirt pit. She got an AR-15 and a .38 pistol. Rita acknowledged them with a little nod and resumed working on removing the cover.

“We should have built a hinged door with a lock,” Melanie muttered. “It would have been easier to remove.”

“Yeah, from both sides,” Rita replied. “But it’s coming along. Give me another minute or two, and I’ll have it.” She grunted as she tried to maneuver for more leverage.

“A minute or two?” Melanie grumbled. “Let’s hope we have that much time.”

The explosion was unusually loud, rattling the walls and trembling in the floor. The closet door swung back and hit the wall, and dust rained down from the ceiling. Mr. Turner lost his balance and went down on one knee, and Melanie thrust an arm out to shield Shona. Dusty retreated into a dark corner of the closet with a yelp. The metallic thud echoed for a while, rattling around the high ceiling of the factory floor.

“Are they shelling the building?” Lizzy said.

Indeed, Melanie could see it in her mind’s eye, smoke pouring from the tank turret, the front of the building collapsing in a burning heap. But, no, the explosion hadn’t been that strong. A tank shell would almost certainly have brought the whole frail heap down upon itself.

“That came from the front of the building,” she said. “I’ll bet they just blasted the front door open.” She fumbled in her jacket pocket for a few seconds and finally got the Glock out of its holster. “How much longer, Rita? We really need you to hurry up.”

“I need another minute,” Rita said. “I’m going as fast as I can here, but I need just a little more time.”

Melanie took a deep breath, trying to steel herself for what she knew they had to do next. Finally, she pointed at Shona.

“Shona, get down there and help Rita,” she said. “Grab a tool, anything you can find, and help her get that damned cover off the pipe.” Before her daughter could move to obey her, Melanie flicked a hand at Mark, at Mr. Turner, and Lizzy. “You three, come with me. Grab one of your weapons and be ready to use it.”

She pushed past Mark and Mr. Turner, headed for the closet door. In passing, she handed the flashlight to Shona.

“Wait, what are we doing?” Mark said, struggling to get the Remington 700 off his shoulder.

“We’re going to buy Rita time to get that drainpipe open,” Melanie said.

She didn’t want to give any of them, including herself, time to chicken out, so she hurried out of the closet and headed up the ramp, moving low with the Glock thrust out in front of her. At first, she wasn’t sure if any of the others had followed her. Maybe they were still trying to figure out if she’d lost her mind. But then Mr. Turner appeared at her side, moving in a crouch. He’d grabbed the AR-15.

He didn’t question the decision to fight back, which she appreciated. As she reached the top of the ramp, she saw Mark and Nathan coming up behind them. They seemed a bit more reluctant, but they followed without complaint. Mark had the Remington rifle, and Nathan held a Beretta PX4.

“Nathan, what are you doing?” she asked. “I thought you didn’t want to see your mom. You can stay here.”

“I want to help keep them out, if I can,” he said. “Long enough to open our escape, at least. But we won’t hold them off for long. Mom’s not a coward, and the militia will follow her lead.”

“Rita just needs a minute,” Melanie said, “so let’s give her a minute. We don’t have to defeat the militia. We just have to delay them somehow.”

Mark looked like he wanted to say something. Maybe to complain. Maybe to tell his wife she’d become unreasonable. But no words came out. Melanie let it lie. As she approached the double doors above the ramp, she smelled smoke mingled with other things—possibly charred metal and melted plastic. She pushed through the doors. Here the smoke lingered near the ceiling, and a strange light shone down the hall around the corner.

With Mr. Turner at her side, she dashed across the alcove and pressed herself up against the wall, sliding toward the corner. She could hear movement coming from down the hall. Boots on the floor, the softer clink and clank of rubble falling. Holding her breath, she whipped around the corner, aiming the Glock down the long hallway. Mr. Turner sidestepped past her shoulder and raised the AR-15.

Smoke was heavy in the break room at the end of the hall, sunlight shining through in ever-shifting rays. As Melanie crept down the hall, she saw a heap of debris in the doorway, and she realized it was the pieces of their dinner table and chairs. They’d been blasted out of place. Someone behind her—either Nathan or Mark—started to say something, but she held up her free hand to silence them.

As she approached the door, the smoke parted a bit, and she saw char marks on the break room walls, sunlight coming from the reception area. She ducked beneath the pile of debris, using the large, broken pieces of the table for cover. Indeed, the militia had blasted open the front of the building. Even if it wasn’t a tank shell, they’d clearly used something powerful enough to rip the door open and fling it off its hinges.

Mr. Turner got down low, almost lying on the floor, and aimed his rifle through a gap in the debris pile. Then Lizzy came up and squeezed between him and Melanie.

“Do we open fire as soon as they appear?” she asked.

Melanie shook her head. “No, wait until we’re sure we have some advantage. Otherwise, we might get ripped to shreds under a hail of bullets.”

“What sort of advantage are we looking for here?” Mark said from behind her shoulder.

“Not sure,” Melanie said. “I’ll know it when I see it. As soon as I open fire, join me. We’ll try to drive them back, force a retreat, then run back to the closet and escape.”

“This seems reckless, dear,” Mark said. “What if we never see the opening we’re looking for?”

“I know it does, but I just have to trust my gut right now, okay?”

Mark nodded silently.

A big toolbox had been sitting in a corner of the room, but it was tipped over by the blast, the lid open and tools spilled on the floor. Behind it, the tanks of the acetylene welding torch were lying on their sides. Rita had been making repairs to the front of the building, and the tools were left there as a result. At the moment, Melanie thought they were quite lucky that neither of the tanks had ruptured in the explosion.

Then again, maybe it would have provided us cover for our escape, she thought.

Suddenly, a shadow moved in the midst of the smoke. One shape became two, then three, shapes striding across the reception area. They emerged from the smoke, casting long shadows across the break room. Sue Ellen walked a step ahead of two men, striding into the room like she owned the place. Her handgun was out, aimed at the floor—a sleek, black pistol that Melanie thought might’ve been a SIG Sauer M17.

Up close, Sue Ellen looked tougher and more hard-edged, with coarse skin and rough hands. The men just behind her were armed with rifles, one of which seemed to have some kind of folding stock. Other shapes moved in the smoke, many of them, though it was impossible to tell how many. Fortunately, the debris pile in the doorway and the deep shadows in the hallway gave Melanie and her group plenty of cover, but just in case, she ducked down a little lower.

Sue Ellen stopped in the middle of the room and turned to the men behind her. They all seemed to be surveying the room, perhaps gauging the damage they’d done. Melanie felt someone tap on her arm and turned to see Lizzy giving her a questioning look, as if to say, “What do we do now? Do we open fire?” Melanie held up a finger to tell her to wait.

Melanie glanced at the torch tanks in the corner. Propane and oxygen. Would a bullet pierce the side? She wasn’t sure. Maybe if she hit the cap of the oxygen tank. That would cause some kind of distraction, maybe drive the invaders out of the room for a bit. Was it enough?

“People have been here recently,” Sue Ellen said. Her voice was surprisingly soft for all of her hard edges.

“What do we do if your son isn’t here?” The man to her right spoke. He was a grizzled, older gentleman with a short gray beard, prominent forehead, and a nose that had clearly been broken a few times in his life.

Sue Ellen swiped her free hand at him. “He’s here, Andrew. He’s here. Derrick didn’t spend all of his time preparing for the end of the world not to make sure Nathan was here with him. We knocked the door down a little harder than was necessary, so we may have spooked them. We’ll probably find them hiding somewhere.”

The one named Andrew was holding the megaphone in his hand, and he passed it to her now. She raised it to her mouth, tipped her head back, and pulled the trigger.

“Nathan! Nathan Platt!” Her voice was deafening in the small room, and Melanie winced.

More men were coming into the room, marching in pairs. Melanie could see the building quickly being overrun. Somehow, she had to buy them time. At the moment, her Glock was pointed at the oxygen tank, but she wasn’t sure she could hit the small target. Her aim was only decent at best, and there was a lot of smoke and debris in the way.

So, she did the only other thing she could think of. She cleared her throat loudly and responded.

“Derrick Platt is dead. This place does not belong to him any longer. You are trespassing. You should leave!”

She heard the others shifting anxiously around her. Nathan sucked in his breath, and Lizzy dropped flat against the floor. Mr. Turner cursed under his breath. The militia, on the other hand, reacted quite calmly, as if the sound of Melanie’s voice hadn’t surprised them. Sue Ellen turned toward the door. She started to raise her gun, then seemed to reconsider and lowered it again.

“That’s too bad about Derrick,” she said, speaking in a calm, contained voice. She wasn’t looking directly at them, so clearly, she couldn’t see through the smoke and shadows. “But I’m not here for him. I’m here for my son.”

Melanie turned to Mark, who was crouched behind her. With a bobble of her head, she signaled for him to retreat back down the hall. She made the same gesture at Lizzy. Mark shook his head, and Lizzy didn’t move.

One of the other militiamen moved up behind Sue Ellen’s shoulder, raising his rifle partway. It was an AK-47 with some kind of writing in white paint along the side. Melanie could see a few of the phrases: You’re screwed. My freedom, your life. New nation.

“Steady, Clint,” Sue Ellen said. The woman was remarkably calm, practically emotionless.

“Leave the building immediately, and we can negotiate,” Melanie said.

“No, I don’t think we need to negotiate,” Sue Ellen said with a small smile. “You haven’t denied the presence of my son, so I’ll take that as confirmation. Send him to me now.”

Melanie was trying to take aim at the oxygen tank when Nathan suddenly uttered a loud huff and pushed himself off the floor. Before she could stop him, he rose above the debris pile, smoke swirling around him and parting to reveal him to the militia.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice quavering.

The one named Clint took a step forward and aimed the AK-47 at him, barking, “Freeze! Don’t you dare move!”

At this, Sue Ellen rolled her eyes and, moving so fast that Melanie scarcely saw it happen, she raised her handgun, pointing it at the back of Clint’s head, and pulled the trigger. She did it swiftly, with no hesitation. Her own man took a stumbling step forward, dropping the rifle at his feet. The bullet had entered the back of his head and came out his left cheek, taking much of his face with it. Still, somehow, he managed to remain standing for about three seconds before he collapsed in a heap. The other militiamen, including the grizzled Andrew, watched this occur with nearly blank expressions, as if it were routine.

“How dare you point a weapon at my son,” Sue Ellen said, still aiming her pistol at the crumpled figure. Then she suddenly smiled brightly, a switch of emotion so quick and complete that it took Melanie’s breath away. “Nathan! There’s my baby! I knew you were in here somewhere. Still hiding in the corner, I see. Nothing has changed.”

Nathan shook his head. “I’m not hiding! I don’t want to be your baby, and I don’t want to join the militia.” His arms were wrapped tightly around his stomach, his gun dangling awkwardly from one hand. The poor kid looked like he was about to vomit.

Sue Ellen clucked her tongue loudly and turned to Andrew. “Did you hear what he just said? Can you believe my very own baby would say that to me, Andrew? I knew his father was brainwashing him. I just knew it.”

“It’s a shame,” Andrew replied, “but we can fix him up.”

There were at least half a dozen men crowded in behind Sue Ellen and Andrew, possibly many more in the reception room beyond. Sue Ellen’s smile disappeared as she turned back to her son, beckoning him with the megaphone. In that moment, Melanie felt the tension in the air building.

If you’re going to do something, now’s the time, she told herself.

Nathan and Sue Ellen were quietly regarding each other now, as she continued to beckon him. Melanie, hoping that she was still hidden by the smoke and shadows, aimed her pistol at the cap of the oxygen tank, shutting one eye to line up the shot. Sue Ellen had just started to speak again—she got out the first little sound—when Melanie pulled the trigger.

7

The first shot missed. Melanie saw sparks as the bullet hit the side of the tank and ricocheted off the metal surface into the wall beyond. However, she scarcely had time to care as the surge of adrenaline ensured that she kept pulling the trigger. The second bullet was a bullseye, hitting just above the threads of the oxygen tank’s regulator. It caused a rupture, and the consequences were swift and more extreme that she expected. The contents of the can burst out in a violent explosion, producing an earsplitting hiss. The tank launched like a rocket, scattering debris as it went. Because of the angle, it was pointed toward the doorway into the reception area.

Sue Ellen and her men were forced to scramble, some ducking, others running for cover, as the makeshift missile flew toward them, but the burst of oxygen from the tank soon filled the room with white steam. Melanie felt the fierce blast on her face. It hit the debris pile and knocked some items over, which made Lizzy and Mr. Turner scramble backward. However, Melanie held her ground, shifting the gun a few inches to the right.

As the militia screamed and scrambled, the oxygen tank slammed into the wall just beyond the door of the reception area. It punctured the insulation and embedded itself deeply, the power of the impact causing some of the upper wall and roof to collapse.

Melanie could still see the propane tank through the curtain of smoke and steam. She aimed for the regulator as best she could and resumed firing. The first bullets missed the tank entirely. She heard them hitting the wall, the floor, the ceiling. And then she got a bullseye. The propane tank erupted with a boom and a furious curtain of red flames quickly spread out across the far wall and licked up toward the ceiling. The force of the explosion shoved pieces from the debris pile into Melanie. She felt heat against her face, then something hard fell against the top of her head, and she saw stars.

“Quick! Run through the flames!” Sue Ellen’s voice. She had spoken softly before, but her voice was sharp as a blade now, cutting through the roar of flames and the crashing of debris. “Run through the flames to the hallway! Get my son. Hurry!”

Melanie pushed herself backward and felt large pieces of the table and chairs falling off her shoulders and back. She tried to warn the others, to tell them to flee, but she began coughing uncontrollably. Suddenly, hands seized her legs, and she was yanked backward. In the process, she dropped the Glock. She tried to grab it, but she was being moved too fast.

When she looked back, she saw Mr. Turner holding her ankles, dragging her down the hall. It was an impressive display of adrenaline-driven strength for someone who had recently been so frail. Lizzy and Nathan were both running away, heading to the far corner as fast as they could move. Once Melanie was about halfway down the hall, Mr. Turner dropped her ankles, turned, and stretched out his hand. Melanie grabbed it, and she was promptly hoisted to her feet.

Damn, Pop is stronger than I realized, she thought. I’ve never been flung around so effortlessly.

Only then did she realize Mark was at her side. He put an arm around her shoulders, both leaning on her and helping her down the hall. As they went, Mr. Turner shifted to one side, moving backward and aiming his rifle toward the break room.

“Just run through the flames,” Sue Ellen screamed again. “Follow Andrew’s lead! The fire won’t catch if you move fast enough.”

Rita fired her .38 pistol. The bang was so loud, it pierced right through Melanie’s skull, and her left ear began to buzz.

Will I have any hearing left when all of these gun battles are over? she wondered.

“Don’t follow Andrew’s lead,” Mr. Turner shouted back toward the break room. “Don’t run through the flames! There’s a crazy old man with a rifle on the other side!” And, as if to prove the point, he fired a shot with his AR-15 in their direction.

Melanie sensed the angry flames burning brightly over her shoulder. Red light danced on the walls to her left and right. She didn’t bother looking back, only kept moving as fast as she could to reach the end of the hall. She had just turned the corner when she heard the crack of rifles coming from the break room. Mr. Turner fell past her, landing on the floor near the bottom of the stairs and doing an awkward somersault over his left shoulder.

Grunting in pain, he picked himself up. “I felt that bullet go right past my face.”

“Pop, you can’t take a fall like that,” Melanie said. “Be careful!”

“Fortunately, I won’t feel it until later,” he said.

He rubbed a hand over his face, shook his head, then shuffled toward the double doors into the factory floor. Lizzy and Nathan were already there, holding the doors open and waving the others through. Melanie heard a few more shots coming from the hallway, bullets hitting the walls and floors nearby.

“Get to the drainpipe,” Melanie said. “We have to leave the building!”

As soon as she passed through the double doors, Lizzy and Nathan let them swing shut. They all stumbled down the ramp together, Mr. Turner in the lead, limping slightly as if the somersault had hurt him. Melanie felt pain on the top of her head, and when she dug her fingers through her hair, she felt a small welt forming. It didn’t matter. A small bump on the head was nothing. Mark still had his arm around her, but it was actually hindering her at the moment. She gently disentangled herself and nudged him past her.

“That was incredible, by the way,” Mark said, giving Melanie a big thumbs-up as she headed around the corner and under the walkway. “You blew the hell out of that room.”

“It won’t mean a thing if we don’t get out of this factory,” Melanie replied, waving him on ahead.

She saw a shifting flashlight beam moving around the closet, and as she drew near, she heard the sound of metal against metal. Her heart sank. Rita was still working on getting that damned cover off the pipe. When she stepped through the door, her fear was confirmed. A cursory examination revealed that Rita had successfully unbent one of the locking rods, but apparently, it hadn’t been enough to slide the cover off. Now, she was working with Shona to get the second rod unbent. Rita had the claw hammer, and Shona had a small crowbar.

Nathan was standing off to one side, looking deeply disturbed. His arms were crossed, hands grasping his upper arms. He had sweat tracks through the dust on his face.

“Nathan, are you okay?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I just want to leave. Mom is worse than I feared.”

Melanie turned to the pit, where Shona and Rita were hard at work. “What about it, Rita? What’s our ETA here? I was hoping you would have the pipe open by now.”

“I’m working as fast as I can, boss,” she said, speaking through clenched teeth. “Feel free to dock my pay if my job performance isn’t satisfactory.”

“How much longer?” Melanie asked, ignoring the sarcasm.

“I don’t know. Another minute. Maybe less if you’ll stop asking me questions.”

Grunting in frustration, Melanie turned away. Mark and Mr. Turner were standing behind her. From elsewhere in the building, she heard the faint echo of angry voices, then some kind of thud or bang. Even from this distance, she could tell that one of the voices was Sue Ellen. Apparently, they’d made it through the flames.

“We’re out of time,” Melanie said. “It won’t take them long to figure out where we went.”

“We can take the back door, if we have to,” Mark said.

“That gets us to the parking lot but not over the wall,” Melanie replied. “We need that drainpipe open. It’s the only safe way out of here.”

At that moment, she heard Sue Ellen again, barking orders. Actually, it sounded like she was screaming. Her shrill voice moved through walls and doors. Melanie pulled the rifle off her shoulder. In the stress of the moment, she racked it and sent a bullet flying.

“What are you doing, Mel?” Mark asked.

“If they find us in this closet, we’re dead,” she replied. “We’ll be cut to shreds under a hail of bullets. We need to keep them away.” Holding the rifle, she stepped out of the closet.

She made her way to the bottom of the ramp and crouched behind the handrail, aiming up through the gaps at the double doors above. Mark appeared beside her, dropping on one knee and raising his gun to aim with her. The broad metal doors were dingy and dented. They’d been through quite a bit in the last few weeks. Somewhere on the other side, Sue Ellen continued to shout at her men, but Melanie couldn’t tell how close they were. Her heart was pounding in her throat, in her temples, in the welt on top of her head.

She heard boots in the hallway. How many? She couldn’t be sure.

“As soon as they come through those doors, I’m going to start shooting and not stop,” Melanie said. “We have to buy the others as much time as we can.”

“I’m right here with you,” Mark replied, “whatever happens.”

“Shona needs you more,” Melanie said. “You should stay by her side.”

“You’re not facing these people alone, dear. We’ll drive them back if we can. And if we can’t, we’ll take out as many as possible.”

Melanie sighed. This was not the time to argue. She sighted her weapon, pointing it at the crack between the doors. She heard gunshots from the hallway and what might have been a door slamming against a wall.

They’re checking the office doors, she thought, but they’re close to this end of the hall. It won’t be long now.

A sudden echoing clang startled her, and she almost pulled the trigger. Her finger brushed the edge, and she held her breath. The sound had come from behind her, not above. Rita gave a little whoop—too loud. Melanie wanted to shush her, but she didn’t dare add to the noise.

“The cover is off,” Rita said. “The way out of here is open!”

Melanie immediately backed away from the handrail, turned, and rushed back toward the closet. As she did, she fumbled to get the rifle strap over her shoulder. Mark came with her, almost dropping his gun as well. Inside the closet, the others were crowded around the now-open entrance to the drainpipe, Rita shining a light down the four-foot passage.

“Get in there,” Melanie hissed, waving her hands as she came through the closet door. “Go, go, go! What are you waiting for?”

As soon as Mark was in the closet, Melanie stumbled to a stop and grabbed the closet door. She swung it shut, but just before it clicked home, she heard the bang of the double doors above being kicked open. Sue Ellen shouted from the walkway, which was almost directly above them.

“They’re in here somewhere,” she said. “Search every nook and cranny. Root them out! Kill anyone who is not my Nathan!”

Shona was the first into the drainpipe, waved through by Rita. She had the flashlight with her, but as soon as she was out of the room, she clicked it off, plunging them all into near-darkness. Only a hint of sunlight seeped into the closet from the far distant opening in the field.

“Move quietly,” Melanie whispered. “They’re close now.”

She reached back and felt for the closet doorknob. When she found it, she turned the lock, then picked her way down into the ditch. Directly in front of her, Nathan was duckwalking into the pipe, holding tightly to Dusty’s collar to get the dog to come with them.

First Nathan’s father. Now his mother. The poor kid was remarkably sane for having come from such a troubled family.

Melanie was last into the pipe. As she passed through the entrance, one of the hard bolts brushed against her shoulder. She felt around until she found the makeshift drain cover, then she pulled it into place behind her. It wouldn’t physically keep anyone out, but it might buy them a second or two if Sue Ellen and her men came into the closet. Any additional time would do.

Then she turned and fled down the pipe.

8

Melanie expected to feel despair as soon as she came out the end of the drainpipe. Despair at leaving the home she’d fought so hard to protect. However, the first touch of cool evening air on her face filled her with hope and swept away some of the terror of the attack. Somehow, the factory that had been their home had become a deathtrap, and at that moment, it occurred to her just how close they’d all come to getting killed. And by Nathan’s mother, of all people.

Ahead, she saw her loved ones fanning out into the overgrown field, staying low to hide themselves in the tall grass. The end of the pipe was well hidden in a pit that was surrounded by weeds, so when she crept out into the open, she couldn’t see much of their surroundings. The sky overhead was a warm, rather lovely shade of dark blue.

Mr. Turner was sitting down, massaging his ankle. Lizzy knelt beside her father, and Rita was lying on her back, her hands tucked behind her head, as if she had done her job and now intended to rest here for a while. Shona and Nathan usually stuck close to each other, but they were on opposite sides of the pit. Clearly, there was still a bit of a rift between them. Between the two, Dusty had chosen Nathan, and Melanie wondered if that stung Shona as well.

“We need to keep moving,” Melanie said. “The militia will break into the closet sooner or later and find the drainpipe. By the time that happens, we need to be really far away from here.”

“Why don’t we just wait for them?” Rita asked, patting the rifle which was lying in the grass beside her. “That tunnel is narrow. We could pick them off one at a time until we block the exit with their bodies.”

“They will return fire,” Melanie replied, “and they might coordinate with the soldiers outside of the factory, who could flank us while we’re fighting. It’s a risk I don’t want to take. I’d much rather flee.”

She crawled past the others, working her way up the side of the ditch. She heard the low rumbling of vehicles in the distance. Slowly, Melanie raised her head out of the ditch, gazing through the long, swaying weeds.

“Be careful, honey,” Mark said. “Don’t make yourself a target for a sniper.”

“I have to see where we are,” she replied, “so we can get out of this pit. You guys keep your guns trained on the pipe. Give me a minute to see what’s out there.”

She heard the click and clank of rifles being shifted and pointed toward the pipe exit. As she raised her head, she was looking in the direction of the distant shopping center with its many burned-out buildings. The auto body shop stood on a hill nearby—one of the only fully intact buildings in that direction. Under the circumstances, it seemed very far away. There was another ditch about ten yards away in that direction. She could see the shadows there, inviting them to hide there. It would get them closer to the building, at least.

“Okay, we’re making a run for it,” Melanie said over her shoulder.

“A run for where?” Lizzy replied.

“The auto body shop,” she said. “At least for now. Then we’ll figure out our next step.”

She looked left and right. The nearby access road was quiet—no moving vehicles or people there. A haze of smoke lingered above the factory wall on the east side, but she couldn’t see what the militia was doing.

“Get ready to run,” Melanie said. “We’re going to dash across the field to the next ditch and drop down again. Ready?”

She looked at the people behind and below her. Wide eyes stared back in the evening gloom. Rita and Mr. Turner had their rifles pointed toward the drainpipe. Nathan was bent over, looking thoroughly miserable.

“We’re not safe yet, friends,” Melanie said. “Getting out of the building was important, but we have a long way to go before we can rest. Push through the sadness, tiredness, whatever you’re feeling, okay? Come on.”

She could only hope her words had taken root. Bounding up, Melanie lunged out of the pit and took off running across the field. She tried to stay low, using the wild grass as cover, but she knew it was still a risk. Anyone looking from above would see shapes in the field. Ragged breathing and wild footsteps told her that the others were following, but she didn’t look back.

Once she reached the ditch, she dropped to her hands and knees and scrambled down into the shadows. Finally, she rolled onto her back and came to a stop. Lizzy and Mark appeared above her, stumbling down the slope. Mark almost trampled her, forcing her to scramble backward.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispered, dropping to his knees. “Once you get going really fast, it’s hard to stop.”

Nathan and Shona came next, one after the other. Shona dropped too soon and rolled into the ditch, but Nathan had so much momentum that it carried him across the ditch until he slammed into the far slope with a huff. Dusty appeared then, as well, slinking deep beneath the high grass. Rita and Mr. Turner came last. He was limping slightly, and she was sidestepping, her gun pointed back the way they’d come.

“Did anyone see you?” Melanie asked. “Were we followed?”

“I don’t think so,” Rita replied, dabbing her forehead and cheeks on her sleeve. “I didn’t hear them coming through the pipe at all. Seems like we’re in the clear.”

“Not yet,” Melanie replied, pushing herself to her hands and knees. “We’ll have to make another run to get out of this field. Everyone stay low. I’m going to take a look.”

As she crept up the slope, Rita started to follow her, but Melanie waved her back.

“I could give you some covering fire, if it comes to that,” Rita said.

Melanie pressed a finger to her lips, and Rita dropped back. Then slowly, inch by inch, she raised her head above the ditch and peered back toward the factory.

“But where are we going to go, Mel?” Mark asked. He had moved over to Shona and put his arm around her. At least someone was comforting her. “After the auto body shop, I mean.”

“We’re getting away from Sue Ellen and the Wolverines,” Melanie replied. “That means we keep going until they don’t know how to find us. Now, keep it down.”

The factory looked quite breathtaking with the setting sun burning through the smoke-haze above the wall. Melanie felt the first real pang of regret at leaving.

No sense crying about it, she told herself.

She was far enough from the factory wall now that she could see the back of the M1 tank sticking out of the open gate. A pair of Humvees were parked behind it, but she didn’t see any of the men moving there. Indeed, the factory grounds seemed deceptively peaceful.

Movement drew her eye to the access road. One of the Jeeps was headed southeast toward the burned-out shopping center. Melanie ducked down lower. She could see men inside the vehicle. As she watched them, she realized there were other vehicles parked in the corners of the shopping center’s main lot. Her heart sank. Indeed, she watched as the final Jeep turned and headed up the road alongside the shopping center and pulled into the circular driveway in front of the auto body shop.

“What are they doing?” Rita asked. At some point, she’d come up beside Melanie again and was peering into the distance.

“Setting up a perimeter, I assume,” Melanie replied. “Making sure no one can go in or out of the area without being seen.”

She dropped back down into the ditch and pulled Rita after her. Then she rolled onto her back to face the others. Mark sat with his arm around Shona, the poor girl looking thoroughly miserable and scared. Nathan lay on his back, one arm over his face.

“We can’t just sit here in this field,” Mark said. “How do we get past them?”

“Well, they’ve cut off our escape,” Melanie said. “The auto body shop is no longer an option. We’ll have to figure out something else.”

“So, we turn westward and keep running across the field,” Rita said. “It’ll lead somewhere eventually, won’t it? There must be a neighborhood in that direction.”

“If we do that, we run the risk of being shot in the back,” Melanie said. “No, we need to get past their perimeter guards. If we can’t sneak past them, we’ll have to charge through.”

“Charge through?” Mark said. “You can’t be serious.”

“The charge of the light brigade,” Rita said with a laugh. “Tennyson. I had to memorize that poem in high school. ‘Stormed at with shot and shell, boldly they rode and well, into the jaws of Death, into the mouth of hell rode the six hundred.’”

“It’s not the same. For one thing, we’re not charging on horseback,” Melanie said. Her gaze returned to the front of the factory, to the gate, where the smoke still lingered most heavily. “Pop, tell me something, do you remember how to drive a tank? I know it’s been a while.”

She looked back at him. Mr. Turner’s mouth was hanging open, eyes wide.

“Can you drive that M1?” she asked again. “And could we all fit inside?”

He stuttered for a moment, as if struggling to come up with an answer. Clearly, her suggestion scared him. “It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we could fit in there, yes. Can I drive it? I think so. That is to say, I used to know how. In theory, if I was sitting in the driver’s seat again, it might all come back to me. But, Mel…”

“Oh my God, Mel,” Lizzy said, in a little squeak of a voice. “Are you suggesting we steal that tank?”

“I’m not suggesting,” Melanie replied. “I’m saying it’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to commandeer that tank and charge the perimeter.”

9

For a few seconds, no one said anything. Lizzy gave her a little smirk, like she thought her best friend had lost her mind. Shona shook her head, then buried her face in her hands. Mark and Mr. Turner frowned, and Rita uttered a little laugh.

“This is what we’re doing,” Melanie said.

“We’re running back to the factory and stealing their tank,” Lizzy said. “And somehow that’s better than running across the field to the west.”

Melanie nodded. “Correct. We’ll wait a few minutes, so we have more darkness to make our approach, but we can’t linger here too long. Sue Ellen will eventually find the pipe and realize that her baby boy isn’t hiding in the factory.”

“Why not just charge the shopping center with guns blazing?” Rita said. “We’re well-armed. The hail of bullets would force them to take cover.”

“Because again, that puts us out in the open and on foot with no cover,” Melanie said. “We’re stealing that tank, so you all have a few minutes to get used to the idea.” She peered back in the direction of the factory. The tank was thrust out beyond the gate. All of the other vehicles were gone now. She assumed they’d taken up positions beyond the wall on the other side. “Be ready to move as soon as I say so. We’ll have to do this fast before they catch on.”

“When she figures out I’m gone, she’ll go nuts,” Nathan said. “The fact that my kidnappers managed to get out of the factory is going to enrage her. She might just start scorching everything in sight. You saw how she killed her own soldier.”

“Yeah, I get that, Nathan,” Melanie replied. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting if you want to steal that tank, you’d better do it now,” Nathan said. “We’d better be inside that tank and on our way before she figures out that we escaped.”

The sky was getting darker as the sun set, but it wasn’t enough. Melanie would have preferred the full cover of darkness. As it was, they still had the bright orange light filling much of the western horizon, casting long shadows across the field. Still, Nathan had a point, and he knew his mother best.

“Okay, fine,” Melanie said. “We’re going now. Everyone, stay low and move as quietly as possible. Follow my lead.”

She beckoned the others over her shoulder and rose out of the ditch. Hunched over, trying to stay below the level of the high grass, she cut back across the field, moving at an angle that would take them to the front of the factory wall and the gate. She dared a quick glance over her shoulder and saw the others following her: Mark and Rita first, then Shona and Nathan (still separated by a big gap), Dusty right behind them, with Lizzy and Mr. Turner bringing up the rear. With the backpack over his shoulders, Mark was too big of a target to stay hidden in the field, and the big duffel bag that Rita carried made far too much noise.

Well, we’re in it now, Melanie thought. Nothing to do but see it through to the bitter end.

They swung to the right of the pit where the drainpipe was located. As they did, Melanie thought she heard a faint echo of Sue Ellen’s shrill voice coming from inside the factory. Maybe the militia had found the locked closet door. Maybe they’d already broken through. That caused a little burst of fear, and Melanie rose, aiming the rifle before her, as she took off running at full speed.

The whole time, her skin crawled, fearing an attack from the shopping center. Someone looking back in the direction of the factory through a rifle scope would no doubt have seen the small figures cutting through the grass. And then what? If they got pinned down in the field, they were done for.

Surely, she won’t risk her son getting shot, Melanie thought. Surely not.

Then again, the woman had blasted her way through the front door of the factory without knowing if her son was nearby. As Melanie approached the factory wall, she looked back again to make sure everyone was with her. The group had spread out quite a bit in their approach. A limping Mr. Turner was a few yards back, struggling to duck and move at the same time. Lizzy stayed with him. Melanie motioned for them to hurry, but it did little good. He was going as fast as his aching leg would allow.

Once she reached the factory wall, Melanie pressed her back against it, then began sidestepping toward the front corner. She could hear the rumble of the tank’s idling engine. They’d left it running. That meant there was probably a crew inside, or at least a driver. Taking it was going to be tricky.

Mark came up beside her and pressed his back against the wall. Then Nathan and Shona. Putting a finger to her lips, Melanie kept moving toward the corner. She gazed back across the field, and she could see the other vehicles parked around the shopping center. They were mostly angled toward the access road, but the glare of sunlight on their windows made it impossible to see the people inside.

As soon as she reached the corner, she peeked around the edge, raising the rifle. The tank was parked halfway through the gate—clearly intended to prevent anyone from getting through. The tank was indeed idling. She could hear it clearly. There were no visible militiamen on this side of the gate, at least. As she watched, she sensed the others crowding around behind her. Her whole body thrummed with tension, fear, desperation at what they were about to do. When she glanced to her right, she saw Mark and Rita at her right shoulder. Rita had unzipped the duffel bag and was rooting around inside. After a moment, she produced a small cylinder. At first, Melanie thought it was tear gas, but then she realized it was smaller.

“Okay, don’t shoot unless you have to,” Melanie said. “We don’t want to draw attention until we have control of the tank.”

“Get the hatch open,” Rita said, “and I’ll drive the crew out without firing a shot. Trust me.”

Melanie nodded, then dashed around the corner. As she crossed the gap, she heard another yell that she was pretty sure was Sue Ellen’s voice, though it was just a directionless echo. As soon as Melanie reached the back of the tank, she boosted herself up onto the tread cover, then stepped onto the hull, trying to move as lightly as possible. Rita hoisted herself up beside her. She’d dumped the duffel bag on the ground so she could move stealthily, and she had the small cylinder clutched in both hands.

The driver’s hatch was on the front of the tank just in front of the turret. Melanie knew this because she’d seen it from the conference room window. There was another hatch on top of the turret, but she decided to go directly for the driver, even though that meant moving through the gate. Better to get the driver out of the tank before he could move it. Beckoning Rita, she crept forward. As she did, she heard Mark and Lizzy climbing up onto the tank behind her.

When she passed through the broken gate, Melanie saw the ragged hole where the factory’s front door had been. The militia had not only blasted the door out of its frame, but they’d taken a big chunk of the wall as well. Even now, smoke and flames could be seen through the gap, where debris filled much of what had been the reception area.

As soon as she was near the driver’s hatch, Melanie dropped down. The hatch had a large C-shaped handle. As she reached for it, Rita came up beside her and pulled the pin on the small object in her hand. She nodded, and Melanie yanked the handle. The hatch rose, revealing the shadowy interior of the tank. For one stark moment, Melanie found herself staring down into the shocked face of the tank driver. He had a nasty gray beard, a thick unibrow, and a scarred face. And then Rita tossed the object onto the man’s lap, and thick smoke began to fill the tank.

Smoke bomb. That’s what it was. It gushed up around Melanie, and she half-expected her eyes to start burning. Instead, she merely coughed as she backed away from the hatch. The driver began to sputter and curse. He rose from the thick column of smoke, trying to climb out of the hatch. Rita lunched forward, bringing her left arm down. She’d drawn her favorite wrench from the pocket of her uniform, and she slammed it into the back of the driver’s head. He flopped forward, banged into the hull, then slid down onto the parking lot to lie upon the broken pieces of the gate.

The other hatch opened then. Melanie rose to see a second man trying to scramble through the opening, chased by smoke as thick as soup. He was coughing and wheezing, clawing to get free. But Mark was right there, his rifle raised above his head. He brought the butt of the rifle down on the man’s head, bouncing his face against the turret. The man continued to struggle, but a second blow put a stop to that. He went limp, hanging half in, half out of the open hatch. Mark shouldered his rifle and used his strong arm to grab the man’s collar and drag him all the way out, flinging him to the ground outside the gate.

“Well, that got the men out,” Melanie said, “but now we’ve got a tank full of smoke.”

“Let’s cut it short,” Rita said. Covering her mouth and nose with her forearm, she reached down into the driver’s hatch, disappearing in the smoke. After a moment, she rose, the gushing smoke bomb in her hand. She tossed it to one side. “It’ll clear out a lot faster that way. Don’t worry, boss. The smoke’s not toxic. Just cover your mouth and nose and get in there.”

Everyone was on top of the tank now. Melanie saw them huddled together precariously around the back. She made eye contact with Mr. Turner and beckoned him, and he began picking his way toward her.

“I need you to drive this thing,” she said. “It’s still smoky in there, but we can’t wait.”

The smoke was quickly clearing out due to the hatches being on top, but it wasn’t going to be pleasant to climb down inside. Still, it couldn’t be helped. Melanie gestured toward the open driver’s hatch.

Just then, Rita elbowed her and pointed toward the second story of the factory. She gazed at the taut plastic sheet that covered the window and spotted movement on the other side. Two men were positioned there. She saw white faces, black hats, black shirts, thick beards.

“Get in the tank,” Melanie said sharply. “Everyone, get in the tank right now!”

Mr. Turner pulled himself down into the driver’s seat, coughing as residue of the smoke bomb enveloped him. Pulling her shirt collar over her nose and mouth, Lizzy went through the top hatch, clambering in awkwardly so that she dropped in upside down.

“They see us,” Rita said.

Melanie motioned for Rita to get into the tank as she turned back to the conference room window. Both of the militiamen were staring down at them, pointing and shouting. One of them raised a rifle. Melanie had her rifle in her right hand, and she took a wild shot toward the factory. The bullet hit the wall just to the right of the second-story window. This caused one of the militiamen to duck, bur the other one fired back. The bullet split the plastic sheet and hit the tank just a couple of feet from where Melanie was crouched.

Taking more careful aim, she fired a few more shots at the window. Meanwhile, Shona had pulled herself through the hatch, and Nathan was working on it. That left Mark and Rita out in the open. Melanie had to buy them more time.

The militiaman was quickly sidestepping, trying to find cover behind the window, but he took another shot down into the parking lot. Melanie heard it slice through the air somewhere above her.

“Get in that damned tank,” she shouted. “What are you waiting for?”

“They’re all in, boss,” Rita replied. “It’s your turn.”

Indeed, when Melanie looked back, she saw Rita’s head disappear through the hatch. Everyone was inside now, except for her. She rose, took another shot at the second-story window, then flung herself on top of the turret.

“It’s a real tight fit down here,” Lizzy said. “We’ll have to get real cozy.”

“That’s fine,” Melanie replied, pulling herself into the hatch. “Pop, get us out of here!”

As she lowered herself through the hatch, she felt bodies on all sides. Indeed, things were going to be a lot cozier than she’d expected. It was a small space, with a chair directly beneath the hatch, another to one side, and metal edges sticking out everywhere. The people had been forced to take up almost all of the available space, with Lizzy leaning against the central seat. This forced Melanie to squat, as she had nowhere to put her legs. To make matters worse, a haze of smoke filled the tank, and she had to cover her mouth and nose and shut her eyes.

“Pop, can you drive this thing or not?” she shouted.

“Yeah, I think I’ve got the hang of it,” Mr. Turner replied from elsewhere in the tank. “Brace yourselves, folks.”

And with that, the tank lurched backward, shoving Melanie against the metal framework around her seat. Her rifle was still in her right hand, and it banged against a metal support. Melanie tried to get the strap around her shoulder, but she was being violently jostled. Finally, she reached up, grabbed the inside handle of the top hatch, and pulled it shut.

“Oh, my gosh,” Lizzy said. “Guys, we just stole a tank!”

10

The rough ride meant people were constantly bumping into each other. It was dark inside the tank, except for the light seeping in through some narrow windows and a few lights shining on control panels and screens below. People kept shifting their bodies around, somehow trying to make the small space more suitable for so many. It was a bit like a game of Tetris. Suddenly, Mark was leaning into Melanie’s lap. Then he moved, and Lizzy was shoved against her ribs.

“I think I’m a little bit claustrophobic,” Shona said from somewhere in the tangle of bodies below. “How long do we have to be in here?”

“Shut your eyes and try not to think about it,” Melanie said. “Breathe slowly to keep from panicking. We’re in this for a while.”

“That’s not helpful, Mom.”

Melanie felt the tank swing to one side, turning, which pushed her into the framework again. She finally got the rifle strap over her shoulder, and she felt around for some kind of sturdy handholds. It felt like they’d reached the end of the factory’s entrance road and had backed onto the access road. The right tread rolled over something, and Melanie bounced in her seat.

“Well, we’ve stirred the hornets’ nest,” Mr. Turner said from the driver’s seat. “The guys at that shopping center are coming out to meet us.”

The tank was picking up speed. Just beneath the hatch above her, there was a series of narrow windows. Melanie raised herself up on the chair, inadvertently kicking Lizzy in the process, and peered through the thick glass.

“Try not to bump any of the equipment back there,” Mr. Turner said. “Crowd around the seats if you can and hold on tight. This might get a whole lot rougher.”

Melanie saw the access road stretching off to the southeast. At the distant shopping center, two Jeeps had pulled out of the parking lot, as if to block them.

“I don’t suppose anyone knows how to use the big gun,” Rita said. “I’m sitting here right in front of it, and there’s a stack of shells beside me, but I’m not sure how to load the thing.”

The Jeeps were joined by the Humvee from the auto body shop. All three took up positions across the road. A man hopped out of one of the Jeeps, holding a rifle, and immediately began to fire at the tank. Melanie heard the crack of the rifle, followed by the ping of bullets striking the tank’s hull. Max slowed the tank. However, in that moment, more vehicles came in from the side, bouncing wildly as they approached from the northwest and circled around the sides of the tank.

“Can this thing go any faster?” Melanie asked. “They’re trying to cut us off.”

“I don’t want to risk getting stuck on something or turning the tank over,” Mr. Turner responded. Mel could tell by the tightness in his voice that he was struggling.

More bullets pinged off the hull, creating a staccato rhythm that made Melanie’s skin crawl. She tried to look down and gauge where everyone was located. Lizzy was mostly blocking her view, with Mark squished into a space behind her. Rita was curled up on the gunner’s seat, with Shona and Nathan on either side of her. Shona had finally gotten Dusty to herself. She had her arms around the dog, who was trembling and whining.

The interior of the tank was incredibly loud. The rumble of the engine, the crunch of vehicles going under the treads, the hammering sound of the bullets, not to mention shouting voices on all sides. It was a hellish cacophony that made Melanie’s head pound. She felt her heartbeat in the welt on top of her head. And then, from outside the tank, she heard the bark of a megaphone and that sharp, shrill voice that cut through everything. It took a moment to spot the source through the narrow turret windows, but she finally saw Sue Ellen in the passenger seat of a nearby Humvee, the megaphone to her mouth as she passed the tank.

“Stop wasting bullets, you idiots,” she shouted. “You’re shooting at a tank, for God’s sake!”

The other vehicles had taken up positions across the road ahead, men standing between them with rifles.

“We can roll right over these people,” Melanie said. “Don’t they realize that? How do they expect to stop us?”

“Stealing this tank is the best thing we ever did,” Rita said, though her voice shook from the constant bouncing. “I mean ever. We can roll this thing all the way into Knoxville and find us a nice abandoned mansion or something. Who’s going to stop us? Hey, Nathan, where do you suppose your mom acquired this thing? It’s pretty slick.”

The tank was slowing down now. Apparently, Mr. Turner was not too keen on just running over people. Still, Melanie couldn’t see much choice.

“I’m sure the militia stole it at some point after the EMP,” Nathan replied. “I could see them breaking into an Army base or armory somewhere and taking it. That’s right up their alley.” Nathan was tucked way down deep in a back corner of the tank. It didn’t look comfortable down there. “Grandpa had a lot of stuff that he shouldn’t have had, illegal weapons and stuff. It’s sort of a Wolverine tradition, I guess.”

Finally, the tank came to a stop. They were less than ten yards from the line of men and vehicles. The Humvee with Sue Ellen cut in front of the line and came to a stop. Sue Ellen stepped out of the passenger door and took a few hopping steps to the shoulder of the road. She raised the bullhorn again.

“You’ve stolen my son,” she shouted. “And now you’ve stole one of my vehicles. Get out of the tank. If you come out unarmed, you will be shown mercy.”

Nathan made a snorting sound. “That’s a lie,” he said. “My family doesn’t believe in mercy. The Wolverines definitely don’t believe in mercy. Unless she means a merciful quick death.”

Rita was moving around down there. Melanie heard her fumbling in the dim light, as if looking for something. Mark and Shona both grunted in discomfort as she bumped into them.

“Pop, you’re gonna have to go through them,” Melanie said. “I’m sorry, but it’s the only way.”

“If they’ve got explosives, they could destroy one of the treads,” he replied. “Or we could get stuck on one of the vehicles, especially those armored Humvees.”

“Then turn and go up the slope onto the highway,” Melanie said.

“It’s too steep,” he replied. “The tank would overturn, and if that happens, we’re trapped in here.”

“Well, we can’t just sit and wait for something to happen. What’s the plan?”

“I’m thinking about it,” Mr. Turner replied. “Give me a second.”

Sue Ellen continued to shout through her megaphone. Two Jeeps, three Humvees, and about a dozen armed men now stood before the tank. Melanie turned and looked behind them and saw another Jeep and Humvee about a hundred yards back, close to the factory’s entry road.

“You think that tank is indestructible, but you’re wrong,” Sue Ellen shouted. “Don’t make us resort to more dangerous methods. I don’t want to put my son at risk, but I will not let you take him. Do you hear me? There’s still a chance to end this peacefully. Just come out of the tank, give us Nathan, and we’ll let you live.”

“Does she really think we’re stupid enough to get out of the tank?” Melanie said.

A massive explosion caused the tank to rock backward. Melanie was slammed into her seat, and her head thumped against the metal frame behind her. Shona cried out in fear, and Dusty yelped loudly. And in the midst of the violence, Rita cackled like she’d lost her mind. A second explosion soon followed. Melanie felt the intensity of it shuddering the hull of the tank, and her windows were suddenly veiled by fire and smoke. Rita’s laughing intensified.

“What in God’s name is going on?” Melanie cried, rubbing the back of her head. It seemed she had a second welt now to join the first. “Did they hit us with something?”

“No, boss, we hit them,” Rita replied. She laughed again, then coughed, then spit. “I figured out how to load and fire the big gun. It’s not so hard, but it’s a whole lot of fun!”

It had put an end to Sue Ellen’s little speech. Indeed, as the initial burst of smoke passed, Melanie saw Sue Ellen and some of her men retreating into the field beside the road. It seemed the shell had passed over the vehicles and hit one of the burned buildings in the shopping center. Still, the point had clearly been made.

“Be careful back there,” Mr. Turner shouted from the driver’s seat. “Don’t just fire willy-nilly. We don’t want to kill innocent people!”

“What innocent people?” Rita said. “All I see in front of us are dangerous nutjobs. Anyway, I’m firing again, boss.” She seemed to be having a blast. Melanie wasn’t feeling it. Her head hurt, her ears were ringing, and she was sick to her stomach from all the tension and dread. “Don’t worry. I’ll aim better this time. I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

The militiamen opened fire again. This time, bullets were coming from multiple directions. Melanie could hear and feel the staccato impacts on all side. She watched as Sue Ellen and some of her men continued out into the field. One of them was firing as he went. Suddenly, a bullet hit the narrow turret window. The glass was bulletproof, but the impact left a big white mark that made the window practically opaque. The sudden snap of it startled Melanie, and she lurched back against Lizzy.

“Are you okay?” Lizzy asked.

“Yeah, but I lost a window,” Melanie replied. Other bullets continued to crack against the hull, and Melanie wondered if they wouldn’t eventually break through the armor. She had no idea.

There were still two Humvees parked in front of them. The other vehicles had moved out of the way. One of the Humvees and a Jeep were racing up the hill toward the auto body shop. A few men remained standing in the way of the tank and firing their rifles.

“Pop, I told you, you’re going to have to floor it,” Melanie said. “We don’t have a choice.”

Even as she was speaking, Rita fired another round from the big turret. This one landed in a ditch just beside one of the Humvees. The explosion sent up a geyser of dirt and flames, and the Humvee flipped onto its side.

“How many more shells have we got back there?” Mr. Turner asked.

“Just two,” Rita replied.

“Okay, don’t fire again,” he said. “Preserve those last shells. We might need them. I’m going for it. I think I can squeeze past now. Everyone, hold on tight.”

Melanie grabbed a rounded edge of the metal framework in front of her as the tank lurched forward. Ahead, three of the lanes were still blocked by vehicles. The vehicles in the outer southbound lane had been rolled partially out of the way, but it didn’t look like the tank would fit, not without easing into the fire-filled ditch. As the tank picked up speed, the men scrambled out of the way. Some of them continued to fire, even as they ran for it. The driver of the Humvee clambered out through the broken windshield and crawled across the lanes.

“This is it,” Mr. Turner shouted.

He eased the tank to the edge of the road, still picking up an alarming amount of speed. The violent shaking of the tank went all the way to Melanie’s bones, until she was on the verge of vomiting. Fortunately, there wasn’t much in her belly.

If anybody throws up in these tight quarters, we’re in big trouble, she thought.

The left tread of the tank slammed into the overturned Humvee, and for one terrifying moment, the massive vehicle rocked to the side, the left tread leaving the road. The right tread sank into the ditch, and they tipped precariously. Mr. Turner cursed loudly from the driver’s seat, and Melanie felt a hand clawing at her arm. She realized it was Mark trying to grab her hand, but she dared not let go of the framework.

Through the small front window, she saw flames rise up at a ninety-degree angle from the crooked world, licking at the tank. Melanie felt herself sliding off the seat, though there wasn’t really anywhere to go.

We’re going to roll over, she thought, glancing up at the hatch above her. How quickly could she get the door open and scramble out of the tank before it rolled all the way?

And then Mr. Turner gunned the engine, and the additional forward momentum brought the tank back down. The left tread slammed down on the road, and the whole tank bounced. It was so violent that for a moment, it felt like they were dice being shaken in a cup. Melanie’s shoulder hit the framework, her forehead smacked against the turret window, and then she dropped back onto her seat so hard, it sent a little jolt of pain up her spine. Shona and Lizzy were screaming, Dusty let out a desperate bark, and Mr. Turner kept cursing loudly.

And then the tank settled, and Melanie reached up to rub yet another sore spot, this time just above her left eyebrow. Only when she was sure she wasn’t bleeding did she reach down and feel around beneath her. She found Mark’s shoulder and grabbed hold.

“Is anyone hurt?” she asked.

“Yes,” Rita replied. “Everyone is hurt, but no one’s dead.”

She glanced down and saw the people cast about beneath her, bodies intertwined. Shona was hugging Dusty tightly, her face buried against the dog’s side. Nathan had somehow gotten pushed even deeper into the crevice behind the loader’s seat, and Lizzy was now practically standing on him. Rita pulled herself into her seat, but a trickle of blood ran out of her hair and down her right cheek.

“Are they following us?” Mr. Turner asked.

Melanie turned and looked out the rear window. Fire and smoke rose from the ditch. The burned-out husks of the shopping center were on fire again as well. She saw the Humvee rolled onto its top now, a second Humvee tipped over beside it. A third vehicle had driven into the field, but its doors were wide open. It took a moment to spot the people. Little shapes in the tall grass running back toward the factory.

“They’ve abandoned their vehicles, and they’re fleeing,” Melanie said.

“We did it,” Rita said, giving a loud whoop. “We blasted through the line. We’re free!”

Free. Somehow the word rang hollow to Melanie. Free from their home. Free from their extensive food and water supply, most of their weapons, gear, clothing, toiletries, medical supplies, beds. Free from a roof over their heads. Free from familiar surroundings.

Free indeed.

11

Melanie did her best to settle down in the small, hard seat. She had her head in her hands, trying to push through the waves of pain and nausea. Her entire head throbbed now, and her back hurt. Plus, she was still on the verge of throwing up. It felt like being stuck on some horrible county fair ride that never ended. Unfortunately, they kept rolling over vehicles, so every few seconds, she got jostled all over again.

“I never enjoyed going to the county fair anyway,” she muttered, shutting her eyes.

“Folks, where are we headed?” Mr. Turner said.

“Just keep driving toward town,” Melanie replied. She was afraid to raise her voice, in case it was the final thing that pushed her churning stomach over the edge, but she had to speak loudly to be heard over all of the noise. “We have to find a safe place to park this tank. I have no idea where that’s going to be, but we need to get very far from the militia.”

“When we reach the next entrance ramp to the highway, maybe you should take it,” Lizzy said. “It might be a more comfortable ride.”

“I doubt it,” Rita replied. “There are a lot more dead vehicles on the interstate.”

“All of this bouncing around is going to make me spew,” Lizzy said.

“Please, don’t talk about it,” Melanie said with a moan. “I’m trying to hold it together here.”

Mr. Turner cursed loudly then, and Melanie felt the tank slowing down. She didn’t want to lift her head. She didn’t want to open her eyes or let go of the tight hold on her forehead, so she tried to ignore it. Maybe it was just a stray dog in the road or something.

“Hey, guys, remember when we first spotted the militia convoy?” Mr. Turner said. “Remember how there were a whole bunch of other vehicles that didn’t exit the highway? They kept going? Remember that?”

“Yes, Pop, yes,” Melanie said. “We all remember. It just happened this morning.”

“Well, I think I found out where the rest of them went,” he said.

Melanie took a deep breath and lifted her head. Pain stabbed through her skull and brought tears to her eyes. She wiped them away and gazed through the forward window. They’d been driving down the access road for a few minutes, leaving a trail of flattened and mangled vehicles in their wake. Ahead, she saw a burned-out gas station by the side of the road, and beyond it, the entrance to a residential neighborhood. Beyond that, there was a large warehouse with a parking lot facing the access road, and it was in this parking lot that numerous vehicles had gathered. There were Jeeps, Humvees, and quite a few ATVS, with dozens of people on foot moving between them. Most of the people were armed.

“What are all these people doing here?” Melanie asked. “This is more than half the militia, by the look of it.”

“Keeping an eye on the road, I would guess,” Mr. Turner shouted. “They’ve got a hell of a lot of high-powered rifles over there. They must’ve heard about the stolen tank, because they don’t appear friendly. I guess Sue Ellen’s got a two-way radio.”

Indeed, as the tank passed the gas station, Melanie saw the militia moving into position, taking cover behind vehicles and aiming toward the tank. A couple of Jeeps had mounted guns in the back. Fifty calibers, if she had to guess. As she watched, men climbed up into the backs of the Jeeps and took up positions behind the big guns.

“Pop, don’t slow down,” Melanie called. “Get past them as fast as you can!”

“The tank is not impervious to damage, Mel,” he replied. “We can’t just soak up fifty-caliber machine gun fire.”

“Can’t we?” Rita said. “I don’t see even a fifty-caliber bullet penetrating this armor.”

“The treads, at least, could be damaged,” Mr. Turner said.

“Well, the slower you go, Pop, the longer we’ll be a target,” Melanie said. It hurt so bad to talk. Every word made the bumps on her head throb. “Floor it, Pop. Get us out of here.”

He didn’t press the point. Melanie felt the tank speeding up again, and the residential neighborhood drew near. However, in the parking lot beyond, the militia now had dozens of guns pointed at them.

“Boss, you’re getting worked up over nothing,” Rita replied. “You’re sitting in the commander’s seat. Give me the order, and I’ll fire one of these remaining shells right in the middle of that parking lot.”

“I think it’s our only choice,” Melanie replied. “Take the shot. Hurry.”

“One speedy delivery M829 armor-piercing sabot coming right up,” she said.

Melanie heard the clank of metal on metal. At that moment, as they passed the entrance to the neighborhood with its nice homes—about a third of them were visibly damaged or burned—the militia opened fire. Bullets began to clank against the hull, and even the barrels of the .50-caliber machine guns began to flash with a hateful light.

Then the turret turned, bearings groaning as Rita aimed toward the parking lot. A few men ran for cover. Most of them, by some stubborn act of sheer violent stupidity, kept shooting. When the tank fired, the whole vehicle rocked back hard, and Melanie was flung against the metal framework again. However, she managed to get her hands up in time to absorb the impact. Through the window, she saw the shell race past the houses, streak over a small field, and fall down in the midst of the many vehicles.

The fifty-caliber guns continued to fire right up to the bitter end. And then the shell hit, and the trucks disappeared in the explosion of fire, smoke, asphalt, and dirt. Melanie saw bodies spinning through the air. Those outside the blast fled, some of them discarding their rifles along the way, as Rita whooped and clapped from the gunner’s seat below.

“That’s what you get,” she shouted. “Fire that fifty cal. at us, will you? Well, that’s what you get!”

Debris from the blast rained down on the tank, bits of asphalt and pieces of vehicles and people thumping against the hull, as Mr. Turner picked up speed. Some of the survivors ran toward the warehouse at the back of the parking lot. Others headed into the field and cut toward the residential neighborhood. Where the fifty-caliber guns had been, only a shallow crater remained.

“This tank is a little bit scary,” Lizzy said. “We just dusted those guys.”

“Only one shell left, though,” Rita said. “How many militia guys we got left? Just tell me where to point the turret, and I’ll try to hit in the center.”

Melanie turned and looked through the rear window. More militia vehicles were parked by the factory. However, no one was following the tank. Those on foot were mostly running the other way as fast as possible.

It won’t last, she thought. Sue Ellen won’t let us take her son away. She’ll regroup and try to find us.

“I think we’re in the clear,” Melanie said. “Let’s get as far away as possible.”

“I got the pedal to the metal,” Mr. Turner replied. “Just tell me where to go.”

Just then, the whole tank bounced as they rolled over another dead vehicle. Melanie was jostled against the framework, but she had learned to cushion her head with her arms. Ahead, she saw the access road stretching off toward Knoxville.

“Did we just use a tank to kidnap a kid?” Lizzy said from below.

“No, we escaped a violent militia that attacked the factory and tried to kill us,” Melanie replied.

“I’m not going with her,” Nathan replied. “I won’t be part of that militia. It’s like joining a violent cult. I won’t do it, no matter what. I’m sorry. I’m sorry if people got hurt, but I’ll die before I go with her. It just wouldn’t be worth it. Life was pretty good for a few weeks there in the factory. Of course, she had to come along and ruin it.” His voice was quavering badly, as if he were crying. Melanie didn’t bother to look at him—no reason to make the teen self-conscious.

“We’ve got you, kid,” Rita said. “Don’t you worry about it. I blew those cultists to hell. Let’s hope they learned their lesson. We don’t send people back into abusive environments, and if they try again, I’ve got one more shell for them.”

If this last comment was meant to comfort Nathan, it didn’t have the intended effect. He sighed and shifted place in his cramped spot behind the loader’s seat.

“No need to apologize, Nathan,” Melanie said. “We did what we had to do. There are always risks, and we accept them.”

Just then, they bounced over another vehicle. Melanie had had more than enough with all of the violent jostling, but they hadn’t gone nearly far enough. She maintained her hold on the framework, shut her eyes, and waited.

After a few minutes passed, she felt the vehicle turning. Opening her eyes, she realized the tank was leaving the access road and turning down some emptier road that ran alongside a large landfill. When she took another look behind them, the factory was long gone, and she felt a pang of regret. More than regret. This was something dangerously close to grief. She would never see the place again. Somehow, she knew it.

Mark was hunkered down beside her seat, but he reached up now, as if he sensed her mood, and patted her on the back.

“At least we have a tank now,” Shona said. “That makes us pretty much unstoppable, right? We can go wherever we want, and no one can stop us or take Nathan.”

“That’s exactly right,” Rita replied. “Who needs a factory when you have a mobile fortress?”

“Well, we can’t just drive forever,” Mark said. “We’re a huge moving target, for one thing, and we can’t refuel, for another. Once the gas tank is empty, we’re stuck.”

“Better to be stuck in a tank than out on the open road with crazy people,” Lizzy said.

“It’s not like we can live in the tank,” Melanie said. “I think we’d better find some place to park this thing. More than that, we’d better find another safe building with no current occupants.”

“Do you want me to ditch the tank now?” Mr. Turner shouted from the driver’s seat.

“We’re an awfully big target like this,” Mark said. “Honey, what do you think?”

“I think I’d rather be a big target with an armored hull than a small target on foot,” she replied. “Pop, keep going. Let’s get as far out of range of the militia as we can. Then we can ditch it somewhere that’ll be hard to follow.”

“And where would that be?” he replied.

“Maybe we could park it and walk to an unoccupied home,” Lizzy said. “Someplace where they left all of the furniture behind and maybe some food and a little booze. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Nice maybe, but not safe,” Melanie replied. No, indeed, she was seeing something far more extreme in her mind. Now that they’d left the relatively safety and comfort of the factory, her focus was on survival, not comfort. “They could find a way to track us to a house. Even if they don’t, the homeowners might return unexpectedly, or some other group might try to take the house from us. We’re not going to take any chances.”

“Mel, why do I have a sense that you’re going to send us off somewhere crazy?” Lizzy said.

“Well, actually, I think we should head away from town, find a nice forest somewhere, and ditch the tank there,” Melanie replied. “We’ll head deep into the forest and camp, at least for the time being. We’ve got weapons, a few supplies, a bit of food, and ammunition. Surviving in the forest shouldn’t be that hard. Plus, even if Sue Ellen manages to collect her tank again, she won’t be able to chase us into a forest with it.”

Her idea hung in the stuffy, smoke-tinged air of the tank’s interior for a good two minutes. She could tell by the silence that the others hated her idea. She heard Dusty moving around, restless in Shona’s lap, and wondered what she would think. Dusty would probably prefer the forest to the city, especially after all of the scares and violence in recent weeks.

“The forest,” Mark said, as if he weren’t sure exactly what the word meant.

“From sleeping in beds to sleeping on the ground,” Lizzy said.

“That’s right,” Melanie replied. “That’s what we’re doing, and it’s the safest option, I think.” And then, louder, she said, “Pop, if we have the gas, try to circle around Knoxville and head south. We’ll get as close to the Smoky Mountains as this tank will take us.”

Mr. Turner grunted loudly, then said, “Okay, if that’s really what you think we should do, who am I to argue? I’ll head that way.”

“Come on, friends,” Rita said, smacking her hand against the back edge of the tank loader. “Don’t mope about it. We’re headed into the Smoky Mountains. Yeah, lying on the ground will suck, but the views are going to be amazing!”

12

Circling around Knoxville in order to reach the Smoky Mountains wasn’t going to be easy. The city was ringed with smaller communities, none of which would be especially accommodating to a full-size tank. Furthermore, there was the issue of fuel. To get as close to the mountains as possible, they needed to take the most direct route possible. A detour way beyond the border of the city was too risky. This led to a somewhat prolonged debate about the route they ought to take, with Melanie finally winning out.

“We’ll stay outside the city boundaries, but cut it close,” she said. “Take the smaller roads, where there’ll be fewer dead vehicles to bounce over. If we can head south past Maryville, we’d be in a good place. That’ll get us closer to where we want to go, and perhaps it’ll make us harder to follow.”

“You got it, Mel,” Mr. Turner said. “We’re smooth sailing. I’ve got the hang of this machine now.”

“I’ll say it again. It’ll be a shame having to leave this tank behind,” Rita said. “It’s growing on me. Don’t you guys feel sort of invincible riding inside of this thing?”

“I feel claustrophobic, to be honest,” Lizzy replied. “Also, it’s really hot and loud. Personally, I’ll feel better when we’re camped in the mountains somewhere.”

“Liz, you’re probably the only one who feels that way,” Mark said.

“I wish we were back in the factory,” Shona said. She was almost aggressively petting Dusty, as if trying her hardest to draw some comfort from the cowering creature. “It was nice there, especially the library room. The forest won’t be the same.”

Understatement of the year, Shona, Melanie thought.

Melanie fixed her gaze through the forward window and tried her best not to think about the factory, about the vast closets, the multiple shelves overflowing with supplies of every kind. She tried not to think of the stacks of MREs and other kinds of foods, of the large reservoir of clean water, cots, blankets, and pillows.

Most of that stuff wasn’t yours to begin with, she reminded herself. Just be glad you got out alive.

They’d gone a couple of miles past the landfill. Ahead, the road curved to the south and approached a small town. Melanie wasn’t sure which one it was. There were so many small towns sprinkled throughout the area, and she wasn’t familiar with many of them. She saw maybe a dozen small buildings clustered around an intersection, including a gas station, a grocery store, and a preschool. The town seemed utterly quiet and still, possibly abandoned.

However, as they got closer, she realized the intersection was crammed with vehicles, the evidence of some large accident. As best she could tell, a pickup truck had sideswiped a big black sedan, shoving it into a telephone pole. Another vehicle had rear-ended the truck, and a Suburban had toppled onto its side for good measure. Scorch marks on the road and the vehicles indicated that there had been a fire, and debris from the wreckage was scattered across the lanes.

“The road is clogged up ahead,” Melanie said, massaging her aching head. “Pop, can we roll over it, or should we go around?”

“I can’t see out of the windows,” Shona said. “What is it, Mom? Is it bad?”

“Big accident,” Rita replied. “Looks like emergency services never showed up. What are the chances there are still bodies rotting in some of those cars?”

“Lovely thought,” Lizzy said. “Gun it, Pop. Get us over this mess.”

“I don’t think we can get over them,” Mr. Turner replied. “The vehicles are piled up. We run the risk of getting stuck.”

“Can we go around them?” Melanie asked.

“I’m worried about the deep ditches on either side of the road,” Mr. Turner replied. “We almost tipped this whole thing over the last time we tried to ride through a ditch. I’d rather not risk it again.”

“Well, we’re not turning back now,” Melanie said. She felt the tank slowing down. “Pop, we either go around or we roll over them. What’s the safer option?”

He was quiet for a few seconds, then blew his breath out. “If those are the only choices, then I guess we’re going through. I’m not sure we can clear the vehicles, but I’ll gun it and see what happens. You sure you want to try it?”

Melanie considered this. If they wrecked the tank, they were in big trouble. Stuck on foot, trying to find some place in this tiny town where the militia wouldn’t find them? No, she didn’t like that idea at all.

“I don’t know if we should try it,” Melanie said. “Isn’t there a third option?”

“Well, there sure as heck is a third option,” Rita said, drumming her hands on the front edge of her seat. “I’ve got one more shell. I’ll clear that intersection. Don’t you worry about it.”

The last shell. Melanie hated to use it on something like this. What if they had another confrontation with the militia? Then again, if all went according to plan, they’d be hiking the Smoky Mountains, deep in the forest, before Sue Ellen recovered her tank. Anyway, Melanie’s head was killing her, and she just desperately wanted to get where they were going, so she could get out of this armored hellhole.

“Go for it, Rita,” she said. “One shell. Make it count.”

“Hey, I’m an old hand at this now,” Rita said.

Melanie heard a series of clanks as Rita picked up the final shell and loaded it into the breach. Then Rita reached over to the gunner’s control, and the turret gave a little groan as it started to move.

“You guys have no idea how fun this is,” Rita said. “The mechanics of it, the kick, that visceral shudder that goes up your arms—it’s a truly satisfying experience. I don’t know why I became a metalworker. I should’ve joined an Army tank crew.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Melanie replied.

“I’ll burn it into my memory, so I can dwell on it when we’re traipsing in the woods.”

Melanie braced herself against the framework again, getting her arms up just in time to cushion the impact when Rita fired. The tank rocked back, the boom of the firing filling the cramped space. Melanie was squinting against her pounding headache, but she saw the streak of the shell as it traced a shallow arc down the road. It hit the intersection just beside the overturned SUV, and the whole accident scene disappeared in an eruption of smoke, dust, and debris. Melanie had a sense of vehicles tumbling before the smoke swept closer and hid it all.

“If that wasn’t a bullseye, I’ll punch my own face,” Rita said with a laugh.

When the smoke finally cleared, Melanie saw a fresh crater right in the middle of the intersection. It was relatively shallow, but it had eaten all the way through the asphalt. The various vehicles that had been jammed together in the accident were well out of the way now. Some had rolled into the ditches. Others had slid out of the way. As for the SUV, it had been smashed flat and ripped open, and it hung now on the rim of the crater.

“That did the trick,” Mr. Turner said. “We’ll have a little bounce over the crater, but I think we’re in the clear. I’m going for it.”

“We should have got us a tank a long time ago,” Lizzy said. “This is so easy!”

“Boy, you said it, sister,” Rita replied. She reached back for a high five, but Lizzy wasn’t looking and missed it. So, Rita turned it into an awkward smack on the shoulder instead.

The tank picked up speed as they approached the cratered intersection. Melanie caught a glimpse of mangled bodies in some of the vehicles, but then she hunkered down in her seat, covered her head, and shut her eyes. They hit the crater, slammed into the pit, then bounced on the other side. Melanie briefly came out of her seat, and she heard Shona give a cry from below. Dusty yelped again, and Lizzy muttered a curse.

Then they landed on the road beyond the crater with a bone-jarring thud. Melanie’s teeth clacked together, and her aching back gave a little bark of pain. But they were beyond the wreckage and moving fast through the little town.

“Hot dang, I wish we had more shells,” Rita said from below, heaving a big sigh. “I’ll never have that much fun again as long as I live.”

They were moving due south now, exactly the direction they wanted to go. Melanie saw the edge of Knoxville off in the distance to their left. Straight ahead, along the horizon, the Smoky Mountains rose up like many humped backs against the purple evening sky.

“Aren’t these tanks supposed to have machine guns mounted on them?” Rita added. “This tank is missing them. Maybe it’s an old requisition or something. Hey, boss, want to trade places with me up there, so I can aim my rifle out of the hatch?”

“Hopefully, there won’t be a need for that,” Melanie replied. “I think we’re in the clear. For now, let’s just sit tight.”

She was scanning their surroundings, looking for any sign of people. The small town seemed to have been abandoned. Where had the people gone? Maybe they were all hiding in their homes. It was a strange sight. The buildings and roads looked normal. The cute little houses, the ordinary small businesses, the country roads winding this way and that, but no activity. No lawns being mowed, no one pumping gas or pushing grocery carts out of the little store. She found the whole thing haunting.

Finally, she turned and looked behind them. She saw the road winding back to the northeast, curving close to the large landfill that they’d already passed. And then some faint movement caught her eye. At first, she couldn’t tell what it was. Twinkling lights from small objects on the road. They were too small to be cars, but they were moving fast. The tank’s window glass was partly obscured by dust and smoke stains, so finally she opened the hatch and hoisted herself up.

“Be careful poking your head out into the open,” Mark said, grabbing at her sleeve.

“I just need a better view,” Melanie replied. “I’m fine.”

She gently extracted her sleeve from his grasp and pulled herself through the hatch, grabbing the edge of the mount where one of the machine guns should have been. She narrowed her eyes and gazed behind them, tracking the small objects as they flew past the landfill. Four of them. She made out the shapes of people straddling them, eight of them sitting in pairs.

“ATVs,” she said. “There are ATVs coming down the road.”

“The militia had ATVs,” Mark said.

“Why would they follow us with such small vehicles?” Lizzy asked.

“I think that’s the point,” Melanie said. “Smaller vehicles. Harder to hit with the tank cannon. And they’re certainly much faster. Sue Ellen is no fool, and she clearly has no intention of giving up the chase.”

13

“It’s times like these when a girl wishes she had more tank shells,” Rita said. “Next time, these Wolverines need to stock up on the 120-millimeter ammo before they take their M1A1 for a ride.”

Melanie was trying to gauge the speed of the ATVs. The tank was flying down the road now, occasionally bouncing or hopping over debris along the way. It was fast enough that the whole vehicle seemed on the verge of going out of control, and Mr. Turner kept cursing and shouting, as if he were struggling with the controls. Even so, it wasn’t fast enough.

“These guys are going to catch up to us,” Melanie said. “They’re moving a lot faster than we are.”

“How soon till they catch up?” Mark asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Within the hour, for sure, and that’s assuming we keep the tank at full speed.”

“Boss, while you’re up there, you might as well grab your gun and hold them off,” Rita said. “Take a few shots in their direction. You might get lucky.”

“No,” Mark replied. “Get down below the hatch, Mel. You can’t sit up there in the open and trade shots with a bunch of armed men. We’re still safer inside an armored tank. What are they going to do to us? Don’t we have the advantage?”

“No,” Melanie said. “We most certainly do not.”

They had moved south of the small town now. The land here was green and hilly, with small stands of trees separating scattered properties and undeveloped fields. It wasn’t ideal. She climbed back down through the hatch, pulling it shut behind her.

“It wouldn’t be hard for them to approach the tank and climb on top,” she said, settling herself in her seat. “We can trade shots with them, but there’s a very real chance that they could fight their way into the tank.”

“Close and lock the hatches,” Mark said.

“They could disable the engine,” Melanie said. “Damage the treads. Blow open the hatches. Or just hunker down with their guns and wait for us to run out of gas. Without tank ammo, we’re trapped in here like rats.”

“They don’t know we’re out of ammo,” Mark said. “How could they?”

“They’ll know,” Nathan said from his spot way down in the back corner. Melanie could just barely see him down there, curled up behind the gunner’s seat. “Believe me, they’ll know. They take stock of all the gear they steal, buy, or otherwise acquire, including their ammo. They know how many shells they brought, I’m sure, and they’ll know how many times you’ve fired.”

“Once they see the crater back there at the intersection, they’ll know we can’t fire the big gun at them again,” Melanie said. “Which means, if they’ve got two-way radios, they can contact each other, call the other vehicles, and swarm the tank before we get to the mountains.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Nathan said.

Just then, the tank rolled over a vehicle. Melanie was unprepared, and she slammed into the framework beside her hard enough that she saw stars. She felt a comforting hand on her arm, and she looked down to see Mark gazing at her with a concerned look on his face.

“I’m fine,” she told him, rubbing the side of her head. “I understand now why tank crews wear helmets and ear protection. I’m going deaf, and my head is covered in bumps and bruises.”

She looked back behind them again, just as the tank rounded a bend. A large stand of trees moved in the way, blocking her view of the ATVs, but she caught a last glimpse of them as they roared down the road. It seemed clear what they had to do, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. Fortunately, Rita took the initiative.

“Well, if you ask me, without shells, we’d be better off taking positions in the trees somewhere and picking them off as they drive down the road,” she said.

Not enough trees. That was the problem. This wasn’t a forest. Small clusters of trees didn’t provide enough cover. Melanie turned and scanned the road ahead of them. It looked like they were approaching another large residential neighborhood beyond the western boundary of Knoxville. The road crossed a narrow suspension bridge over a large creek then curved to the right and entered the neighborhood. Trees or houses, which provided better cover? She wasn’t sure, but she also didn’t have time to sit and dwell on it.

“Pop, get us into the neighborhood up ahead,” she replied. “If we can find a big enough house, we can park the tank behind it, out of sight of the main road. That might buy us enough time to get into hiding somewhere.”

“You got it,” he replied, though his voice was strained.

“We’re going to park the tank and head out on foot?” Mark said. She could tell by the slight quaver in his voice that he hated that idea with all of his heart. “Is that really what we’re going to do?”

“Yes, Mark,” she replied. “Right now, we’re a giant moving target that has no ammo. We need to find a place to hide that provides plenty of cover, in case they manage to track us somehow.”

“They probably will,” Nathan said.

They were approaching the small suspension bridge at what felt like breakneck speed for a tank. Melanie had been so preoccupied with getting away from the ATVs that it hadn’t occurred to her until now that the tank might be well over the weight limit for the bridge.

“Hey, Pop, is there a chance we’ll break the bridge?” she asked.

“There’s a chance,” was all he said in reply.

“Just gun it,” Rita said. “Get over it fast before the cables have time to snap.”

Melanie felt a little shudder of fear. The vertical suspender cables seemed so thin, so flimsy, compared to the tank. The two lanes were wide enough to accommodate the M1A1, but how many tons could those cable endure?

“Oh, God, everyone hold on,” she cried. “If we go down into the water, be prepared to drag yourself out of a hatch as fast as you can.”

“Just cross every appendage that we don’t land upside down,” Rita said. “There are no hatches on the underside of this tank.”

You didn’t have to say that, Melanie thought, bracing herself against the framework.

“That seems like a design flaw,” Nathan said.

Melanie’s left hand reached down and found Mark’s hand, clamping down tightly. “Shona, hold on to something. Be ready to climb out of here, if it comes to that.”

“I don’t like this,” Shona whimpered. “I don’t want to be in this tank anymore.”

“Just be ready,” Melanie said.

As they reached the bridge, Mr. Turner kept them at breakneck speed. Melanie felt a shudder as the tank rolled onto the bridge, and she sensed the road shifting beneath them. It bent and groaned, and the cables began to squeal, as if pushed to their limit. She grabbed the handle of the hatch above her, ready to fling it open at a moment’s notice.

They had crossed maybe a third of the bridge when the first cable snapped. She heard it give way just to her right. Before it disappeared behind the damaged window on her right, she saw the two halves flying apart with a high-pitched sound that was practically a scream of pain.

Melanie turned around to see the damage behind them. When she did, her gaze was drawn beyond the bridge. The ATVs appeared around the bend, closing the distance fast. They were driving in pairs, two by two, with one man driving while the other aimed a rifle over the driver’s shoulder.

If I poke my head out of the hatch now, I’m dead, she thought. Even so, she let go of Mark’s hand and grabbed the strap of her rifle over her shoulder.

Another cable snapped then, and a third in quick succession. They were roughly halfway across the bridge now, but she felt the road beneath them buckling. The asphalt crackled under the weight of the treads. Dusty was whimpering frantically, writhing in Shona’s arms, as if she knew they were on the verge of death.

Behind them, Melanie saw a section of the bridge sagging down, half a dozen broken cables curled upon the roads. They were almost to the other side of the bridge now, but the whole tank was trembling violently.

“We’re going down,” Mr. Turner shouted. “Guys, be ready to swim!”

The ATVs were approaching the end of the bridge, but they slowed now. Another series of cables snapped, a bunch of them in a row—pop, pop, pop, pop—and suddenly the tank tipped to one side. Melanie realized one whole side of the bridge had sunk down, and she saw the brown, churning water of the creek some thirty feet below.

“Will we flip upside down?” Shona cried. “Mom, will we flip?”

“Just hold on to something,” Melanie replied. “Brace yourself for the fall. Protect your head so you don’t get knocked unconscious. Then be ready to get out of the hatch as fast as you can.”

She watched the first two ATVs reach the end of the bridge, slowing but not stopping. Incredibly, they drove onto the bridge, as if they were unaware of its imminent collapse—or just didn’t care.

How fanatical are these people? Melanie wondered.

The buckled section of the bridge beneath the ATVs gave way, like a weary man who just couldn’t hold on any longer to the burdens of life. Both lanes pulled apart and fell, dumping chunks of asphalts, bent beams, and broken cables into the water below. The ATVs went with them, the men clutching tightly to their vehicles as they fell. Melanie heard them shouting, screaming.

“These people are almost as crazy as us,” she muttered.

The tank gave a violent shudder then, and Melanie clamped her eyes shut.

This is it, she thought, her heart leaping into her throat so that she could taste every heartbeat against the back of her tongue. We’re going down. God help us.

But the drop didn’t happen, and after a couple of seconds, she opened her eyes again. Looking through the rear window, she saw the rest of the bridge collapsing behind them. The initial breaking had produced a domino effect, so that it continued to collapse outward in either direction. However, the tank had reached solid ground. The two remaining ATVs on the far side of the bridge were desperately backing away.

Finally, the rest of the bridge crashed into the river below with a violent splash.

“Too close, too close, too close, by God,” Mr. Turner shouted from the driver’s seat.

“The whole bridge is down,” Melanie said, “but the militia guys are on the other side. That should buy us some time.”

“I’ve never come so close to crapping my pants,” Rita said with a sigh. “Not since I was a toddler. Sorry, it’s disgusting, but it’s true. I had to say it.”

Melanie’s heart was still pounding, and she felt dizzy. She turned back around, fanning her face with her hands. They were entering the residential neighborhood now, passing nice little ranch-style homes in neglected yards.

“We’ve got to get out of this tank,” she muttered. “I’ve had quite enough of it.”

Scanning the neighborhood, she spotted a particularly large house off to the right. Two stories, maybe three-thousand square-feet, with a high fence and big trees in the side yard.

Big enough to hide a tank from the nearby road, she thought.

“Pop, that two-story with the blue siding,” she said. “Do you see it up ahead?”

“I see it,” he replied.

“Park the tank behind it,” she said.

“The bridge is down,” Rita said. “They can’t follow us.”

But Melanie shook her head. “We bought a little time, but those ATVs will find a way to cross the creek.”

At the first cross street, Mr. Turner slowed the tank and turned right, entering a quaint little street lined with lovely homes. The lawns had probably been quite nice at one point, too, but every single one of them was overgrown and weed-choked now. As they passed the homes, Melanie studied the windows, looking for some indication of people living inside. Indeed, a few times, she thought she sensed bodies moving in dim rooms beyond the glass.

Unfortunately, cars were stalled in the streets in a few places. Up ahead, a truck had died backing out of a driveway, while an SUV was dead in the other lane. Mr. Turner eased the left tread onto the front yard of a house, crushing the mailbox in the process. The right tread then rolled over a corner of the SUV’s hood, but they managed to get around the vehicles.

Beyond, the road turned to the left, approaching the large two-story house.

“Once we’re around the corner, we’ll be out of sight of the main road,” Melanie said. “It won’t be hard to figure out where we’ve gone, but it might buy us a few minutes. That’ll help.”

“And then…?” Lizzy asked. “I’m about eighty percent bruises at this point. I don’t expect to be all that fast on foot.”

“We’ll find a place where…” Melanie’s voice trailed off.

The engine was making a strange sound, and she felt a kind of shuddering go through the vehicle. They seemed to be slowing down, and then the engine suddenly cut off. The interior of the tank went still and quiet, and the big vehicle came to a stop in the middle of the road, still twenty or thirty yards from the turn.

“Don’t tell me…” Melanie said.

“Out of gas,” Mr. Turner replied. “I’m afraid our tank ride is over, folks.”

“It’s just as well,” Melanie said. She looked down at the others. Anxious faces. Shona hugging Dusty tightly. Lizzy gnawing on her lower lip like it was made of flavorless chewing gum, Mark grimacing into the void.

“Okay, gather up everything we brought,” Melanie said. She turned the handle on the hatch and pushed it open. Cool afternoon air swept into the stagnant human-and-machine stench of the tank’s interior. “Follow me. Quickly. I don’t know how much time we have.”

She grabbed the edges of the open hatch and hoisted herself out of her seat. As she did so, the pounding in her head intensified, and the whole world seemed to spin. She was dangerously close to passing out. Best to get somewhere out of sight, somewhere with padding, before that happened. She climbed out of the tank and lowered herself to the hull. As she did, Mark appeared next, lugging the backpack full of medical supplies.

As she lowered herself to the ground, she quickly glanced around, looking for any sign—any sign whatsoever—of threats. She neither heard nor saw the ATVs, but it occurred to her that there might be hostile residents in the neighborhood. Surely, some would feel uncomfortable at the sudden presence of a massive tank. Indeed, she spotted a face peering down at them through the part in a curtain from a nearby house. It looked like an old man with a long gray beard.

Mark dropped down beside her, pill bottles rattling inside the backpack. Lizzy was pulling herself out of the hatch now.

“Let’s go,” Melanie said. Her skin was crawling. She sensed many eyes watching them, not just the old man. Yes, there were people here. “Hurry up. Get out of the tank.”

Mr. Turner came out of the driver’s hatch, massaging a shoulder as he climbed down to the street. Rita appeared then, lugging the big duffel bag of supplies. Shona and Dusty were next, but the reluctant dog had to be carried; she wasn’t going anywhere willingly at this point. The dog had seen enough strange and sudden dangers for one lifetime, and the trauma had reduced her to little more than panting luggage.

Nathan came last, and he left the hatch almost as timidly as Dusty, peeking out of the opening for a second before lifting his head fully. “Did they follow us? Are we safe?”

“We’re in the clear for now,” Melanie said, beckoning him. “Let’s get out of here while we can. Come on, Nathan.”

He finally climbed out and crawled across the hull, dropping down onto the street with the others. Melanie did a quick visual check of each person. She saw plenty of bumps and bruises, red eyes from the smoke, anxious faces, shaky hands, but no one appeared to be seriously injured.

“Mel, you’ve got a nice bump on the side of your head there,” Lizzy said, pointing at a spot above Melanie’s head.

“Trust me, I know,” Melanie replied, all too aware of the constantly throbbing ache. “Okay, follow me, everyone. We’re going to find a place to hide.”

She beckoned them and started down the street, heading for the turn. Rita gave the tank a last regretful look, then fell in beside her. Moving fast, Melanie left the road and cut across a yard, heading deeper into the neighborhood. And did she hear a hint of the ATV engines, a high whining echoing somewhere far away?

They just keep coming, she thought. How do we get away from these people?

14

Melanie was practically sprinting at this point despite the soreness and stiffness in her limbs and the sharp pounding in her head. She didn’t want to hide in a house that was close to the tank, so she kept the group moving. They took a few turns, winding their way through the neighborhood until they were all turned around and confused. By then, everyone was panting and sweating, and Melanie had to slow down. She couldn’t take much more.

A small brick house just ahead appeared to be abandoned. No vehicles in the driveway, living room curtains parted to reveal a dim, empty space beyond. She crossed the street and started up the driveway, glancing over her shoulder to make sure everyone else was still behind her.

Shona and Nathan were lagging. Of course, Shona was trying to carry the dog, but Nathan seemed jumpy, startled by things that weren’t even there. Close to panic or some worse meltdown. When Melanie turned back around, she was almost to the front door of the house, but a hostile face had thrust itself through the blinds of a small window near the door. The man was holding a handgun, not yet aiming it at her, but clearly wanting her to see it.

“Not that house. Not that house,” Melanie said, diverting course and running an awkward semicircle back out toward the road.

Rita laughed at this but kept pace with her.

“People still live in this neighborhood,” Mr. Turner said. “I’m sure they’ve had to deal with burglars. If we’re not careful, we’re liable to get shot.”

“One of these houses has got to be abandoned,” Melanie said. “Surely some of the residents got caught out of town when the EMP hit. We just need one empty house.”

She scanned up and down the street until she spotted another small home that looked empty—this time with yellow aluminum siding and a big front porch. Again, no vehicles in the driveway, empty rooms beyond parted curtains. This one had molding mail stuffed into the mailbox to overflowing.

Is there anything like mail delivery these days? she wondered. Surely not. That must be from before the EMP.

She had to cross the street to reach the small yellow house. She kicked through knee-high grass to reach a small sidewalk and approach the front door. Then she mounted dusty porch steps, passed a small decorative stone figure that had fallen over at some point, and reached up to knock.

“Get ready to run if someone’s home,” she said. “We might not get a friendly welcome.”

“Seven people with guns at the front door,” Lizzy said sarcastically. “Who’d be scared of that?”

Melanie rapped her knuckles on the door a few times, then waited in the silence that followed. No one answered, so she knocked again. Still no answer. She glanced at Mark, who shrugged.

“Either no one’s home, or they’re not about to answer the door,” he said, “and quite frankly, I wouldn’t blame them.”

“I don’t think anyone’s here,” Melanie said. “I don’t think anyone’s been here in a while.” She turned to Rita. Somehow, it seemed that the old metalworker would know.

“Dust on the doorknob,” Rita noted. “No one’s opened this front door in a long time. It’s a safe bet. I say we go inside.”

Melanie glanced at the others to make sure no one was going to protest. Shona and Nathan had just reached the porch. There was still some distance between them, though not as much as before. Turning back to the front door, Melanie considered the best way to get inside.

“Did we bring the lockpicking tools from the supply closet?” she asked.

“We did not,” Mr. Turner replied. “Didn’t make it to that shelf before it was time to leave.”

“Ah, but we’ve got something just as good,” Rita said. She set the duffel bag on the porch and squatted down beside it. Unzipping the bag, she reached inside and fished around for a moment. “Here we go. This is all the lockpick we need.” She produced a claw hammer and held it up.

“Can we minimize the damage to the house?” Melanie said. “I really don’t want to trash the place. These people might come home eventually.”

“We can.” Rita approached the nearest living room window. There were a series of them, tall windows with double panes set in a row along the front of the house. Taking a deep breath, Rita reared back and promptly smashed the bottom pane with the hammer.

About half of the window glass promptly broke and fell in jagged pieces against the curtains on the other side. She took a few more swings to knock out the rest of the glass. Then she turned, holding up the hammer and grinning proudly.

“Minimal damage, see?” she said. “Let’s go.”

She reached down and grabbed the handles of the duffel bag with her free hand. Then she hoisted it up and stepped through the open window. The pane she’d broken was partially hidden from sight of the road by a wooden rocking chair on the porch.

Melanie followed Rita through the window, sweeping the curtain aside.

“Everyone, get inside quick,” she said over her shoulder.

Beyond the curtain, a broad living room ran almost the entire length of the house. A long leather couch was covered in dust. A deer’s head hung from the wall above the couch, and a small stuffed black bear snarled at them from a low shelf in the corner. The whole house had a musty smell. Clearly, it had been uninhabited for a long time. Little ceramic tchotchkes were slowly disappearing under a blanket of dust and cobwebs on numerous shelves. A television mounted above the mantle hung at an angle, as if it were slowly giving up the ghost.

“Oh, we’re going to have to sweep the heck out of this place before we can take naps,” Lizzy noted, as she pushed through the curtain. “Too bad we can’t use the generator to run a vacuum or something. The thought of sitting on the couch makes my skin crawl.”

“Let’s worry about naps later,” Melanie said. “Now is not a good time to be caught sleeping.”

When Shona came through the window, she finally set Dusty down, and the dog immediately ran to the nearest corner, hiding behind a filthy recliner. Nathan was the last one inside, casting a final furtive glance over his shoulder before the curtain blocked his view of the outside.

“I don’t think we left any obvious tracks,” he said. “But I’m sure the neighbors saw us come in here. They could give away our location.”

“I doubt the locals will want to talk to the militia,” Melanie said. “They don’t seem like they want to talk to anyone. With a little luck, those Wolverines will assume we kept on going right out of the neighborhood.”

The grimace on Nathan’s face suggested that he didn’t believe it, and quite frankly, Melanie wasn’t so sure herself. Anyway, what choice did they have? They had to hide somewhere. Everyone was gathered in the living room now. Mr. Turner even dared to take a seat on a chair in the corner, though he gave it a good swipe with his sleeve first to knock off some of the half-inch of dust.

“Don’t get comfortable just yet,” Melanie said. “I do hope the owners of this house are long gone, because we’re going to scavenge the rooms.”

“We’re burglarizing the house?” Mark said. “Honey, are you sure about that?”

“It’s not burglary if it’s abandoned,” Rita noted, rubbing her hands together. “It’s no different than picking through garbage.”

“I don’t really like doing it,” Melanie said, “but we have to survive, Mark. I don’t know what else to do. Each of you to pick a room and search it. Grab anything that might be of use and bring it into the living room. Let’s do this quickly, but try to keep it down. Not too much noise.”

Rita gave her a little salute. “I’ll check the garage, boss. Gotta be some useful tools out there.”

“I’ll try the kitchen,” Lizzy said. “Personally, I’m hungry. Most of the food is probably rotten, but canned goods should be okay.” She pressed a hand to her belly.

Rita and Mr. Turner headed to the garage. Shona and Nathan started rooting through the living room. Mark headed for the bedrooms, and Melanie joined Lizzy in the kitchen. Every room, every shelf, every piece of furniture was covered in dust. Melanie wanted to cough just looking at it.

“It doesn’t take long for a nice house to look like a crypt,” Lizzy noted, opening a drawer near the refrigerator. “Nature is quick to hide the evidence of human habitation. You know what I mean?”

Melanie started with a big pantry door near the kitchen table. “Yeah, another year without people maintaining this place, and it’ll look like ancient ruins,” she said. “Human impermanence.” Inside the pantry, she found shelves stocked with all kinds of food. Boxes of cereal, flour, and sugar, cans of vegetables and fruit, maple syrup in a plastic container, peanut butter, honey, granola bars. Vermin had nibbled their way into many of the carboard boxes. They seemed especially fond of the sugar and fruity cereal.

“These’ll help with the dust,” Lizzy noted, dumping a fistful of towels on the counter. “And there’s a bunch of knives in here, too.” She pulled out a small steak knife with a black plastic handle and set it on top of the shelves.

“That’s good,” Melanie replied. “There’s edible food in here.” She grabbed a jar of peanut butter and the maple syrup, setting them on the counter near a toaster oven. Then she grabbed some cans of vegetables.

“Ooh, tell me those granola bars are still good,” Lizzy said. “They’re dipped in milk chocolate. Pure junk food! Do you realize how long it’s been since I ate pure junk food? I’m so tired of powdered soup mix, canned vegetables, crackers, fried meat.”

Melanie picked up the box of granola bars. Indeed, it had survived the vermin attack. She showed it to Lizzy. “You’re in luck. The mice don’t like chocolate-dipped granola bars as much as cereal and sugar.”

“Oh, you dear sweet rodents,” Lizzy replied. She opened a cupboard and retrieved a small cooking pot, setting it beside the towels. “That is one my favorite cereals, though. Oh well. The milk has probably turned into cheese by now anyway.” She gestured at the big refrigerator in the corner.

“Whatever you do, don’t open the fridge,” Melanie said. “If you do, we’ll smell things we’ll wish we’d never smelled.”

“You don’t have even just a tiny bit of morbid curiosity?” Lizzy said, playfully reaching for the fridge door. “Milk, juice, butter, cream cheese…who knows what’s been sitting in that warm space for the last few months, slowly transforming into goo in the dark.”

“We’ll never know,” Melanie replied.

“Oh, very well.”

They both laughed then, and it struck Melanie as odd. How long had it been since the two of them had both genuinely laughed? Not because of nerves, not out of awkwardness or restless fear, but in a moment of lighthearted friendly silliness? She couldn’t remember.

And it was in that happy little moment that she heard a haunting echo of some familiar sound coming, it seemed, from out of the sky itself. A bark, a squall, a distant voice that had a sharp, artificial edge to it. Lizzy spun around, bumping the small pot with her elbow and almost knocking it off the counter, making quite a bit of noise in the process. Melanie held a finger to her lips.

In the quiet that followed, she heard it again, even more clearly. A modulated voice shouting through a megaphone, echoing down the street. Sue Ellen.

“She’s here,” Lizzy said. “She couldn’t have given us a few more minutes to pretend like we were finally safe?”

“I guess not,” Melanie said.

15

By the time Melanie returned to the living room, the others were already gathering. Yes, they could all hear it now, that sharp voice carrying throughout the entire neighborhood. Rita had an unplugged Sawzall in one hand, a socket wrench in the other, as if she’d been right in the middle of some home-repair project. Mr. Turner was holding a large, empty canvas bag.

“She’s got a distinctive voice,” Rita said, speaking softly. “I’ll give her that. You can recognize it from a mile away.”

Mark returned then from one of the bedrooms. He had dust all down one side of his hair and on his right shoulder and sleeve, as if he’d lain down on a bed. Melanie might have picked on him about this under different circumstances.

Knock some of the dust off the bed before you lie down on the job, dear.

Shona and Nathan came next, though Nathan seemed to be dragging his feet. They were walking together now. Apparently, the rift between them was gradually healing, possibly without the mitigating problem ever being discussed.

“Dusty won’t leave the bathroom,” Shona said. “She’s scared of that voice.”

“Can you blame her?” Lizzy said. “It’s like some banshee wail from the ninth circle of hell.”

Melanie tapped a finger against her lips again and held up a hand, waving them all to complete silence. Then she crept toward the nearest window, carefully avoiding the large pieces of broken glass. The others gathered behind her. She squatted in front of the curtain, cocked her head to one side, and listened.

Sue Ellen’s voice was coming from another street, it seemed. Far enough that the echo made it hard to pick out the words. Melanie was tempted to peek through the curtains, but she decided it wasn’t worth the risk. What if militiamen were out there with binoculars, scanning the windows for some sign of them?

“Shouldn’t we hide in a basement or something?” Lizzy asked in a whisper.

“Wait,” Melanie replied. “Listen. I want to hear what she’s saying.”

“Calling for me,” Nathan said. “What else? But I won’t go. I won’t.”

Sue Ellen’s shrill voice slowly got louder, clearer. It was a haunting sound, ghostly, a maniac screaming at the sky. Gradually, the words became more distinct, and Melanie finally began to pick out what she was saying. Begging, pleading, threatening them unless they handed over her son? No, none of that.

“Any resident, I repeat, any resident who will come outside and speak with me will be rewarded!” She said this a few times. “Tell me what you’ve seen. Tell me where they’ve gone. Someone saw something! Someone saw something! Don’t be afraid. Come out and speak with me. You will be rewarded.”

The voice was getting loud now, but Melanie still couldn’t tell how close it was. “There’s a second story to this house, right?”

“Yes,” Rita replied. “I saw windows set against the slanted roof. At least a few bedrooms up there.”

Melanie rose and backed away from the window. “Okay, I’m headed up there. I need to see where she is. Come on. Let’s stick together.”

She headed across the living room, past the ever-growling bear with its yellow teeth and glass eyes, toward the hallway at the back of the house. The hallway ran the length of the house at the back. At one end, a set of quaint wooden stairs led up to the second story.

“What about Dusty?” Shona said. “She’s still cowering in the bathroom. We’re not going to leave her behind.”

“No, we won’t leave her behind, if we can help it,” Melanie said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to carry her upstairs, Shona. I’m sure there’s another bathroom on the second floor.”

Melanie stepped lightly, though the stairs squeaked anyway. Indeed, it was a bit comical, the long line of them trying to tiptoe up the stairs like the world’s most awkward burglars. At the top, there was a small carpeted landing with a row of doors on the far side. The middle door was a bathroom, and the second Shona set Dusty down, the dog rushed inside and disappeared in the dark.

As for Melanie, she led the others into a bedroom. Kids had lived here once. A bunk bed against the wall with pink and green covers, posters of anime characters on the walls, a box of dusty Legos abandoned on the floor. A whole life disappearing before their eyes.

The room had a single small window looking over the front yard. It was dim and gloomy now, late evening light barely seeping through the curtain. Melanie grabbed the edge and peeled it back just enough to see outside. From here, she had a view down the road the way they’d come.

“All I need is one brave, helpful resident,” Sue Ellen said, her magnified voice cutting through the whole neighborhood. “Can we find a single brave, helpful resident to point the way? Don’t be afraid. Come out and speak to me. Tell me what you saw. I will reward you! Not gold, not money, but food! That’s a proper reward. We’ve got plenty of it, so come on out!”

Melanie saw a Humvee about three blocks away, heading their direction but moving very slowly. The sunroof was open, and Sue Ellen was standing up on the back seat. She had a metal army helmet on her head—it looked like some relic of the Gulf War—the beige color mismatched with her black clothes. In one hand, she held a pistol, but it was resting on the rooftop. In her other hand, she held the megaphone close to her mouth.

A line of ATVs followed close behind her, moving in pairs.

“Good people, my son was kidnapped by criminals,” Sue Ellen shouted. “Kidnapped! My only son! Is there a compassionate soul who will help me find the culprits? Someone must have seen them! Someone knows! Tell me what you saw. It will be well worth your time!”

From behind her, Melanie heard Nathan mutter, “Kidnapped,” as if the sound of the word disgusted him. The Humvee was creeping along, barely moving. Fortunately, no one seemed to be responding to Sue Ellen’s pleas. Melanie saw only dark windows and closed doors.

“Mel, what do you see?” Mr. Turner asked. “What’s going on out there?”

“Sue Ellen is pleading with the residents,” Melanie replied, “but no one responding. That’s it.”

“Of course not,” Rita said. “Does this woman not realize how scary she is? Who would be dumb enough to approach her?”

“Oh, she knows,” Nathan replied. “Trust me, she knows. It’s a point of pride.”

Suddenly, about a block down, the front door of a small red brick house swung open. A man stepped out, middle-aged, looking as disheveled as any human being Melanie had ever seen or imagined. He wore a stained, wrinkled t-shirt, filthy sweatpants, and house slippers with one heel that was loose and flapping. His graying beard had reached the perfect length to be awkward and ugly without being elegant, the whiskers devouring the entire front of his neck and climbing his cheeks almost to his eyeballs.

He waved both hands over his head as he made his way to the street, then he jogged in the direction of the Humvee.

“Now, here’s a helpful neighbor,” Sue Ellen said. “Come and tell us what you’ve seen, sir.”

As if emboldened by this first man, another door opened a few houses down, and an elderly woman stepped outside, shuffling down her sidewalk in an old blue housedress. She was soon followed by a young man, who came out of a garage in a long yellow coat.

“Damn, the neighborhood is starting to turn on us,” Melanie said.

Rita approached and peeled back the other side of the curtain to get a view.

“Careful,” Melanie said. “Not too much. We don’t want to be spotted.”

Three people became four, then five. They made their way down the street to meet with the Humvee. Sue Ellen finally lowered the megaphone and tapped it on the roof of the vehicle, and the driver came to a stop.

“We know at least a few people saw us,” Rita said. “Heck, the whole neighborhood probably knows we’re here. A bunch of weirdos sprinting down the street with rifles and bags? Who wouldn’t notice?”

“All they have to do is point at this house, and our cover is blown,” Melanie said.

“And what do we do then?” Lizzy asked. “Where do we go?”

“I’m not sure,” Melanie said. “I guess we go out of the back door and over the fence, try to cut through yards where the vehicles can’t follow.”

Sue Ellen waited until all five of the locals had gathered in front of the Humvee. Then she ducked through the sunroof and exited the passenger door. As she approached the locals, Melanie could see that she was talking to them, but the distance was far too great to make out the words now. The disheveled man nodded and began to say something back to her, gesturing broadly with his hands. Then the old woman began to gesture and speak.

“They haven’t pointed at the house yet,” Rita said. “What could they be saying to her?”

“I wish I knew,” Melanie replied. “I wish Sue Ellen would keep the megaphone to her mouth when she speaks.”

“They’re giving away our location,” Lizzy said. “That’s what they’re doing. Sacrificing some innocent people for a bit of extra food. Can you believe it?”

“I don’t know if innocent is the right word to describe us,” Melanie muttered. “We broke into a house. I think desperate is more accurate.”

“Well, either way, they don’t have to rat us out,” Lizzy said.

Now, the man in the yellow coat was speaking, and he was patting his belly with both hands as he did so. Suddenly, Sue Ellen took a step back, bumping against the grill of the Humvee. Then, in one swift motion, she raised the pistol in her hand and shot the young man in the chest. He doubled over, and she shot him again in the head. It happened so fast, Melanie barely registered what happened.

The double crack of the pistol soon followed. The man fell, blood pouring from his head onto the street.

“Is she killing them?” Shona asked. “Mel, what’s happening? We can’t see out the window.”

“She shot one of them, yes. Not sure why.”

The other locals immediately tried to scatter, each heading in a different direction. Sue Ellen shifted her pistol, aiming at the disheveled man as he ran away. She shot him—once, twice, a third time. He managed to take about five more steps, driven perhaps by sheer adrenaline, before he suddenly collapsed. He landed flat on his face, arms at his sides, and did not move again.

The old woman in the housedress attempted to get back to her own yard, but she took three bullets in front of her mailbox and collapsed in a heap, wrapping her arms around the pole as she fell. The other two locals managed to escape, however, fleeing back into nearby homes. Sue Ellen stood there in front of the Humvee for a few quiet seconds, then slowly raised the megaphone to her mouth.

“I asked for help,” she said, in a shrill and hateful voice. “I asked for help finding my son. The son they stole from me! All I got was begging from hungry people. Begging and ignorance! ‘Give us food! Give us food! We don’t know anything! Give us food!’ I didn’t ask for beggars!” In a blind rage, she stomped a foot, and then raised the gun above her head. She proceeded to unload the rest of the magazine, firing wildly into the air. When the gun was empty, she flung it to the ground, and returned to the Humvee.

By the time she reappeared through the sunroof, she’d somehow acquired another pistol.

“Search the houses,” she shouted through the megaphone. She waved her gun in the direction of the ATVs. “Search every house. If the residents try to run or resist, kill them. If they let you search, spare their lives! Find my son. Find the scum who stole him! Every house! Go!”

Some men dismounted from the ATVs. Three more stepped out of the Humvees. They spread out, moving in groups as they approached the nearest houses on either side. Melanie let the curtain fall back into place and stepped to one side. She turned to face the others. All but Rita were huddled together in the middle of the room.

“So, they’re searching the houses now,” Mark said, his arm around Shona’s shoulders. “I hear that. It’s only a matter of time before they come here.”

“That’s right,” Melanie replied. “But they’re almost three blocks away, and there are plenty of houses between us. They’ll want to be thorough, I’m sure, which means we have a little time.”

“But where do we go?” Shona said. “If we go outside, they’ll see us…or someone will see us…and they’ll shoot us.”

“It’s dark out there now, but not quite nightfall,” Melanie said. “I think we can risk waiting a few more minutes until it’s fully dark.” She heard a distant crash of glass, a scream. “We’ll use the cover of night to escape.”

“We’re just going to sit here for a few minutes?” Lizzy asked. “That seems foolish.”

“I don’t want to wait,” Nathan said. He was standing at the back of the group, fidgeting and looking even more awkward than usual. The anxiety was palpable around him—a kind of nervous radiation. “I don’t want the militia getting any closer to me. They won’t see us in the backyard, not if there’s a fence.”

“It’s too risky to step outside right now,” Melanie said. “We need all of the cover we can get. Don’t worry, Nathan. It won’t be long now.”

16

They had little choice but to hunker down in the upstairs bedroom and wait. Melanie sat beside the curtain so she could keep an eye on the progress outside. Nathan and Shona began idly playing with some of the child’s toys in the room, as if reverting to their own younger years in order to escape the evening’s events. Mark, Lizzy, and Mr. Turner each sat in silence, half-dozing, with their backs against a wall. Melanie wished she could do the same, but she had too much restless energy.

Rita was even more restless. She began pacing the room, walking loops, occasionally peering out into the hallway or joining Melanie at the window. Though she stepped carefully, she made constant little noises. Melanie was tempted to tell her to stop it, but she refrained. Everyone had to deal with the situation in their own way, and it wasn’t like anyone would hear the occasional soft creak of the floorboards from the street outside.

“What if they come to this house before we leave?” Shona asked at one point. “Then what do we do? Will we stay up here in the bedroom and hide, or will we try to fight our way out of the house?”

“They’re still almost two blocks down,” Melanie replied. “If they get close, we’ll talk about Plan B.”

The sun was in no hurry to fully set this evening. Melanie kept gazing through the tiny gap in the curtain, watching the militiamen go from house to house. They pulled people outside, tossed furniture and other possessions onto yards. Sue Ellen was absolutely terrorizing the neighborhood. Screams of fear, crying children, shouts and cries echoed up and down the street. The two dead bodies were left in the street.

Finally, the last light of the setting sun faded. As the sounds of the militia got louder, the people in the upstairs bedroom became more restless. Rita’s pacing had become frantic. Shona and Nathan had moved closer to the bedroom door, as if preparing to flee.

“Okay,” Melanie said finally. The closest group of militiamen were searching a house at the end of their block. “I think it’s time to go.”

She let the curtain fall back into place and picked herself up. Her many aches and pains had turned into stiffness and soreness. Her head was still pounding, but she pushed through the misery. Turning, she adjusted the rifle over her shoulder and waited for the others to rise.

“It’s about time,” Rita said, stooping down to grab the big duffel bag near the door. “All of this waiting around is driving me nuts.”

Mark rose then and helped Mr. Turner to stand. They all seemed groggy and unwell. It was going to be a rough night, Melanie could see that. They had a long way to go, and no real idea of where they were going.

“I need everyone to move as quietly as possible,” she said. “A single loud sound could give away our location. Is that clear? We’re very lucky that the locals haven’t already given us away, but I doubt our luck will hold out forever. Got it?”

“We don’t know this neighborhood,” Lizzy said. “Where are we going? What if we get lost?”

“We go away from the militia,” Melanie replied. “And for now, that’s good enough. Come on.”

She beckoned them as she strode across the room. Mr. Turner picked up the backpack and slipped it over his shoulders. Shona and Nathan dropped a few action figures that they’d been playing with. As Melanie led them out into the hall, Shona diverted into the upstairs bathroom to retrieve Dusty. They descended the stairs in a line, and Melanie was troubled at how much noise they made. Clanking rifles and supplies, loud footsteps, noisy breathing, snorting, and anxious tics of one kind or another.

Turning back, she put a finger to her lips as she approached the bottom step and the downstairs hall.

“You know, if they see that broken window in the living room, they’ll know we’ve been here,” Lizzy pointed out.

“It’s at least partially hidden,” Melanie replied. “They won’t see it until they’re close to the front door. Anyway, we can’t do much about it now. Hopefully, we’ll be far away before they figure it out.”

Halfway down the hall, a short alcove led to a back door. Through the door’s single small window, Melanie saw a shadowy yard with a swing set and a shed, a high fence and a small tree that was split down the middle. She approached the door, leaned in close to listen, then slowly turned the knob.

The shouting and screaming of traumatized locals now echoed through the neighborhood. Melanie heard a door slam, a heavy object thud against a wooden porch, an ATV engine rev. The backyard, at least, appeared to be empty, and the surrounding fence was tall enough to hide them from the front street. She stepped through the door. Rita was right at her shoulder, then Shona and Nathan. Mark, Lizzy, and Mr. Turner brought up the rear.

The backyard might have been lovely at one time, but months of neglect had caused the grass to grow wild, slowly consuming the swing set and shed. A small walkway made of flat stones was practically invisible, but Melanie used it as best she could to reach the back fence. At the fence, she paused to wait for the others. They seemed to be wading through the high grass, Mr. Turner bringing up the rear. He was still limping slightly from his earlier injury.

Melanie made a small gesture with her hand to signal that they were going over the fence. She heard the sound of an ATV racing down the street in front of the house, the desperate sounds of what seemed to be someone fleeing, then a gunshot, a shriek of terror. It was all getting too close. She boosted herself up on the middle crossbeam of the fence, grabbed the tops of the boards, and pulled herself over. As she dropped on the other side, she tried to get her feet under her, but she landed awkwardly on her side and rolled through grass so high, it seemed to swallow her.

When she picked herself up, she saw that she was in the backyard of another house. Ahead, in the deepening shadows, she saw a broad deck, a sliding glass door that had a shattered pane, and some furniture strewn in the yard. It seemed the place had been burglarized at some point. As she started across the yard, Melanie briefly considered cutting through the house. Instead, she headed for a gate just to the right of the house.

She heard the others dropping over the fence behind her and looked back. Rita sprung lightly, landed on her feet, and hardly slowed down in the process. Mark struggled a bit, lowering himself with a bit more care, taking care not to use his injured arm too much. Shona and Nathan worked together to get Dusty over the fence. Lizzy had to help Mr. Turner, though they both wound up tumbling into the grass rather ungracefully.

Melanie made another hand gesture to indicate that they were going through the gate, but it was getting so dark that she wasn’t sure they all saw it. She cut through the yard, stumbling on hidden objects beneath the grass. The roar of ATVs created a ghostly sound that seemed to lay over the whole neighborhood—directionless and punctuated by cries of terror. She pressed the latch and pushed the gate open, revealing the front yard, another street lined with ill-kept large homes.

Suddenly, a bright light shone through the slats of the gate. Melanie grabbed the latch to keep it from swinging all the way open, as she dropped down onto her knees. Rita moved up on her right side, breathing heavily, the duffel bag over her left shoulder. Slowly, she reached up and slid the rifle off her other shoulder, but Melanie held up a finger to tell her to wait. The white light was moving down the street, and soon the roar of ATV engines shifted, as if a piece of the directionless sound had broken off and taken shape.

An ATV was coming down the street. Clearly, the search had expanded. Melanie pressed herself low, hiding most of her body beneath the grass. She heard others doing the same. Dusty was panting loudly and wriggling in Shona’s grasp. The ATV appeared then, moving slowly down the street. The second rider had some kind of spotlight, and he was shining it at houses as he passed by. Rita raised her rifle and took aim.

“No,” Melanie whispered. “Shoot at them, and you’ll give away our position.”

“Just in case,” Rita replied.

The spotlight was aimed at the other side of the street as the ATV passed their position. However, it suddenly swung to the left, carving a bright path across the front yard of the house beside them. It climbed along the front wall, even touching the gate where they were crouched. Melanie held her breath. Was the high grass enough to hide them? She couldn’t tell. The barrel of Rita’s rifle followed the ATV, sweeping through the grass.

But the vehicle kept going, the spotlight moving back to the right, revealing faces in a few windows. Melanie waited until it reached the end of the street and turned left. Then she rose and stepped through the gate, beckoning the others to follow with a big sweep of her hand. Across the street and just to the right, a cross street led away. Since it would take them in a direction perpendicular to the ATV’s original path, it seemed like the safest route.

“Move fast,” Melanie said. “In case another vehicle decides to come down this road. Don’t stop.”

And with that, she rose and took off running, dashing through the overgrown front yard to reach the street. She heard the others behind her. Fortunately, Dusty kept right at their side, but she knew that if the dog decided to suddenly take off, they might lose her here in this sprawling neighborhood. Hopefully, Shona wouldn’t be foolish enough to chase after her if it put them in danger.

Still, they were making too much noise. Far too much noise. Panting, clanking, pounding footsteps. Dusty padding along with her anxious, wheezing sounds. Even in the shadows, they were practically a parade, and Melanie began looking for somewhere to go, some safer place away from the road and windows.

“I know you want to run, boss,” Rita said. She was hugging the duffel bag to her side in what was apparently an effort to minimize the noise. “But if an ATV comes up behind us, we’d better be ready for a fight. A real fight.”

As she said it, Melanie saw the yard before her emerge from the gloom as the backwash of some distant light appeared. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the long line of her people running through the yard. Dusty was free and racing along beside Shona. The light seemed to be coming from somewhere down the previous street, as if another vehicle had turned the corner. Indeed, she heard the growing roar of an ATV engine, as the light grew.

“See, boss?” Rita said. She had the rifle clutched in her right hand, and she struggled to get it into a firing position as she continued to run. “We’re not getting out of this without a fight.”

Melanie looked ahead of them. There were plenty of houses, porches, windows, front doors, but how easy would it be to get inside? It looked like they had mere seconds. And what if they chose a home that was still occupied? Maybe Rita was right, as much as she hated the idea. They weren’t going to win in an open gunfight with the militia, not here, not like this.

And then she spotted an open gate to their left, and a broad yard beyond. She turned in that direction, frantically waving for the others to follow. Dusty, apparently reading the signal, raced past them all and reached the open gate first. Once she was on the other side, she came to a stop and turned to wait for them, panting loudly.

“Fast, fast, through the gate,” Melanie said over her shoulder.

The white light was shifting, growing, like light from a strange moonrise. It climbed up the fronts of houses, glinting off dusty windows. The ATV engine was distinct now, very close. Melanie ran through the gate, almost tripping on the dog in the process, and caught herself against the brick side of the house. Rita came next, grabbing a fence post in passing and swinging around, as if positioning herself to fire back toward the street. The others followed shortly thereafter. Fortunately, they had no stragglers. As Rita swung the gate shut, Melanie saw the distinct wedge shape of the ATV’s headlight pivoting like the arm of a clock.

“They’re turning down this street,” she said.

Rita just managed to cushion the latch before it closed, but it still made a loud click. The sound of the ATV grew louder as the vehicle moved down the cross street. It was going slow, and a spotlight began to move back and forth over the houses. Melanie turned to survey the yard behind them. What had seemed like a big well of darkness now appeared to be a swimming pool with a cover over it. As she moved toward it, she pointed.

“Under that cover,” she said. “We’ll hide until the ATV passes.”

“In the pool?” Shona replied.

“That’s right.”

However, as she approached the pool, she saw a problem. The pool cover was stretched taut and held in place by a series of ropes that were looped around a number of anchor points. There didn’t seem to be any way to get under it.

“Isn’t it enough to just hunker down in the yard here?” Lizzy asked. “They’ll drive right by.”

“We can’t get under there anyway,” Shona said.

But Mark strode past them then, drawing something from his pants pocket. He knelt down beside the pool. His injured shoulder had never quite healed right, and he had limited motion with that arm. Still, as he reached down, moonlight glinted off the blade of a pocketknife. He proceeded to slash the pool cover, struggling through the stiffness. After cutting about a two-foot opening, he beckoned the others.

“It’s the shallow end of the pool,” he noted. “Climb in, get under the pool cover, but keep your head above the water.”

“And the guns?” Rita said.

“Stash the duffel bag and hold the guns out of the water,” Melanie said.

At this, Rita shrugged, setting the duffel bag under a lounge chair. As she did that, Mark pulled the rifle off his shoulder, raised it above his head, and stepped down into the hole in the pool cover. There seemed to be about six inches between the top of the water and the cover, but he managed to get his head underneath. When he did, he practically vanished from sight. The cover was opaque, either dark blue or black.

When the others hesitated to follow him, Melanie made a little impatient spin of her hand. Lizzy went next, raising her shotgun above her head. Behind them and beyond the gate, the spotlight of the ATV moved down the fence, shining brightly through the gaps in the boards. The vehicle was creeping along now, almost at a standstill.

Do they know we’re on this street somewhere? Melanie wondered.

After Lizzy, Rita went into the pool. Shona reached for Dusty, but the dog tried to avoid being grabbed. This led to a brief chase, but Nathan helped corner her. Then they worked together to get the dog, and themselves, under the pool cover. The poor creature whimpered and kicked with her back paws, but Nathan and Shona held her tightly. Mr. Turner stashed his backpack with the duffel bag, then went into the pool. That left Melanie.

She gave one last glance at the gate. The ATV seemed to have stopped in the road just beyond the front yard, the spotlight crawling back and forth along the nearby houses. It swept over the gate a few times, and she wondered if they could see her through the tiny gaps between the boards. Pulling the rifle off her shoulder, she raised it and stepped down into the shallow end of the pool, sliding through the cut in the nylon fabric.

“Did they see us?” Rita asked.

Instead of answering, Melanie shushed her. It was utterly dark beneath the pool cover. Melanie went to her knees, which put the water at shoulder height. She raised the rifle in both arms above the water, her hands brushing the underside of the pool cover. All sound seemed magnified under the cover, so she could hear their breathing. Dusty continued to kick and splash in the water.

“Hold her legs,” Shona whispered to Nathan.

“I’m trying,” he replied. “She’s wriggly. I don’t think she likes the water.”

When Melanie turned back around, she saw the light of the ATV through the cut in the nylon fabric. It seemed to have settled on the gate.

They know we’re here, she thought, and felt a moment of trembling near panic. Maybe Rita was right. Maybe a gunfight is inevitable.

But then the light shifted again, swept away from them, and the ATV’s engine revved. She listened as it moved off down the street, taking the light with it, and plunging the whole yard into the impenetrable darkness. She waited until the sound of the vehicle was long gone.

“Okay, I think it’s safe now,” she said. “We’ll take another perpendicular path from the ATV and move deeper into the neighborhood. Let’s go.”

“At least we got absolutely soaking wet for no reason,” Lizzy said. “My shoes are going to be sloshy and awful all night.”

“And yet the water won’t kill you,” Melanie replied sharply.

“No, but getting blisters on our feet will certainly make things a heck of a lot worse,” Lizzy said.

Melanie couldn’t argue with that. She rose through the gap in the pool cover and climbed back onto the concrete walkway. Lizzy was right. Being soaked to the bone was going to feel awful, especially if their wet shoes caused blisters.

Well, we had to act quickly, she thought. We didn’t have time to consider all of the side effects.

“Sorry, guys,” she whispered. “It was the only thing I could think of at the time.”

“We smell less like smoke and more like chlorine now,” Mark said. “That’s an improvement.”

Melanie headed back to the gate. Rita grabbed the duffel bag and came after her, as the others fell in line. At the gate, Melanie hesitated a moment, straining to hear every sound beyond the fence. Voices and engines continued to ring out over the neighborhood, but the street beyond the gate was dark.

“Mel, level with us,” Lizzy said, shaking her arms to get some of the excess water off her sleeves. “Do you really think we can get out of this neighborhood without getting caught?”

Would I say no, even if that was the honest answer? Melanie thought.

“We’re getting out of here,” she replied, instead. “That’s all there is to it. Everyone stick close and keep moving, no matter how tired you feel.”

Once the others had gathered behind her, Dusty giving herself a shake to dry off, she eased the latch up and opened the gate. It had been a long day, and Melanie felt the strain in her body. But adrenaline kept her going, a white-hot fire in her belly that made her limbs continue to move. She stepped through the gate and took off running across the yard toward the street. On the other side, she saw an alleyway and aimed for it.

17

Melanie would have kept going through the night, but after close to an hour of winding through a neighborhood that never seemed to end, dodging lights from militia vehicles, some of her people began to lag behind. Mr. Turner was struggling, and there wasn’t much Lizzy could do to help him. He’d reached his limit. Dusty was also struggling, and Shona and Nathan now lacked the strength to carry her. Only Rita seemed to have boundless angry energy. She was hardly out of breath despite lugging the big duffel bag over her shoulder.

Finally, Melanie spotted a tall privacy fence with an open gate behind an older house. A large shed in the back seemed to be in good shape, so she made her way toward it. Whether she liked it or not, most of the others needed to rest for a while. A bit of food and water might help, as well. She couldn’t push them to the point of collapse, or they would really be in trouble. The streets around them were terribly dark, though she saw candlelight flickering in a few windows here and there.

“We’ll stop for a little while,” she said quietly over her shoulder. “A few minutes at most, so we can catch our breath.”

Exhausted eyes peered back at her from the shadows. Mr. Turner had fallen way behind now. Lizzy walked at his side with her arm around him, but it scarcely seemed to help. Melanie slowed down to let them catch up.

She didn’t realize until she was close that the gate was broken. It was hanging at an angle from the bottom hinge. It little mattered at this point. The shed was visible over the fence anyway. Best not to linger here long.

“We’re not here to sleep,” she said, as she moved into the backyard. “Just rest your legs, catch your breath, maybe have some food and water. That’s all we can afford to do for now.”

She could tell by the looks on their faces that these instructions were not well received, though no one complained. The shed was aluminum, approximately ten feet by ten feet, set on a concrete platform. The door was open, and it looked like someone had looted the place. Drawers and cabinets were open, a shelf overturned, debris on the floor, but otherwise the interior was empty. Melanie gestured for the others to get inside.

“I’ll keep watch,” Rita said, taking up a position just inside the open door, her rifle at the ready. “I’m not hungry or tired.”

“I can see that,” Melanie replied. “I don’t know where you get all of this energy.”

“Sheer force of will, boss,” Rita said.

Mark cleared a space on the floor, kicking some of the debris into the corners, and sat down. Shona and Nathan joined him, placing a tired Dusty on their laps. Finally, Lizzy and Mr. Turner arrived, and he practically collapsed on the threshold. Rita managed to grab his arm with her free hand and guide him through the door, but then he fell onto his side.

“You’re hurt, Pop,” Melanie said. “What can we do for you?”

“Just give me a few minutes to catch my breath, and I’ll be as good as new.”

“I can get some ibuprofen from the backpack,” Mark said.

“No, no, I’ll be fine,” Mr. Turner said. “I’m not as bad as I seem. Once I get my second wind, I’ll be ready to go. Trust me.”

Rita grabbed the shed door and tried to pull it closed. However, the hinges squealed, and then the door popped out of the frame. It felt into the yard, the sound dampened somewhat by the tall grass.

“Whoever robbed the place must’ve forced the door,” Melanie said. “It’s fine. Everyone, just stay quiet.”

The shed was very dark, at least. Rita was a silhouette in the open door, kneeling with the rifle aimed back across the yard. The others were indistinct shapes. Melanie heard the sound of the backpack zipper, the whisper of a plastic canteen lid being unscrewed. Mr. Turner took a drink. Then Lizzy. She recognized the sound of their swallowing. Mark took a drink, then the canteen was pressed against her hand. Melanie grabbed it, raised it to her lips, and took a drink. Only then did she realize just how parched she was. She was sorely tempted to chug the whole canteen, but she limited herself to a mouthful before handing the canteen back to Mark.

“Surely we lost them by now,” Lizzy said. “Heck, we practically lost ourselves.”

Melanie made a shushing sound. “Let’s keep it down, just in case.”

The ATV engines sounded far away now, but there were other sounds moving through the neighborhood. Melanie could make out what seemed to be footsteps, hushed voices, the occasional slamming door.

Suddenly, she heard a pop and saw a streak of light rise up into the sky. It came from perhaps one block over, tracing an arc above the rooftops. Near its zenith, it passed right over the backyard, and for a moment, everything was bathed in harsh white light. Melanie saw a small deck, broken windows, a back door that was hanging open.

“A flare,” Mr. Turner whispered, still struggling to catch his breath. “They’re looking for us.”

Melanie tracked the flare until its descending arc took it beyond the fence. Suddenly, she heard a voice. It was a single, wordless cry of alarm, and her gaze went to the open gate. She saw the lone figure standing in the middle of the street beyond, bathed in the flickering backwash of the flare’s bright light. He was turned toward them, and Melanie could feel the moment their eyes met.

“I’ve got a clear shot,” Rita said.

“Wait,” Melanie replied. “Don’t give us…”

But then the man cried out, raising both arms over his head and waving them back and forth. “Over here! They’re over here! I found them!”

This was followed by other voices from farther down the street as militiamen began to shout, passing the word along.

“Over here!’

“They’re over here!”

“We got them!”

Somewhere distantly, ATV engines revved.

“Take the shot?” Rita asked.

“Run,” Melanie. “All of you, run!”

However, as she picked herself up, Rita pulled the trigger. The crack of the rifle awakened all of the pain in Melanie’s head, and for a moment, she swooned. However, she reached up and grabbed the doorframe, pulling herself to her feet. Blinking back tears of pain, she stepped outside and ran for the fence on the far side of the yard.

“I’m pretty sure I missed,” Rita replied, coming up beside her. “Damn guy was just too far away. I think I hit the gate instead.”

“Just get over the fence and keep going,” Melanie said, grabbing her forehead.

Melanie approached the fence, but she sensed other light rising somewhere behind them, casting narrow bands across the yard. She planted her foot on the crossbeam and hoisted herself to the top of the fence and dropped onto the other side.

She landed on some solid object, heard a loud metal thud, and rolled off onto the grass. Only afterward did she realize she’d fallen onto the lid of a barbecue grill. Suddenly, a single voice pierced through the night.

“You’re not getting out of this neighborhood,” Sue Ellen cried. She sounded like she was maybe a block away. “There are no roads out that we haven’t covered! Surrender! Release my son! It’s the only way you’re going to live through the night!”

Melanie picked herself up, even as other people dropped over the fence around her. Shona thrust Dusty over the top of the fence into Nathan’s arms. Then she pulled herself over, dropping down last. Melanie took off running across the next yard. A big section of the fence had collapsed, revealing an alleyway that ran along the backs of the properties.

“Nathan, come to me,” Sue Ellen shouted. “Don’t make me harm your friends. It doesn’t have to end badly for them. Step out onto the street and show yourself.”

But Nathan had the dog in his arms, and he was making for the broken fence. Rita was leading the way now since she had the most energy. Melanie just couldn’t keep up with her. She led them through the gap, where they stumbled over fallen and broken boards. Then they turned down the alley. ATV lights were shining through the fence, moving up and down the street beyond the front of the house.

Suddenly, there was a burst of gunfire. Melanie couldn’t tell where it was coming from, so she reached out and put her arm around Shona. Mr. Turner turned and wrapped his arms around Lizzy, and Mark stepped in front of Melanie, as if to shield her. Rita raised her gun and turned, aiming down the dark alleyway. Four shots, then a moment of silence, then three more. This was followed by shouting.

They’re not shooting at us, she thought. This is an exchange of gunfire with locals.

Three more gunshots, a pained wail, another shot.

“The residents are fighting back,” Rita said. “That’s what it is. You keep messing with people and eventually someone’s going to shoot you. That’s a rule of life, boss, and the Wolverines just learned it.”

“Well, that’s a small blessing,” Melanie muttered. “It’ll draw at least some of their attention, but they’re still too close. We shouldn’t have stopped, not even for a minute. Come on.”

She didn’t like running down the alley. All it would take was one ATV to turn the corner and spot them. So she headed up a driveway and entered another backyard. From there, she cut across to the front gate and moved through another yard. This began a zigzag pattern through yards and across streets. Periodically, she heard more gunshots, but they seemed to be getting farther away.

Finally, they rounded a corner, slipped past a high fence, and darkness seemed to break open before them. No more houses. They had reached the edge of the neighborhood. To their right, the street came to a dead end, with a row of reflective markers indicating the possibility of future development. Melanie stumbled to a stop. Rita went a few more steps, edging into what seemed like a well of starless night that lay before them.

“We made it,” Lizzy said, panting as she stumbled up behind Melanie. “That’s the way out right there. We’re in the clear.”

“What’s out there?” Mark asked, adjusting the backpack strap over his good shoulder. As he did, he winced.

Melanie approached the end of the street. As she did, she caught a whiff of something pungent and strangely familiar, an earthy damp smell.

“Do you guys smell that?” she asked.

“Yeah, smells rancid,” Rita said. “So, do we just march out there? I mean, this is the end of the road, boss. No turning back now.”

As if in reply, an ATV engine roared somewhere not so far away. Melanie stepped past the reflectors and waded into the dark. The earthy smell got stronger, and suddenly her right foot came down on dampness. Suddenly, she realized why the smell was so familiar.

“Guys, I think this is a marsh,” she said, “and I think it’s pretty big.”

18

There was just no way to avoid it. They had to leave the neighborhood, and the marsh was the only way forward.

“Be careful where you step,” Melanie said. “There’s a lot of water here.”

“We’re already soaking wet,” Lizzy said. “It won’t make much of a difference. You can’t get any wetter than a hundred percent wet.”

“Yeah, but you can get muddy and slimy,” Melanie replied. “Try not to let that happen. Come on.”

She started forward, stepping carefully. Rita was right beside her, undaunted by the marshy landscape. Dusty thrashed in Nathan’s arms, clearly unwilling to go forward, and he had to wrap his arms tightly around the dog to keep her from escaping. The ground was uneven. It felt like walking on a bunch of large grassy bumps, and there was stagnant water in the dips between. Fortunately, the lateness of the year seemed to have diminished the number of cattails and marsh grasses that might otherwise have been growing there. Still, progress was slow.

Glancing back, Melanie saw the shapes of the others following her. Mr. Turner stumbled at one point and went down on one knee with a splash. Mark eased back and helped him up.

“Be careful,” Melanie said softly. “Now would be a really bad time to twist an ankle.”

“My ankle’s already twisted,” Mr. Turner replied. “I’ve just chosen to ignore it.”

“I could practically swim across at this point,” Lizzy muttered.

Behind them, Melanie saw lights moving back and forth through the neighborhood, shining above rooftops and through fences. Another gunshot seemed to bounce from street to street in a series of echoes. From here, it looked like the militia was well on their way to claiming the entire neighborhood. Had more of them arrived? There were at least a dozen different sets of headlights moving around. Just then, an ATV crossed the street behind them, passing from north to south and quickly disappearing behind a house.

“Okay, everyone try to stay as low as possible,” Melanie said. “Walk hunched over. Make it harder to spot us. The small hills provide a little bit of cover.”

“What if this swamp goes on for miles and miles?” Shona asked.

“Just keep moving forward,” Melanie replied. “Don’t think about the distance.”

However, Melanie peered ahead, trying to make sense of the dark landscape. It was a fruitless endeavor. She stumbled on a rock or root and went to her knees, splashing in the fetid water. Grabbing the strap of her rifle, she picked herself up and kept moving. Suddenly, another flare was fired somewhere in the city, bright light splashing across the marshlands, and Melanie got a clear view of their surroundings.

The ground around them was all grassy bumps with shallow brown water in between. She saw bugs skittering across the surface. Ahead of them, the marsh continued for another hundred yards or so and came to a sudden stop against a dense line of trees.

All of those dense branches and underbrush looked inviting under the circumstances. So many places to hide, so much safety. Just a hundred yards to go.

“We just have to make it to the trees,” she said. “We’ll be safer there. Try to pick up the pace.”

“Mom, we’re going as fast as we can,” Shona said, even as she stumbled and almost went down. “Do you think we’re being slow on purpose? It’s not easy, and it stinks so bad here. Why does it stink?”

“Because all of these little bumps are made from decaying plant matter,” Rita replied. “A marsh is nature’s wastewater treatment plant, filtering all sorts of filth and sediment, and they help reduce flooding during heavy rainstorms.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better about it,” Shona said.

After maybe thirty yards of slogging through the marsh, they reached a small ditch full of murky water that cut across their path. It seemed deep, so they were forced to turn and go around it, which meant walking out of their way.

“We could’ve just stayed in the neighborhood and shot them all,” Rita said with an unhappy grunt. “Would that have been worse than this?”

“Yes,” Melanie replied. “Because they would’ve fired back, and they outnumber us.”

“Superior numbers doesn’t mean superior marksmanship,” Rita grumbled.

Melanie let it go. Hadn’t Rita missed her shot from the shed? No use pointing it out. Everyone was just grumpy, scared, and tired.

Suddenly, Shona went down. Her left foot seemed to sink into the ground a few inches. She stepped to one side to try to recover, bumped into Nathan and Dusty, then went to her hands and knees. She cried out, as if in pain. Melanie tried to rush to her side, but Nathan was already there. He set Dusty down and put his arms around her. Fortunately, the anxious dog just stood on one of the little mounds, looking around at the puddles on every side with dismay.

“Are you okay?” Melanie asked.

Nathan helped Shona get to her feet again, but she sucked in her breath as soon as she put weight on her left foot.

“Stepped in a hole,” she said. “Think I sprained my ankle.”

“I was afraid that might happen,” Melanie said. “It’s dangerous ground, especially in the dark.”

“Are you okay to walk, sweetheart?” Mark asked. “Do we need to carry you?”

Shona took a step, gasped, and took another step. “It hurts, but I can walk on it. Don’t worry about me, Dad. I’ll follow Grandpa’s example. Just keep going.”

“Nathan, help her,” Melanie said. “Let Dusty walk on her own for a while, if she will.”

“I’ve got her,” he replied.

They resumed walking and circled around the big ditch to turn back toward the trees. Shona was moving much slower now, limping slightly. Nathan had his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned on him heavily. Fortunately, Dusty seemed more concerned about being left behind than walking through the puddles at this point, so she followed on Nathan’s heels.

Melanie glanced back at the neighborhood. Spotlights swept through the streets, and she could still hear the roar of ATVs moving back and forth. If just one of those vehicles decided to turn toward the dead end, they were doomed. Ahead, the line of trees was getting very close, and she tried to pick up a little more speed. Mr. Turner and Shona were both dragging badly now. Melanie would have hoisted them over her shoulders, if she could have.

“Almost there,” she said. “Push through the pain.”

“That’s what we’ve been doing for hours now,” Mr. Turner snapped, in a crankier than usual voice. “The whole day has been pushing through pain, not to mention the common sense.”

“Yeah, I know. I know. Keep it up.”

The line of trees drew near, the dense canopy calling to them, offering safety at last. Melanie sensed a spotlight sweeping over the marshlands somewhere off to her left, and she signaled for the others to get down. Then she dropped onto her knees in a puddle and held her breath. Soon, the spotlight swept back the other way, then disappeared.

“Did they see us?” Lizzy asked.

“Not sure,” Melanie replied. “I hope not.”

She resumed moving, breaking into a reckless jog. The terrain beneath her feet was hostile to every step, but she pressed on. And then she felt the ground change beneath her, dampness giving away to firm and rocky land. She’d left the marshland. Without pausing, she crashed through some brush and passed between two large maple trees, letting the wilderness swallow her. They’d made it. They’d escaped. She would have given out a cry of relief if she weren’t afraid of making noise.

19

Finally, they had to dare a little light. The forest was too difficult to navigate in the darkness. Fortunately, Rita was able to produce a small flashlight and cover the bulb with some red tape. It was just enough light to illuminate their way without becoming a beacon for distant eyes.

“How far are we planning to march through the woods, boss?” Rita asked. “Surely we’ve lost the militia by now. They’re still back there searching houses and yards and stuff.”

“Let’s go a little farther,” she replied. “We’ll look for a suitable place to camp for the night, but I’d like to put a bit more distance between us first. Just to be safe.”

“I can’t imagine sleeping out here in the woods,” Lizzy said.

“We have some camping supplies,” Mark pointed out. “All we need is enough open ground for everyone to lie down.”

“No tent or sleeping bags, though,” Lizzy said.

“That’s true, but I think I could sleep on a bed of rocks at this point,” Mark said.

“Well, that’s one of us.”

The ground sloped upward here, though it wasn’t steep. The trees grew close, and underbrush filled most of the gaps. However, using the red light, they were able to pick the easiest path. Even so, they had to stop from time to time and rip through plants in order to continue. Melanie and Rita were in the lead, as usual, with Mark and Lizzy right behind them to help with the clearing.

However, Mr. Turner, Shona, and Nathan were so far back now that Melanie kept losing sight of them. Dusty would periodically run forward, pause, then run back out of sight, as if checking on the lagging group.

Finally, Melanie signaled for Rita to stop then turned and waited. “We can’t let them get too far behind.”

After a moment, Shona and Nathan appeared. She had her right arm propped on his shoulder, and she winced every time she put weight on her left foot. Mr. Turner was behind her, gasping for breath as he hobbled along.

“Shona, you twisted your ankle worse than you let on,” Melanie said.

“It didn’t hurt too bad at first,” Shona replied, gasping again as she put weight on the injured ankle. “I think it’s from walking uphill. But it’s just a sprain, Mom. I’ll be fine. I don’t want to stop.”

“We’ll take a little break, so you and Pop can recover your strength,” Melanie said. “I’d prefer to keep going, but we need to check on that ankle. Maybe a few others could use a break as well.”

“I don’t need a break,” Mr. Turner muttered. “I’m already broken.”

He dabbed his forehead with his sleeve. The poor man seemed to have aged twenty years over the course of the day. He was bent, his gray hair plastered to his skull, his face red and seemingly more wrinkled than before. His eyes were glassy, his mouth hanging open.

“There’s a small clearing up ahead,” Rita said. “Well, it’s more of a slightly less cluttered space than a clearing, but at least people will be able to sit down without breathing each other’s breath.”

“I can make it,” Shona said.

Melanie nodded and pushed on, ripping through some bushes to reach the small clearing. Indeed, it was little more than a patch of rocky ground. Maybe ten feet in diameter, not much more, but at least they could all sit down. Rita took the high ground, planting herself on a fallen log with her rifle across her lap. Lizzy led Mr. Turner to a spot beside the log.

“I’ll break out some food and water,” Mark said, setting the backpack on the ground.

“Do you have anything for Dusty?” Shona asked. Nathan helped her sit down on the fallen log. “She hasn’t eaten anything all day.”

“Yeah, we’ve got a little food for her, too,” Mark replied.

The red glow of the flashlight made the small clearing feel ominous, which intensified Melanie’s anxiety. It was quiet here in the forest, but she kept expecting militiamen to burst out of the shadows. However, she set her fears aside and went to check on her daughter. Her ankle was swollen, and there was no way to be sure that she hadn’t broken any bones. Melanie gave her some ibuprofen from their stash to reduce the swelling.

“It’s not as bad as I feared,” Melanie noted. “I think you’ll recover just fine, but keep leaning on Nathan for support in the meantime. Don’t put your full weight on that foot for a while, if you can help it.”

“I’ll be fine,” Shona replied. “It’s not a big deal, Mom. I just sprained it a little.”

Mark passed around the canteen then handed out some food packets taken from a couple of MREs. Melanie was hungry, but she found it difficult to relax enough to eat. He’d handed her a packet of spaghetti along with a plastic fork, but she just held it for a few minutes. Only when the others were all eating did she finally make herself sit down on the rocks and open the packet.

“Is it safe to assume we finally lost them?” Lizzy asked. “We haven’t heard a peep out of the militia since we entered the forest, and we’ve gone at least a quarter of a mile since then. I don’t see how they could follow us.”

“We haven’t gone a quarter of a mile,” Rita said. “We were moving a lot slower than you realized. At best, we’ve covered maybe two hundred yards since we left the marsh.”

“Still, it’s awfully quiet in here,” Lizzy said, digging into a packet of succotash. “I can’t hear those damned ATVs, or that woman’s terrible voice, or guns, or any of it. I think we’re safe.”

Melanie considered their predicament. Had they, indeed, escaped Sue Ellen and the Wolverines? She decided in that moment to err on the side of optimism. She needed it; they needed it.

“Yeah, I think we might have lost them,” she said. “They’re probably still searching houses, fighting with the locals, shining their spotlights. Even when they find the marsh, there shouldn’t be any evidence that we went that way. Feel free to rest easy.”

At this, Lizzy heaved a great sigh of relief, and her father clapped her on the back. Still, Melanie couldn’t bring herself to feel the relief with them. Even if they got away, the future was so uncertain now that she couldn’t get her mind to settle. They’d fled a maniacal army but only escaped into the wilderness with few supplies and little experience surviving in such places. Where were they to go next? How was she supposed to take care of these people? They all looked to her.

Eventually, these thoughts became too much, and she began to pace in the clearing. People had finished eating, and some were on the verge of falling asleep. She couldn’t let that happen, not here. They weren’t far enough from the enemy.

“I think we’d better get up and get moving again,” she said. “Come on, folks. We didn’t stop here to camp for the night. Resting is one thing, but this isn’t a safe place to sleep. Let’s go.”

Rita hopped right up, hoisting the duffel bag onto her shoulder. “I’m with you, boss. I’d rather walk through the night, get far from here, and sleep when the sun rises.”

“Oh, God, walking all night,” Lizzy muttered, picking herself up. “Can’t we find a cabin or something? This isn’t some untouched wilderness. We’re just outside of town. There’s got to be a safe place to sleep for the night somewhere around here.”

“Maybe, but we can’t count on it,” Melanie said. “Everyone, get up. Let’s go. I know it’s tough, guys, but this is what we have to do.”

“Nice pep talk, Mel,” Lizzy said with a laugh. “I feel positively inspired.”

“Oh, stop,” Melanie replied.

Mark gathered up the food packaging waste, as Mr. Turner struggled to stand. Nathan helped Shona. As for Dusty, the dog had fallen asleep after eating a little dried meat, but she awoke with a snort and rose.

“Careful on that foot, Shona,” Melanie said. “Like I said before, try not to put your full weight on it.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” she replied.

“Pop, same goes for you.”

Mr. Turner waved her off. “I’m okay. I’m just old.”

And with that, Melanie turned and headed off, aiming to go southeast—though she wasn’t entirely sure of their direction. Rita aimed the flashlight ahead of them, but Melanie promptly walked right into a low-lying tree limb. It smacked her in the cheek, and she stumbled backward into the arms of her husband.

“Careful,” Mark said. “You don’t want to lose an eye.”

“You know, I’m a city girl,” Melanie replied, rubbing her cheek. That felt like it was going to be another bruise. “I know how to survive in the streets. If we were trapped in downtown Knoxville, I’d be in my element, but this wilderness survival business is not for me.”

“We’ll be fine,” Mark said. “It’s not all up to you, honey. We’re in this together.”

You say that, Melanie thought, but everyone looks to me. They expect me to know what to do.

She ducked under the branch and resumed walking. They continued up the gradual slope, weaving through the trees. The dim red light wasn’t enough to really see where they were going. Melanie was tempted to rip the tape off, but she feared a bright light might give their position away and ruin their night vision.

They’d walked maybe another fifty or sixty yards when a terrible sound rolled through the forest. It was a high-pitched voice, a scream of some kind. It went on for a few seconds, then tapered off.

“Oh my gosh, what was that?” Lizzy said. “It sounded like a ghost. Is it a ghost? I wouldn’t be surprised at this point.”

“It sounded a lot like a baby crying,” Melanie said. “Maybe someone abandoned it in the woods somewhere nearby? Desperate people do terrible things sometimes.”

“No, it wasn’t a baby,” Nathan replied. He was practically carrying Shona at this point, but he didn’t seem to mind. “That was just a fox. That’s what they sound like.”

“Are you sure?” Melanie asked.

“Yeah, I’m positive. That was the cry of a fox. Trust me.”

She looked at him, but his expression was hard to read in the dim light. Still, he seemed confident about this.

“How do you know?” Melanie asked him.

He hesitated a moment before saying, “I know a lot about wilderness survival stuff. Some of it came from my parents, especially my mom. They both liked hunting, so they taught me stuff about wild animals. The rest I’ve picked up from books.”

“I didn’t realize that,” Melanie said. “You didn’t tell us you had wilderness survival knowledge. Nathan, your expertise will come in handy. Speak up anytime something comes to mind, okay? The rest of us are pretty lost out here.”

“Okay, sure,” he said. “Well, tip number one, if it sounds like a baby crying, it might be a fox.”

Melanie wasn’t sure if it was sarcasm or a lame attempt at a joke. However, she scarcely had time to consider it. Something moved in the brush nearby, and she caught a glimpse of a quick pale shape. Rita saw it as well and immediately raised her rifle at it.

“No, don’t shoot,” Melanie said. “It’ll make too much noise.”

“We could use the fresh meat,” Rita replied. “Assuming it’s something worth eating.”

Whatever it was, it wasn’t very big. Melanie could only see a hint of some furry side through the brush.

“We can’t take the risk,” she said. “Don’t shoot it.”

But Lizzy stepped in front of her then, swinging her arm as if trying to shoo the animal away. Melanie saw a small object leave Lizzy’s hand. It flew through the bushes, just as the animal tried to flee. The rock hit it hard, made a dull thud, and bounced away. And the animal flopped onto its side and moved no more.

“Wow, good aim with that rock,” Rita said.

“Eh, three years of fast-pitch softball in high school,” Lizzy said. “I guess a little bit of muscle memory still exists in there somewhere.”

Mark was closest to the bushes, so he bent down and grabbed the animal. When he hoisted it up, they saw it was a rather large rabbit. The rock had nailed it right between the ears; it was clearly dead.

“It’ll make a nice meal later,” Rita said. “I guess we can survive in these woods better than we thought we could. As long as Babe Ruth over there can keep killing things with her fastball, we should be good to go.”

“It’ll help, but it’s not enough,” Melanie said. “We need more than a little meat to survive here long-term. We can’t sleep in trees. Our ancestors gave that up tens of thousands of years ago. No, we need a place we can call home. I don’t know what that’s going to be, and I don’t know where that’s going to be. I wish to God we could find another factory, but the chances of that are slim as long as we’re trekking through the woods.”

“If we found another factory, it would almost certainly be occupied. Don’t you think?” Mr. Turner noted, in a breathless voice. “We’d be the barbarians at the gate, instead of the other way around.”

“I don’t want that,” Melanie said. “We’re not taking a place by force. We need an unoccupied location. Mark, can you bring the rabbit? We’ll clean it later. Let’s go.”

“I’ve got it,” he said.

They resumed the endless trudge, ripping through bushes, seeking gaps between trees. The slope leveled off, then descended for a while. After an hour or two, Melanie was in a stupor, half-conscious, still putting one foot in front of the other only by sheer instinct. Eventually, as if she were emerging from a dark dream, the forest appeared around them as morning sunlight shone down through the branches.

They had, indeed, walked all night. Melanie glanced at the others and saw a bleary-eyed bunch stumbling along like zombies. Even Rita had finally run out of energy, and she walked with her head bowed, arms hanging down, eyes half-lidded.

“I think I lost a few hours there,” Melanie noted. “I might have been sleepwalking. Does anyone know how far we’ve come, or how long we walked?”

No one responded, though they kept walking. Maybe they were all sleepwalking, even poor Dusty, who had stayed dutifully beside Shona and Nathan all through the night. Melanie realized then that she could see big gaps in the trees ahead. As she drew near, it became clear that the forest opened up into a big open space.

When she stepped through the gap, she found them in a small valley, with a muddy creek just barely trickling down the rocks. Tucked on a rocky shelf above the water was a small camp comprised of a ramshackle cabin in very poor shape, a broken wooden wagon, and scattered tools. Melanie came to a stop and thrust her arms out to either side to stop the others.

“Guys, wake up,” she said. “We’ve found some kind of campsite.”

The cabin didn’t seem to have been occupied for a long time. One whole wall had collapsed, and the interior had been largely consumed by nature. However, Melanie saw what appeared to be the residue of a more recent firepit nearby. A couple of small stools and a log had been set around the firepit. Melanie came to a stop, stifling a massive yawn that made her whole body shudder.

“Too bad this place is such a dump,” Rita said, coming up beside her. “If I had the right tools, and enough time, I could really spruce this place up. That cabin is not beyond repair, but it’d take a lot of work.”

“Well, I didn’t plan to settle here,” Melanie said. “It might be a suitable place to sleep for a few hours.”

“We can roast that bunny while we’re here,” Rita said, “add the meat to some MRE garbage and eat something that looks like a real meal. What do you say, boss?”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Melanie replied.

Mark appeared next, still lugging both the backpack and the rabbit carcass. He had a glazed look on his face, blinking rapidly as he looked around, as if he weren’t sure the camp was real.

“What’s this place?” he said, dreamily. “Is it suitable for humans?”

“There’s fresh water,” Melanie noted. “A place for a fire. The ground seems soft enough for sleeping. I think this is as good a place as we can hope for. Let’s settle in.”

“How long do you think it’s been since anyone stayed here?” Lizzy asked, rubbing her cheeks with her hands.

“Weeks, maybe months, judging by the old ashes in the firepit,” Melanie replied. “Not any more recent than that. We should be safe enough.”

“I’d hate for some wild mountain man to come creeping out of the woods,” Lizzy said. “‘This is me home, you urban filth! Get out or I eat ye.’ You know?”

“That’s probably not going to happen,” Melanie said. “Rest easy, Liz.”

Nathan and Shona appeared in the clearing then, and he immediately led her toward the firepit. As he went, he looked over his shoulder and said, “We can’t drink that creek water unless we boil it. It might look okay, but it’s not safe.”

At the firepit, he eased Shona down onto one of the stools with a groan, grabbing at her leg.

“Shona, how’s your ankle?” Melanie asked.

“More annoying than painful,” Shona replied. “I think it’s still a little swollen, too.”

Mr. Turner appeared last, breathing hard as he entered the clearing. He sniffed, rubbed his face with his hands, and looked around. Seeing the firepit, he made his way over to it and eased himself onto one end of the log.

“Mark, can you check on Shona’s ankle and maybe wrap it? Rita, you find a way to stash our supplies within easy reach. Lizzy, you come with me. We’re going to set up a place where people can sleep.”

“What about me?” Mr. Turner croaked.

“Pop, you take it easy for now,” Melanie replied.

“I don’t want to be useless,” he said, pushing his long wispy hair back from his forehead.

“You’re keeping an eye on things,” Melanie said. “That’s your job for now. If you hear anything unusual, you let us know. That’ll be enough.”

“You got it.” He pulled the AR-15 off his shoulder, planted the butt against the ground, and held it there.

“The rest of you, get to work, please.”

Despite the long night and lack of sleep, the prospect of having a semi-safe place to settle down energized the group, and they went to work. Rita took stock of their supplies, unloading the backpack and duffel bag under the intact portion of the roof inside the small cabin. It was only a shame that they hadn’t taken more of the outdoor supplies from the factory. Melanie thought of all the tents, sleeping cabins, cooking gear, and camping tools that had been left sitting on the shelves in the supply closet, and it made her sick. They’d brought guns, food, a few tools, and plenty of medical supplies. They even had a pack of foil emergency blankets. But what would they do if the weather turned bad? What would they do in a thunderstorm?

No sense worrying about things I can’t change, she told herself.

The cabin proved to be in worse shape than it appeared. Roots had broken through the floorboards, and vines had consumed the meager furniture inside. It wasn’t a suitable place to rest. Fortunately, the weather was cool and dry, with hardly a cloud in the sky, so Melanie began setting up a sleeping place beside a large, shady oak tree. Lizzy helped her clear the ground. Then they unfolded a tarp and weighed it down at the corners with large rocks.

“That’s not a good place to sleep,” Nathan said. He had taken it upon himself to begin carving a makeshift crutch from a large fallen branch. As he did that, Mark worked on wrapping Shona’s swollen ankle. “You don’t want to sleep under that big tree, ma’am.”

“Why not?” Melanie said. “This big tree will provide some shelter from the wind.”

Nathan used the long crutch to point up high in the tree. “Well, do you see that big limb up there? It’s rotten. You can tell because it’s discolored. They call that a widow maker.”

Melanie glanced up. The tree trunk had grown at a slight angle, leaning out over the clearing. About ten feet up, a huge branch was thrust out above the sleeping area. The thing was practically the size of a small tree itself. However, it had no leaves, and as Nathan had pointed out, the bark was quite a bit darker than the rest of the tree. Still, Melanie would not have known it was rotten.

“I’m telling you, a strong breeze could knock it loose,” Nathan said. “If it fell and you were lying there, it would crush your skull like a pear. You never camp under big trees like that, especially if they’ve got dead branches. It’s safer to move out into the open somewhere. If the wind is a problem, we can create a shelter using the tarp or a blanket or something.”

“Kid, you’re a font of knowledge,” Mr. Turner said. “I had no idea. Heck, the whole time we were in the factory, I didn’t hear you say more than maybe ten words, and usually only in response to a question. You should speak up more. Sounds like you’ve got a lot of worthwhile things to say.”

“Well, thanks, but…I haven’t really been in the mood to talk,” he replied. “I’m still not, but I’m trying to help.”

“Thanks for the advice, Nathan,” Melanie said. She nodded at Lizzy. “Okay, let’s move the tarp out into the open. We don’t want to sleep under any widow makers.”

“It would be a damn shame to escape an armed militia just to be killed by a tree branch,” Lizzy said. “My ghost would be furious at the irony of it. She’d have to haunt these woods for a thousand years just to spite the trees.”

They decided to place the sleeping area in the open space between the cabin and the firepit. It took quite a bit of work to clear the ground of rocks and debris. Once they were done, they had a space that was large enough to accommodate the entire to group.

“The good news is, we can sleep now,” Melanie announced to the group. “Unfortunately, our bed is only a tarp. We can use the foil emergency blankets, but there are no pillows, no padding. I think the cabin will block most of the wind. Anyway, hopefully it’s enough. Now, the question is, do you guys want to make dinner first, or do you want to sleep first?”

“Sleep,” Shona said.

“God, yes,” Lizzy added. “Sleep!”

Mark and Mr. Turner nodded. Nathan shrugged, as if he didn’t care one way or the other.

“Okay, we’ll sleep first, then,” Melanie said. “Find a spot and make yourselves comfortable.”

Mr. Turner was the first to walk over and lie down. He selected a spot at the edge of the tarp, unfolding one of the silver emergency blankets and pulling it over him.

“Hey, boss, don’t you think we ought to have someone keeping watch?” Rita said, stepping out of the cabin.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Melanie said.

“Great,” Rita said. “I’ll take first watch.” She patted the strap of her rifle.

“You’re not tired?” Melanie asked.

“Oh, heck, yeah,” Rita replied, “but I don’t know if I can settle down just yet. I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“I trust you,” Melanie replied. “Wake me up in a couple of hours, and I’ll take over.”

“A couple of hours?” Mark said. “Are you sure that’s all you need?”

She nodded. “It’ll be enough for now.”

Lizzy lay down beside her father. Then Mark took a spot on the other side of the tarp. Nathan and Shona lay down next, and Dusty curled up at their feet. That left Rita and Melanie.

“I’ve got this, boss,” Rita said. “Don’t worry about it. Go to sleep. You’ve earned it.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

“You got us safely out of the factory, through the blockade, and out of that neighborhood,” Rita said. “That was mostly due to your leadership, boss. Give yourself some credit.”

“I think it was a team effort, but I appreciate the sentiment, Rita.”

Melanie lay down between her husband and her daughter. The ground was hard and unyielding, but at least there were no roots or rocks. She pulled a blanket over her and tucked in the edges. Rita sat down on the log beside the firepit, facing toward the trees in the direction they’d come from, her rifle laid across her lap.

And Melanie’s last thought before falling asleep was the realization that she had no idea where they were. No map, no GPS, no compass. They’d meandered all night long, so she didn’t think they could find their way back, even if they’d wanted to. They were lost.

20

“Couldn’t we just stay right here?” Shona asked. “It’s a nice enough place. Feels sort of peaceful. Don’t you think so, Mom?”

Melanie stood in the sunlight, squinting against a bright beam that felt like it was stabbing through her skull. She hadn’t slept well. Although she had initially drifted off to sleep, the enormous widow maker had indeed crashed down a short time later and jolted her awake. After that, she’d spent the rest of the night anxious and unable to go back to sleep. She’d taken watch for a few hours, but the time had passed without incident.

“Over time, we could fix this place up,” Shona added. “Don’t you think so?”

Melanie walked over to the firepit and sat down on a stool. She was waiting for a fresh pot of water to boil. The residue of their breakfast—mostly rabbit bones—was lying nearby. Rita was also awake, sitting on a step of the cabin. She had the duffel bag on her lap.

“Shona, we don’t really have the resources right now to make this place livable,” Melanie said. “We’ve got enough food for a few days, and then we’ll have to move on.”

“We have a water supply right there,” Shona said, pointing at the creek.

“Yes, there’s water here, but it’s a very small creek. It’s almost dried up, and what do we do if it stops flowing? Anyway, that doesn’t take care of the food problem.”

“We can kill more rabbits,” Shona said.

Nathan was walking with Dusty around the perimeter of the clearing. Shona had followed him for a little while, but her ankle was still bothering her. Finally, she’d resigned herself to sitting on the fallen log.

“There’s not enough wildlife in this part of the forest to keep seven people and a dog alive for a long period of time,” Melanie said. “We’ll starve. No, Shona, this camp was a good place to rest for the night, but we have to press on.”

With an expulsive breath, Rita set the duffel bag aside, rose, and stepped away from the cabin. “Well, I searched every nook and cranny of the backpack, and I dug through the duffel bag again. We didn’t bring a compass with us, boss. Sorry. We brought plenty of other crap, but not a compass.”

“There were so many of them in that supply closet,” Melanie said with a sigh.

“We were kind of in a rush when we packed,” Rita reminded her.

“Yeah, I know.” The water had been boiling for a few minutes, so she rose and approached the firepit. Using a scrap of an old rag, she lifted the pot from the fire and set it to one side to cool. “This should be safe to drink soon.”

“Do we need a compass, really?” It was Lizzy. She’d gone off behind some trees to relieve herself. Walking back into camp, she looked rough. Her shoulder-length blond hair was in wild disarray, her pants muddy up to mid-thigh, her shirt rumpled and stained. “We’re just marching into the mountains. Does it matter which direction we’re headed?”

Melanie glanced skyward. The canopy of limbs stretched out wide, leaving only a small gap in the middle. “We’ll get turned around in the woods without a compass. The last thing we want to do is inadvertently double back and run right into the militia. We need to keep heading south or southeast.”

Mr. Turner gave a loud groan as he sat up. Sleeping on tarps on the cold ground with no pillows had been a miserable experience, and Melanie could see in his haggard face that it hadn’t done him much good. After breakfast, he’d lain down again, but he hadn’t managed to fall asleep. He scratched furiously at his gray beard with both hands.

“Before we entered that neighborhood, we were driving due south,” he said, in a sleepy croak, “and I’m pretty sure we left the neighborhood last night heading south. Unless we got turned around in the woods last night, we should still be heading south.”

“It feels like south to me,” Lizzy said.

Nathan was walking past the firepit again, leading Dusty on her third lap. The dog seemed to be working out all of the tension and anxiety of the previous days, getting some of her old vitality back.

“Sun rises in the east,” Nathan said, “so if we just keep it on the left-hand side this morning, we’ll be heading the right way. Even in the woods, there should be enough gaps above us to gauge its position.”

Unlike most of the others, Nathan seemed rather energized this morning. He’d washed his face, hands, and even his hair in the creek as well, so he looked fresh and clean.

Relieved to get away from the militia, Melanie thought. From his mother. It really is like the kid escaped a strange religious cult. Well, at least one person in this group isn’t filled with despair about the future.

“You’re right, of course, Nathan,” Melanie told him. “As long as we can see the sun from time to time, we can keep moving south.” She unscrewed the cap on one of the canteens and placed a small plastic funnel into the opening.

“But why south?” Shona said, massaging her left leg just above the sprained ankle. Her shoe and sock were off, and the ankle appeared less swollen this morning. “That’ll take us deeper into the Smoky Mountains, but why? Where are we going, Mom?”

Mark was now awake as well, and he approached the firepit, sitting down beside Melanie. “Mountains are going to be awfully cold in the winter,” he said. “Plus, we’re not the only apex predators around here. We will have to worry about black bears.”

He held the canteen while she poured water from the pot into the funnel.

“We fled into the forest to hide from the militia,” Melanie said. “I didn’t intend for us to settle down in the wilderness. Even with Nathan’s expertise, I doubt we’d last long. No, the way I see it, we’re just passing through.”

“But passing through to where?” Shona asked.

“Until we find a place to call our own,” Melanie replied. “I don’t know yet what that will be, but if we keep heading south, we’ll eventually reach warmer climates where we won’t have to worry about a bad winter. Who knows? We may run across an abandoned farmstead. You just never know.”

She looked from face to face, and she could tell none of them were all that confident about finding a new place. They were, after all, just as likely to meet hostile residents.

“Look, it’s not a great plan, I know that,” Melanie said. “But it is a plan, and it’ll have to do.” She finished filling up the canteen and screwed on the lid.

“You’re the boss, boss,” Rita said, stuffing their gear back into the duffel bag. “If you say head south, we go south. It’s not like any of us has a better idea.”

The silence that followed confirmed this. Melanie filled up the second canteen and handed it to Mark. Then she took the pot and the other canteen and brought them to Rita.

“Since everyone’s awake now, I suppose we’d better head out,” she said, handing them to Rita.

“What about breakfast?” Mr. Turner said. “That rabbit wasn’t more than about two bites per person.”

“Grab a packet of crackers, if you’re still hungry,” Melanie said. She picked up her rifle and slung it over her shoulder. “We’re eating lightly for now. We need to make the supplies last until we get access to a lot more food.”

“I can wait, if it’s better,” he said. “Let’s get wherever we’re going.”

It was a sluggish crew that broke camp that morning. Mark put out the fire and poured creek water on the ashes. Rita brought their gear from the cabin. Mr. Turner grabbed the backpack. Shona picked up the crude crutch Nathan had made her and tucked it under her arm. Lizzy gathered up the tarps from their sleeping area.

Once they were all packed, and the camp cleared, Melanie set off across the clearing, keeping the sun on her left-hand side. The others fell in behind her. She set a pace that was suitable for Shona, but the crutch wasn’t much help. The forest didn’t look quite so impassable in the bright morning sunlight, and Melanie was able to pick out a clear enough path, avoiding dense underbrush while keeping them pointed in what seemed to be the right direction.

If it hadn’t been for their circumstances, it might have been a nice walk. The weather was cool but not cold, the slope ascending but not too steep. And since there wasn’t an enemy breathing down their necks at the moment, Melanie was able to relax somewhat. Yes, her head still hurt, and she was sore, but the walk worked out some of the worst stiffness that had developed overnight.

“You know, it does look quite lovely here,” Mr. Turner said. “Reminds me of my old hunting trips. We’ve got a nice carpet of fallen leaves to cushion our footsteps, and the temperature is just right. An EMP might ruin civilization, but it can’t touch the forest.”

“I’d rather be back in the factory,” Shona said, “sitting in the library room. Now those militia people are going to root through all of our stuff and mess with it.”

“It could be a whole lot worse, kid,” Rita said. “Trust me. I encountered some desperate people living out on the highway before I joined up with you guys. There are people living worse than animals these days.”

Let’s just hope that won’t be us soon, Melanie thought, because we’re not that far away.

As the morning wore on, the quality of the light changed, shadows diminishing, as they approached noon. They weren’t moving particularly fast, but at least it was steady. Gradually, Melanie became aware of some shadow growing before them, stretching out in the gaps between trees.

“Why does it seem like we’re approaching the edge of the world?” Shona wondered aloud. “It looks dark ahead.”

“It’s like we’re approaching an enormous wall,” Mr. Turner said.

Indeed, the shadow gradually revealed itself to be a sheer rock wall. They stepped into a clearing, where the ground was almost entirely rocks, and saw the imposing edifice rising up before them, thirty or forty feet. It was bare rock with an uneven surface, and high above, trees peeked over the edge of a cliff. Melanie came to a stop, waiting for the others to catch up.

“You’ve got to me kidding me,” she muttered.

Lizzy stepped up beside her, dragging her fingers through her messy hair. “Who plopped this wall right in front of us? It’s like nature is mocking us. Can we go around it?”

Melanie looked left and right, but the sheer rock wall stretched out on either side as far as the eye could see. Not only so, but there was no easy way up, no path carved into the rocks.

“The Smoky Mountains have officially begun,” Rita said, her hands on her hips. “Boss, let me get a bird’s eye view and see if we can change course.”

“How do you intend to do that?” Melanie asked.

“Watch and see.” And with that, Rita turned, approached the nearest tree, and grabbed a big limb. It was an enormous magnolia tree with close-grown branches, but Rita pulled herself up with little problem.

“Be careful,” Melanie said. “If you fall…”

“I won’t fall,” Rita replied.

Rita soon disappeared into the dense cluster of branches, but Melanie heard her scrambling from branch to branch, humming under her breath as she went. How was she having so much fun? Didn’t she realize how bleak things had become for them?

“Looks like she’s climbed a few trees in her lifetime,” Lizzy noted.

Rita was up in the tree for a few minutes. They couldn’t see her from below. Finally, she began descending, then hopped out of the tree and landed on the rocks in front of the group.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Melanie said. “I take it you have some experience climbing.”

Rita picked a few stray leaves out of her short black hair. She was a wiry, muscled woman, with hardly any fat. She had the rough hands of a hard worker, and she generally moved with confidence in her body. It wasn’t a big surprise that she could climb trees like a professional.

“Oh, when I was little, I climbed all kinds of things,” Rita said, waving off Melanie’s comment. “Trees, buildings, gravel piles, telephone poles. My friends and I even formed a neighborhood group called ‘The Climbers/Leapers Club.’ It lasted a few years, until Charissa jumped off a shed roof and broke her leg, and our parents collectively put an end to it. Anyway, it’s not hard. You just need good balance and a little upper body strength.”

“What did you see up there?” Melanie asked.

“Well, sorry to say, boss, but this damn rock wall never ends,” Rita replied. “It just goes on and on in both directions as far as the eye can see. If you’re really determined to keep heading south, it looks like we’re in for a rather challenging climb. What do you think?”

“That’s not going to happen,” Shona muttered. “I can barely walk, much less climb a cliff.”

“We can go around,” Melanie said, “even if it takes a while. It can’t go on forever.”

“Based on what I saw, it goes on for miles and miles,” Rita said.

“Well, maybe we’ll adjust direction and deal with it. There’s no way we’re all climbing.”

She felt a hand on her back as Mark stepped up. He had the backpack in his other hand. “Now, honey, let’s not abandon our grand plan just yet. Did you forget I used to climb the rock wall in the gym at college almost every day? The VOL Wall at the University of Tennessee. It was challenging, but it was so much better than lifting weights or riding stationary bikes.”

“Mark, it’s been a while since you were in college,” she said. “We have no safety equipment.”

He set the backpack on the ground and fished around inside, pulling out a large rolled length of nylon rope. “We have a nice, sturdy rope.”

“That won’t help you get to the top,” she said.

“No, but it’ll help everyone else,” he said. He pulled one end of the rope loose and tied it to his belt, then approached the rock wall. “It’s gotta be about thirty feet, not that tall. I can make it. There are plenty of trees up there to tie off the rope.”

Rita was beaming at him, and when he looked back, she gave him a thumbs-up. Clearly, she approved, but Melanie felt dread. She hated taking risks out here in the wild. If Mark fell and got seriously injured, they might not be able to help him. There was no emergency service. No one was coming to fly him out of here if he broke a leg.

“Mark, we really don’t need to do this,” she said. “What about your injury? Your shoulder never healed right.”

He gave her a big smile. “Honey, I’ve got this. My shoulder is uncomfortable sometimes, but it works just fine. Trust me. I want to do this. I won’t fall.”

“Be careful, Dad,” Shona said.

He nodded, then turned and began his ascent. He wanted to do this. That comment struck Melanie. What was behind it? Perhaps he felt like he hadn’t done enough in the past few days. He’d mostly just been along for the ride. Did he see this as his chance to step up and make a difference? Melanie didn’t know for sure, but she wished he’d chosen another time, and a safer activity, to become a hero.

“Take it slow and easy,” she said. “We’re not in a rush.”

“You got it, babe,” he replied, beaming at her.

He found a handhold and pulled himself up, planting the toe of his right shoe into a crack and using it to boost himself higher. Melanie watched anxiously from below, pacing back and forth as he slowly picked his way up the steep slope. Ten feet up, he grabbed a protruding rock, and it broke loose. For one awful second, he was hanging by a single hand, as the large rock tumbled down to the clearing.

Melanie and Rita both had to step aside to avoid the rock as it bounded past them and flew into the trunk of the magnolia tree with an echoing thud.

“Sorry about that,” Mark shouted from above. He managed to get the side of his right foot onto a narrow ledge, then reached up with his other hand and wedged a finger into a crack. “Watch out for falling rocks.”

“I’m more worried about falling husbands,” Melanie called back. “You need to be more careful.”

“Yeah, the handholds on the VOL Wall didn’t break away like that,” he noted.

He reached for a higher rock and tested his weight on it for a second. Then he pulled himself up. He was close to the halfway point now, but moving just a little faster than Melanie thought was necessary. His left foot kicked loose another rock and sent it tumbling down.

“Careful below,” he shouted.

The rock hit the wall and deflected at an angle, coming straight for Melanie. She ducked and lunged to the right, and it flew just over her left shoulder and crashed through the branches of another tree. Mark was near the top now, at least. Indeed, if he’d meant to impress his family, he had succeeded. Despite a few hiccups, he was scrambling up the sheer rock wall with surprising nimbleness.

Since his injury, Melanie had come to think of him as frail, suffering, someone who needed to be protected. Maybe it was that exact image that he’d hoped to subvert. If so, he’d done it. Melanie glanced to her left and saw Shona staring up at her father with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open.

“He’s a pretty good climber,” Nathan said. “I had no idea.”

“Dad never told us he was this good,” Shona said.

Finally, Mark reached the top of the cliff, but here he got stuck for a few seconds. The roots of a big tree were hanging out over the edge, too smooth to make easy handholds. He made a few grabs at the roots, then seemed to reconsider. In the end, he had to shift a couple of feet to his left, picking along the rocks. Then he was able to reach his right hand up over the edge of the cliff and grab something on top.

Melanie was tempted to yell some advice, some encouragement—maybe just a hearty, “Please, for God’s sake, slow down. Don’t lose it now.” But she was afraid it might distract him, so she bit her tongue. Slowly, achingly, Mark pulled himself up onto the top of the cliff and dragged himself forward, inch by inch, until finally it was just the soles of his shoes sticking over the edge.

“I’m good,” he shouted. “It’s safe up here.”

He reappeared, leaning against a tree as he leaned out over the drop. Then he waved down at them. Shona returned the wave, and Rita gave him a round of applause.

“Good climbing,” she said.

“Don’t lean over the edge,” Melanie called up.

Mark was huffing and puffing. Though he’d made it up the cliff, clearly it had been a lot more difficult than it looked. He tipped Melanie a little salute, then began unwinding the long length of nylon rope. He tied one end around the nearest tree, tested the knots, then tossed the other end of the rope over the cliff. It fell, unraveling as it went, and finally flopped into the rocks at their feet.

Rita bent down and picked it up, then turned to the others. “Well, there you go. Who wants to climb next? Personally, I don’t need the rope, but I guess some of you might.”

“Using a rope doesn’t seem much easier than not using a rope,” Shona said, hobbling forward on her crutch. “What are we supposed to do?”

Melanie tried to envision some way of creating a harness that they could use to pull Shona up the cliff. Maybe heading due south wasn’t so important, after all. All of this risk made due west seem like a perfectly suitable alternative.

“Well, I think…”

A strange sound arose from somewhere in the woods nearby. She knew it right away, and she spun around. The clop of hooves on hard ground, the rustling of reins, and the soft snort of a horse.

21

“Is that a horse?” Mr. Turner said, just a little too loudly.

Melanie tapped a finger to her lips and strained to listen. While the sounds of the horse were distinct, she couldn’t tell how close it was. She scanned the gaps between the trees and didn’t see any sign of its approach. There were other sounds, possibly footsteps, maybe voices. Many of them. And in that moment, she felt a little flutter of fear and certainty.

“It’s them,” she said.

“The militia?” Lizzy said, whirling around to face the trees and reaching for the rifle over her shoulder. “On horses now? How do you know?”

“Call it instinct,” Melanie replied. “A gut reaction. It’s them. They couldn’t get their vehicles into the woods, so they got a horse somewhere, and the rest of them are on foot. That’s what I think.”

Shona whimpered and backed away from the trees. “How did they find us? How could they even know we came this way?”

“No idea,” Melanie said. “Doesn’t matter. We have to get everyone and everything up on top of the cliff. Otherwise, we’re doomed. We’re not going to win a gunfight with that many trained militiamen in a place like this.”

Rita held up the end of the nylon rope. “Here you go, folks. Start climbing.”

Melanie made a desperate spinning gesture with her hands. “Come on. Let’s go. Nathan and Shona, you’re up first.”

“I can’t climb fast enough with this aching foot,” Shona said. “And what about Dusty? How do we get a dog up there?”

Rita beckoned her. “Just get over here, kiddo. I’m your resident knot-tyer. I’ll get you and the dog up that cliff safe and sound.” She began looping the end of the rope, tying it together in a complicated series of knots to create a sling.

“Is it safe?” Shona said.

“Oh, yeah,” Rita replied. “Tell me, have I ever let you folks down?”

Shona seemed to consider this question for a moment, then shook her head and said, “No, I guess not.”

“Exactly. If I say it’ll be safe and sound, I mean it.”

Rita held up the sling she’d created. It seemed designed to fit around the hips, with a hole for each leg. Not the most comfortable contraption, but sturdy and functional. If not for the approaching militia, Melanie would have balked, but they had no choice. She stepped up and helped Shona get into the sling one leg at a time. Once she was in place, Shona held the rope with one hand, the crutch with the other. Then Rita looked up at Mark and gave him an OK sign with her fingers.

“Shona, hold on tight,” Melanie said. “Dad’s got you.”

Shona grimaced and tightened her grip as Mark began pulling the rope up the cliffside. Fortunately, Mark was strong enough, and Shona small enough, that he was able to whisk her up quickly, as she stifled a squeal of fear. Then he pulled her onto the cliff and tossed the rope back down.

“We need to do this quickly,” Melanie said. The sound of the horse was getting louder, and now she was certain that there were many people walking with it. This was a large force of some kind. She looked over her shoulder, but there was still no sign of them.

When she turned back around, Nathan and Dusty were on their way up. Rita had fitted the dog into the sling, while Nathan held the rope in his hands. As they were hoisted up the cliff, Lizzy and Mr. Turner approached the wall, clearly anxious to get up there fast. Mark had left the backpack at the bottom of the cliff, and Mr. Turner now had the strap over his shoulder.

“Pop, let’s send up the gear separately,” Melanie said. “That strap might slip off your shoulder.”

The horse whinnied loudly, and someone shouted, the voice echoing far and wide. It sounded a lot like Sue Ellen’s voice, though she wasn’t using her megaphone.

“We’re cutting it damn close here,” Rita muttered. “Less talk, more climb.”

Mr. Turner took the backpack off and handed it to Rita, and she set about tying it to the rope above the sling. Then Mr. Turner put his legs through the holes. As Mark started to pull them both up, he gave a loud grunt from the effort. Nathan appeared beside him and helped pull at the rope.

As he was ascending, Mr. Turner began trying to press his legs against the rocks, apparently nervous about dangling from the rope. His heel kicked a small rock loose and sent it tumbling down, and the sound echoed against the cliff face. Melanie winced.

“We’re making too damn much noise,” she muttered. “There’s no way they didn’t hear that.”

After pulling Mr. Turner onto the cliff, Mark tossed the rope down again. It was Lizzy’s turn now. They were working as fast as they could, but it felt too slow. Excruciating. Melanie took the rifle off her shoulder and held it in her hands. The horse whinnied. Melanie traded an anxious look with Rita as Lizzy was hoisted up the cliff.

“It’s down to you and me, boss,” Rita said. “Personally, I don’t need the rope, so why don’t you take it, and I’ll clamber up the rocks on my own.”

“That seems like an unnecessary risk,” Melanie said, taking the sling from her hands.

“Not really.” Rita gave her a big grin, which made her seem boyish and young. She was enjoying this all just a little too much.

“Well, let’s at least send the duffel bag up with me,” Melanie said, stooping down to grab the handles. She handed it to Rita. “Hurry.”

Rita proceeded to tie the handles to the rope. And in that moment, the sounds of the horse changed, the clopping of hooves becoming fast and frantic. It had broken into a gallop.

“Rita, start climbing,” Melanie said. “Right now. It’s going to take you longer. Go!”

Rita had just finished tying the duffel bag handles. She looked like she wanted to double-check them, but she glanced past Melanie’s shoulder, nodded, and turned toward the cliff. As she started up, picking her way from rock to rock, testing her weight as she went, Melanie slipped her legs through the sling. She was forced to put the rifle strap back over her shoulder in order to hold the rope. It felt flimsy and dangerous, and as soon as Mark pulled on the rope, it went taut in a very uncomfortable way against her inner thighs.

“There! There!”

Sue Ellen’s voice! Melanie turned and gazed into the woods. It took a moment of scanning, but then she saw it, a dark shape in the distance moving through gaps in the branches.

These guys are persistent, she thought. Don’t they ever give up?

Suddenly, she was hoisted off the ground, and the sling became significantly more unpleasant. Dangling from this thin rope was nerve-wracking, but she clutched it in her hands as best she could. Mark and Nathan worked together to lift her, and she soon passed Rita.

“Quickly, men!” Sue Ellen shouted. At least a dozen voices replied, unleashing a terrible cry that filled the forest.

Rita continued picking her way up, one handhold and foothold at a time. Some of the rocks she tried to use shifted beneath her, forcing her to steady herself and course correct along the way. Just as Melanie reached the top of the cliff, she saw movement in the trees below. The horse had been forced to slow down by the sheer number of obstacles, but she saw the animal winding its way toward the cliff. Farther back, she saw people on foot picking their way through the underbrush.

And then arms took hold of Melanie, and she was hoisted backward onto the cliff. Here, they had an expansive view of the trees stretching out below far into the distance. Rita was making her sure and steady way to the top, but she still had a little way to go.

“Faster, faster,” Melanie cried. She couldn’t help herself.

Beyond the cliff, a broad slope ascended toward another higher ground and another dense line of trees. Melanie could see the great humped backs of mountains to the south and southeast. A few stray trees grew up toward the cliff’s edge. The others were gathered close to the cliff, so Melanie waved her people back.

“Stay out of sight,” she said. “Otherwise, you’ll be a target.”

And then she heard the horse crash through the underbrush and come tromping out into the clearing. She peeked over the edge of the cliff and saw Sue Ellen mounted on the horse’s back, a drawn pistol in her hand. She came out of the woods a few yards to the right, cutting at an angle toward the bottom of the cliff.

“You won’t take what belongs to me,” she cried, raising the pistol and aiming it at the top of the cliff.

Mark grabbed Melanie by the back of her coat and pulled her away from the edge. She didn’t fight him, but she felt a moment of near panic. Rita. Where was Rita?

“Nobody takes anything from me,” Sue Ellen cried, shouting it so intensely that her voice cracked and broke. “Least of all my own kin!”

And then a hand reached over the top of the cliff, scrabbling at the tree roots there. A callused hand, with rough fingers that had seen much hard work, and short, ragged fingernails. Rita’s face appeared next, as she struggled to finish the climb. Clearly, it had been more challenging than she’d expected. Nathan rushed forward then, moving low, and grabbed Rita’s hand. She grabbed his wrist with her other hand as he dragged her up onto the high ground.

“Okay, that was harder than climbing the tree,” Rita said, grunting.

Just as her shoes kicked against the edge of the cliff, they heard a gunshot. The bullet hit a tree root inches from Rita’s right foot, splitting the wood with a crack.

“I said, nobody takes anything from me,” Sue Ellen cried again, hoarse and growling. “I’ll chase you to the end of the earth, you thieves! Do you hear me? I’ll never stop until you pay for what you’ve done!”

22

Only when Rita had been pulled to safety did Melanie realize the nylon rope had somehow fallen back down in all of the chaos. Maybe she’d kicked it when Mark was pulling her backward. Whatever the case, it was down there now, with the sling on the end just enticing Sue Ellen or one of her militiamen to climb up after them.

She glanced over her shoulder to see the others gathered behind her. Mark still had hold of her coat, but she gently removed his hand and dropped into a crouch.

“I have to pull the rope up before they decide to use it,” she said.

“Don’t lean out over the edge,” Mark replied. “You’ll get shot.”

Melanie waved the others back just to be sure, then reached up to where the rope was tied around the trunk of a small, sturdy tree. Though she was behind the tree, hidden from the clearing below, she could see the vast forest spread out below. She heard the militia tromping about below, speaking to each other. She heard the horse stamping on the rocks.

“Everyone stay back,” she said, grabbing the rope. “Stay well clear of the ledge. I’ll do this quick.”

She was afraid that she might pull the rope and feel it go taut in her hands as someone on the other end began pulling back. However, it came readily. She didn’t bother winding it up in any orderly fashion. Instead, she just flung it onto the ground beside her.

“They’re not getting away, I swear to God!” Sue Ellen again. She’d lost her voice from all of the shouting. She sounded like some kind of croaking monster now.

Suddenly, Melanie saw a flash somewhere out among the trees. At the same exact moment, a bullet hit the trunk of the tree about a foot above her head. Bits of bark and splinters rained down on her. She dropped flat to the ground, still grasping the rope.

“That almost hit you,” Rita said, crawling up beside Melanie. “Now they’ve taken a shot at both of us. I say we return the favor.”

“Not necessary,” Melanie replied.

But Rita drew her .38 pistol, thrust it out over the drop, and immediately opened fire. She fired off half a dozen shots, as men shouted and scattered below. Then she dropped back.

“I think I got one,” she said. She glanced at Melanie and shrugged. “If you return fire, they’ll be forced to retreat and regroup. It’ll buy us more time to get away.”

Melanie could see the wisdom in it, so she pulled the rifle off her shoulder.

“It’s reckless,” Mark said, grabbing at Melanie’s coat again. Fortunately, he didn’t pull her this time, because she’d had quite enough of that.

“It’s not reckless if we all fire together,” Melanie said. “Ready your weapons. On the count of three, we rise and fire a quick burst. Just a few shots, and then we duck back down. Okay?”

She looked at Mark, but he just stared back at her. Oh, now he was going to be overly cautious? The injured man who had insisted on climbing the cliff. Lizzy grabbed her AR-15 and approached, though she looked none too happy about it. Lizzy had lost her taste for combat somewhere around the time of the first factory fight, but apparently, she was willing now to do her reluctant duty.

“Drive them back,” Mr. Turner said, creeping up to the cliff’s edge, his rifle in his hands. “You’ve got the right idea. It’ll buy us more time to escape.”

With a grunt, Mark removed his Remington 700 and crouched beside Melanie. “Okay, fine, count me in. Let’s just do it fast, so we don’t make ourselves easy targets.”

Shona and Nathan tried to approach then as well, but Melanie waved them back. “No, you two stay together. Stay with Dusty.”

Shona didn’t have to be told twice, quickly retreating, but Nathan hung his head and frowned. Mark, Melanie, Mr. Turner, Lizzy, and Rita were all lined up now, rifles in their hands. Melanie traded a look with Rita.

“Open fire as soon as you start to rise,” Rita said. “Three quick shots, then drop down again. Don’t give them a chance to aim. Ready?”

Melanie nodded, getting one of her knees beneath her.

“Now,” Rita said in a hiss.

Melanie pushed herself up, a burst of fiery adrenaline burning through her guts. As she rose, she brought her rifle up, trying to find an immediate target. She saw men standing between the trees, like roaches ready to scatter. Dozens of them. Sue Ellen and the horse were off to her left. Melanie wanted to study the group below, to see what they were doing, but she knew she didn’t have time. She caught a glimpse of a body being dragged by the feet back into the forest.

And then Rita fired—one, two, three—in quick succession, sweeping her rifle from left to right. Melanie pulled the trigger as well, but in her addled state, she wasn’t really aiming at anything. She saw tree branched dancing below, leaves falling. Others were firing on either side of her. The noise was fierce, painful, awakening all of the bumps and bruises on her head.

Another militiaman fell, then a third. Even as they fell, others began to return fire. Melanie had absolutely no idea how many bullets she’d fired. At least one. Maybe twenty. Whatever the case, it was over.

“Get down,” she cried, dropping to the ground.

Mark dropped down beside her, and Lizzy scrambled back from the ledge. Mr. Turner dared a couple more shots, until a bullet hit the ledge in front of him, kicking dirt into his eyes. Sputtering and cursing, he dropped his rifle to one side and flung himself away from the ledge. Rita took a final shot and turned away, even as the guns continued to crackle below, bullets cutting through the trees along the ledge.

“We got at least three of them,” Rita said, swiping some debris off her shoulders. “One was a head shot. Did you see them drop?”

“I saw it,” Melanie replied, her heart racing so fiercely, she felt dizzy. “Let’s get away from here. Grab the gear. Come on.”

She slung the rifle back over her shoulder. The barrel was hot. She could feel the warmth against the back of her head.

“That’s called having the high ground, you scum,” Rita shouted, loud enough for the men below to hear. “It’s like shooting snakes in a ditch. I hope you enjoyed it!”

She grabbed the duffel bag, laughed, and dashed away from the ledge. Mark grabbed the backpack before Mr. Turner could get it, putting a strap over his right shoulder. The sound of the guns had startled Dusty. Nathan and Shona were holding him tightly, as he strained to get away.

“Rita, do we have any more smoke bombs in that duffel bag?” Melanie asked.

Rita worked the zipper down and reached inside. “Two or three.” She pulled out a small white canister and tossed it at Melanie. “Have fun.”

Melanie pulled the tab, and immediately thick, white smoke began to pour out. She tossed it underhanded toward the ledge. It just cleared a knot of tree roots and fell below, clattering on the rocks a couple of times on the way down. She heard the men yelling. The horse gave a loud whinny, spooked by the smoke. Melanie was tempted to look over the edge and see what was happening, but she decided not to risk it.

The others were moving farther from the ledge now, heading up the rocky slope toward the dense line of trees a short distance away. Mark waited for her, but she waved him on. After a moment, she heard Sue Ellen’s raspy voice.

“Don’t scatter! Stick together! Stick together, you fools!”

She sounded farther away. The militia had retreated back into the woods.

“This isn’t over!” Sue Ellen managed to muster up a little strength, turning her croak into a monstrous roar. “Do you hear me, you cowards! It’s not over! I will repay blood for blood. Mark my words!”

Melanie couldn’t resist responding, so she turned back. “Nathan is with us now!” she shouted. “He doesn’t want to be in your militia. He’s told us about the abuse!”

“I will never stop coming for you!” Sue Ellen howled. She was farther now, somewhere deep in the woods. “I will never stop chasing you until I get back what belongs to me! And once I have my hands on you, I’m going to bury you. I’m going to bury all of you to pay for the blood of my Andrew. You killed him, and I’ll take it out of you in tears and suffering!” She was ranting now, wailing like a maniac far below. “Then everyone will know. They’ll know you don’t cross the Wolverine Militia! Your day is coming! I swear to God and the devil below, you will all die!”

Melanie turned to follow the rest of the group. They’d kept moving up the slope toward the trees. All except for Nathan, who was standing out in the open. Though he was staring at the ground, she had the distinct impression that he was waiting for her. When she caught up to him, he shuffled his feet, kicking idly at the ground, then fell in beside her.

“Thanks,” he said.

“For what?”

“For…you know, saying that. Talking back. I’m glad she heard it. I want her to know.”

She gave him an encouraging smile. At the tree line, Mark turned around, looking wildly from left to right before spotting her and beckoning her. Sue Ellen’s voice gradually faded behind them. Eventually, she was little more than a hint of crazed human echoes, like some hateful spirit haunting the treetops.

“Why did you have to taunt her like that?” Lizzy said. “We drove them back so we could escape, right? Don’t we want them to give up the chase and leave us alone?”

“Ideally,” Melanie replied.

“Well, if you taunt that Sue Ellen character, she’s just going to be even more determined to catch us,” Lizzy said. “It’s like poking a bear with a stick. You’re going to make it angrier. Did you hear what she said? She’ll never stop chasing us. I think she meant it.”

“Liz has a point,” Mark said. “Maybe we could have reasoned with her. Maybe we could have…what’s the word? De-escalated.”

Melanie shrugged and pushed past them. Shona, Rita, and Dusty were waiting for her deep beyond the tree line

“It had to be said,” Melanie replied. “Someone had to speak up for Nathan, so I did it. Sue Ellen needs to know that we’re aware of how he feels about her and her friends.”

As she stepped past them and took the lead, Rita gave her a big pat on the back. It was just a bit too hard, and it rattled Melanie’s already aching skull. Now that the adrenaline was passing, she felt sick to her stomach as well, so she grabbed her belly.

“Did they retreat?” Lizzy said. “Did we drive the militia back, at least?”

“They’ve gone back into the woods for now, yes,” Melanie replied, “but you said it yourself. Sue Ellen’s not going to give up. Even if we handed the kid over to her now, she wants revenge for the deaths of her men, particularly the one named Andrew.”

“I remember that guy,” Mark said. “Andrew was the old guy with the gray beard and the big forehead. He seemed to be her right-hand man. She said his name during our showdown in the break room.”

“I’m pretty sure he was one of her boyfriends,” Nathan said. “One of many.”

“Well, apparently, we killed him just now,” Rita said. “And I think it was your shot that did it, boss. Not sure. There were a lot of bullets flying around, but he got hit right near the end, when only you and I were still shooting.”

“It was a lucky shot, then. I was barely aiming, to be honest,” Melanie said, “but I’m sure that won’t matter to the Wolverines.”

23

The climb and confrontation had taken its toll on all of them, even Rita. That became clear within the hour, as they got progressively slower and quieter. Finally, no one was talking. They’d all fallen into sullen silence, walking with heads down, backs bent. Melanie was aware of this, and knew it was bad for group morale, but she couldn’t rouse herself to do anything about it. A hundred different things about this whole situation were weighing on her.

Killing people has become entirely too easy, she thought.

Indeed, memories of past violence were bright in her mind. She clearly recalled her own hand pressing a gun to Brian’s forehead weeks earlier, even as he’d locked eyes with her. Pulling the trigger, seeing his body lurch, his head rock back, the spray of the exit wound. It was no small thing to befriend a man and then kill him, but she’d done it without batting an eye.

Shouldn’t it be a whole lot harder to pull the trigger even when we’re in danger?

She didn’t know if similar thoughts were weighing on the others. No one bothered to share, and she didn’t ask. Of course, it wasn’t just the killings that haunted Melanie. Sue Ellen’s threat was ringing in her head.

Blood and suffering! I’m going to make you all pay!

It seemed they managed to transform Sue Ellen from a determined, violent woman into a crazed, bloodthirsty maniac, and Melanie couldn’t help but think that they would come to regret it soon. How were they supposed to get away from this militia? Nothing would stop them from climbing the cliff as soon as the smoke cleared, if not before.

Finally, the group was moving so slowly, they were almost at a standstill. The trees up here on the higher slope were not as dense as the forest below, with plenty of gaps between the trunks. The ground was rocky but firm. That should have made walking easier, but they’d turned into a group of shambling zombies.

“Okay, I think we have to stop for a little while,” Melanie said finally. “Not long. Just enough to collect ourselves.”

There was nowhere especially comfortable to rest. Melanie chose a spot that was a little more open, but it wasn’t a clearing. No one disagreed with her suggestion. Mr. Turner practically dropped to the ground, catching himself against the smooth trunk of a tree and sliding to his knees. Lizzy groaned and sat down beside him. Shona sat down with Dusty, pulling the panting dog into her lap

“I’m breaking out the canteens, guys,” Rita said, sitting down and sliding the straps of the duffel bag off her shoulder. “Give me a second.”

“We didn’t have time to untie the rope from the tree,” Melanie noted, as she sat down on a large rock. “Do we have any more rope in the supplies?”

“Yes, there’s a smaller rope in the backpack,” Mark said, sitting beside her and putting the backpack on the ground between them.

Rita handed the canteen to Shona. “Here. Pass this around. Just one big gulp, guys. No more than that. We might have to make it last.”

Nathan was the only one still standing, digging the toe of his shoe into a soft spot on the ground. Shona took a sip of water and gave Nathan a concerned look. The kid seemed exhausted, bent and wobbly, eyes half-lidded, but he wouldn’t sit down. When the canteen finally reached Melanie, she took a small swallow, then rose and brought it to Nathan.

“Take a drink,” she said, thrusting it at him. “We all have to stay hydrated.”

He resisted for a couple of seconds, but she held it there. Finally, he grunted and grabbed it out of her hand.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Melanie said.

Nathan glanced up at her, then quickly turned away. She didn’t think he was going to answer, but finally he sipped at the canteen and cleared his throat. “One of you is going to get killed. Maybe all of you. And when it happens, it’ll be my fault.”

“Why would you say that?” Shona said. She seemed close to tears.

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” he replied sullenly. He thrust the canteen back at Melanie without looking at her. “If I just surrendered and went with my mom, everyone would be safe. You guys would probably still be living in the factory with plenty of food and clean water and nice beds to sleep in. I’m being selfish. I caused all of this by defying my own mother.”

“No, we made a decision to keep you out of an unsafe environment,” Melanie replied. “We all agreed to it. Don’t forget, Sue Ellen blasted the door off the factory before we ever took a shot at her people. She’s the one who made this violent, not us. Not you.”

“Mom just wants me to become part of the militia,” Nathan said, kicking a stray rock. “That’s all. Is that so bad? She wants me to be like her. And like Grandpa. And like the rest of the men and women in that group. All of those people I hate. I should give in, even if I don’t like it, for the sake of you guys.”

“Nathan…no,” Shona said. “You can’t go with them. Your mom will punish you for defying her. They’ll hurt you.”

“Yeah, probably,” he said, “but they won’t kill me, and that’s the thing. I’ll survive, and you guys will live.”

Melanie stepped around in front of him and grabbed his shoulders. “Hey, Nathan, you told me there’s a lot of violence and bullying in that militia. You told me people are threatened, beaten, mistreated. I’m not sending you back into an environment like that, not against your will.”

“I might get whipped, or locked in a shed, or deprived of food,” he said, “but I’ll have other chances to escape. At least you guys will be able to go somewhere safe without being chased by Mom and her crazy friends. Once I get away, I’ll come and find you.”

“We are not going to let you sacrifice yourself like that,” Melanie said. “Forget it.”

Finally, he pulled out of her grasp and turned away. Shona gently set Dusty aside and rose to meet him, but he pointedly walked away from her.

“Mom said she’s going to kill all of you. Well, you better believe she means it. My mom doesn’t make idle threats, and she’ll kill anyone without batting an eye if they get in her way. She will never give up. Never. But maybe, just maybe, if I were to leave right now and head to her, you guys would have enough time to get far, far away.”

Rita groaned. She was sitting with her back against a tree, her hands clasped on top of her head, black hair sprouting between her fingers like weeds through cracks in a sidewalk. “We didn’t come all this way and take all of these crazy risks just to let you wander off in a fit of self-pity, kid.”

“You don’t understand,” Nathan said. He was standing at the edge of the group, facing back in the direction they’d come from. “Mom is upset about Andrew, but once she has me back under her thumb, I don’t think she’ll waste the manpower to keep chasing you.”

Melanie was afraid Nathan was on the verge of bolting, taking off back toward his mom while everyone else was too tired to stop him, so she approached and stepped in the way. He still wouldn’t look at her.

“Nathan, I don’t care what Sue Ellen said. Her threats won’t sway me,” Melanie said. “She’s crazy. I’m sorry to say it, but your mom is a psycho.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Nathan said with a sigh. “It’s funny. I used to think it would be better if I lived with her instead of my dad. Maybe I’m the one who’s nuts.”

“Stop that,” Melanie said. She grabbed his shoulders again, and this time clamped down just hard enough to make him look up. Finally, his teary eyes met her gaze, his lower lip trembling.

“Sue Ellen is not someone you negotiate with,” Melanie said. “That’s clear. Nathan, if you really wanted to be with your mom, I would let you go, but I can see that you’re terrified. I will not send you back into a place that scares you this much. Whatever happens to us, it won’t be your fault.”

“You’re stuck with us, Nathan,” Mr. Turner said, in his most grandfatherly voice. “I hope you don’t mind, but we sort of like you. Heck, you feel like another one of my grandkids at this point.”

For some reason, this unleashed the floodgates, and Nathan began to cry. He covered his face with his hands, as if to hide it. Shona ran to him, pushed herself in front of Melanie, and wrapped her arms around him.

And Melanie knew when it was time to back away, so she moved.

“You belong with us,” Shona said. “We’re going to protect you and keep you safe.”

Nathan seemed to be in good hands, and well contained in Shona’s arms, so Melanie walked over and sat down beside her husband. “Nathan, the only way we’re going to avoid the threat of this Wolverine militia is to stay ahead of them and keep moving. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” he replied, the words muffled against Shona’s shoulders.

“That means no running off to surrender,” Rita said sharply.

“I won’t,” Nathan said.

24

An hour’s rest did little to invigorate them. The afternoon wore on, and they were still trudging along like a sad collection of lost souls. Mr. Turner eventually spotted what appeared to be a small deer trail cutting through the woods, and they followed it for a while. This, at least, made the going just a bit easier.

“If there’s a deer path, that means there are deer,” Shona said. “So, we should be able to hunt them, right? Then we’ll have plenty of food.”

“Yes, but we’re not going to spend time hunting,” Melanie said. “It’s risky just resting from time to time. I’m concerned that the militia has trackers. Otherwise, how did they manage to find us in all of these miles of forests?”

“Footsteps, broken branches and twigs, marks on trees,” Mr. Turner said. “There are a lot of signs, if you know what to look for.”

“That’s my point, Pop. They clearly know what to look for.”

Unfortunately, the deer path soon faded into wild tangles, and they resumed their trek through tougher terrain. Melanie used the position of the sun to keep them moving in what felt like a southerly direction, as the slope beneath their feet rose and fell. Wherever they were now, it was vast and unchanging, the same trees, brush, and rocks hour after hour, as if nature were a treadmill that just kept looping over and over.

The weary group fell back into a silent stupor as the sun slowly sank toward the horizon. Shona’s ankle seemed to be doing better, as she seemed to need the crutch less. That, at least, was a good sign. However, Melanie knew the group wouldn’t last much longer, and it would be dangerous to try to set up camp in the darkness. So, she began looking for a good place to stop for the night.

Finally, she spotted a small grassy hill with an enormous tree in the center. It seemed like as good a place as any, and at least the ground would provide some small measure of comfort to their aching backs. She pointed toward the enormous tree.

“Nathan, does that big tree on the hill there look like it has any widow makers?” she asked.

Nathan gazed up at the tree for a second and said, “No, all the big branches seem healthy to me.”

Melanie turned in that direction. “Okay, then, I think I’ve found our campsite for the evening.”

Audible sighs of relief went through the group like ripples in a lake. Melanie stepped out into the clearing and started up the shallow hill. Finally, she came to a stop and turned to the others as they emerged from the shadows.

“This is as good a place as we’re going to find, I think,” Melanie said. “What do you guys think?”

“I’d sleep on a grenade at this point,” Lizzy said. “That’s how wiped out I am.”

“I’m with you, sister,” Rita agreed, as she dumped the duffel bag onto the ground and dropped to her knees. “A few solid hours of unconsciousness would do a body good.”

Shona stumbled up the hill and folded down onto the grass like a little broken toy. Dusty curled up beside her and rested her face on her paws.

“Well, wait a second, everyone,” Melanie said. “Before you all collapse, we should try to find a good source of water nearby. One canteen is empty, the other is over halfway there.”

“I’ll go,” Nathan said, raising his hand. “I probably have the best chance of finding a water source, since I kind of know what to look for.” He turned then, as if he intended to march right out on his own and start looking.

“Hang on,” Melanie said, “I don’t want anyone wandering off alone. Will someone go with him?”

Lizzy shuffled past Melanie, her head down, eyes practically shut. That ruled her out. Rita, usually so full of energy, was already lying on her back. Finally, Melanie’s gaze settled on Mark and Mr. Turner, who came stumbling up the hill together.

“One of you?” she asked.

Mr. Turner grunted and said, “I’ll go with him. My fuel tank is close to empty, but it’s not there yet. It’s funny; at a certain point, you’re so worn out that you almost feel numb. Maybe that’s just me.” He turned to Nathan. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s find water quick as we can.”

The two of them started back out of the clearing. Before they disappeared through the trees, Shona sat up, as if jolted awake.

“No, wait, I want to go, too,” she said. “Nathan, wait for me.”

He paused as she picked herself up, favoring her injured ankle. Melanie noted that she didn’t bother with the crutch this time. Her limp was quite mild as she made her way back down the hill and took up her place beside Nathan.

“That’s fine, then,” Melanie said. “You three stick together, and don’t go far. If you can’t find water in the immediate vicinity, just come on back, and Shona, don’t overdo it with your ankle.”

“It’s a lot better now, Mom. I promise.”

Melanie nodded. “Fine. If you hear any strange noises out there—footsteps, horses, voices—come right back.”

* * *

It was the vulnerable side of Nathan that she appreciated the most. For a long time, his sensitive and caring side had mostly been hidden from the rest of the group, revealed only to Shona and Dusty. But everyone had seen that side of him now. Heck, he’d cried right there in front of Mom. Shona wasn’t sure what to think about this. The real Nathan was no longer for her alone.

Still, she was worried about him. He’d been on the verge of fleeing back to his mother. She knew him well enough to realize that. He would have turned himself over to that damned militia and endured all of their mistreatment and abuse just to protect Shona and the others. She couldn’t let that happen, no matter what.

Will he try to run back to his mother again? It was a thought that nagged at her. Surely not.

Still, as she followed him into the trees, she made sure to stick close. With Grandpa walking on his other side, they had him boxed in. He couldn’t run off and surrender, even if he wanted to.

“So, Nathan, how exactly do you find fresh water in the forest?” she asked.

“Well, of course, the best thing is to find a stream that’s running clear,” he replied, “but stagnant or muddy water can be strained and boiled, if necessary. Now, if we’re really lucky, we’ll find a fresh water spring.”

“That would be a real find,” Mr. Turner said.

“How do you find a spring?” Shona asked.

“Well, it’s usually finding a stream and following it back to the source,” Nathan said. “Sometimes, you might find a place where the ground is muddy or squishy, or where there are standing puddles on a rainless day. Anyway, keep your eyes open.”

They walked a circle around the camp, staying close as they looked for some sign, any sign, of water. When nothing turned up, they widened the circle.

Shona could tell by the strain in his voice that he was still upset about everything. He was trying to keep his real feelings hidden. She really wanted to talk to him about it. She would have loved nothing more than being his makeshift therapist, but she knew that he often needed a little space when he was wrestling with difficult emotions, especially when there wasn’t an immediate solution to his troubles. So, she kept her curiosity to herself and tried to enjoy being by his side. With Dusty accompanying them, she could almost pretend it was like the old days, when the three of them used to wander the factory grounds together.

“For being so late in the year, the forest still manages to look quite lovely,” Mr. Turner noted. “If we must flee for our lives, as least we’re fleeing across beautiful wilderness, not some desert or swamp.”

“Grandpa, is that your poetic way of saying our crappy situation could be a lot worse?” Shona asked.

“I suppose it is,” he replied, giving her a smile. His beard was getting more impressive by the day. It was a great wooly thing now, beyond the Santa Claus stage and well into the mountain man stage. That seemed appropriate under the circumstances.

As they walked along, Nathan held his head at a strange angle, as if listening for something in particular. He turned periodically and changed direction, but this gradually took them deeper into the forest and farther from camp.

“Let’s not get too far from the group,” Mr. Turner said, at one point.

“That looks promising,” Nathan replied, pointing ahead, where the ground sloped down into a narrow ravine. “I’ll bet there’s water in that ravine.”

“It’s not safe to be out of sight of the others,” Mr. Turner said.

“We won’t be. Not for long. We’ll scoop up water and go.”

Shona was impressed by his certainty. She hadn’t expected him to be so comfortable in the wilderness, but he seemed to know his way around. It was a part of himself that he hadn’t really revealed during their time in the factory.

He led them down a slight slope toward the shady ravine a short distance away. She really wanted to talk to him about this, to pick his brain for all of his wilderness knowledge, but he hadn’t been in a talkative mood since his emotional outburst earlier. Indeed, he seemed to be swimming in and out of a dark place in his mind.

When we finally settle down somewhere, he’ll be his old self again, she thought.

In the meantime, she walked in relative silence. Gradually, she became aware of some faint sound rising. At first, it was like a sigh of wind. Then it took on a sharper edge and became a kind of gentle roar.

“That’s water,” she said. “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I knew it,” he replied. “It’s just ahead.”

Indeed, as they passed between two large trees and entered the shallow ravine, a small babbling brook came in sight. It ran down a rocky slope, carving a path at the base of the ravine. The rough ground in the ravine made it noisy, but it wasn’t as big as it sounded. Still, the water looked clean and clear.

Nathan glanced first at Shona, then at Grandpa, and nodded, as if to say, See, I didn’t lead you astray. Though there wasn’t much water, it was a pretty little stream burbling over smooth rocks. Shona had one of the canteens clipped to her belt, and she pulled it off as they picked their way down toward the water’s edge. Nathan had the other canteen, and he unscrewed the cap as he knelt beside her.

“The water is so clear,” Shona asked. “Is it okay to drink right from the stream just this one time?”

“It’s always a risk to drink from a stream,” Nathan replied. “Even clear mountain water can have E. coli, salmonella, and lots of other crap, so we’d better just fill the canteens and take it back to camp.”

Grandpa was standing with Dusty off to one side, and he shook his head. “I’ve drunk from a thousand wilderness streams in my day and never got sick. Only when they were clear, of course.”

“Well, you’re lucky then, sir,” Nathan replied. He thrust the opening of his canteen into the small stream. “Animal waste gets into streams, you know. That’s a good way to get giardia and die from diarrhea.”

“Die from diarrhea,” Shona muttered, suddenly sick to her stomach. She had her canteen in the stream, cold water rushing over her hand. It felt so clean and crisp. Could it really be all that dangerous? She really wanted to just scoop up a handful and drink it, but she decided to trust Nathan’s judgment.

Once the canteen was full, she screwed the cap on and struggled to clip it to her belt. The endless sound of the stream was beginning to have an effect on her, and it wasn’t thirst. Indeed, as she watched the clear water running over smooth stones, wending its way down the ravine, she suddenly had a very strong urge to pee. Nathan was still filling his canteen, and Grandpa had found himself a nice sturdy tree root to sit on.

“Guys, I really have to…um…you know?” she said.

Nathan gave her a questioning look, then quickly understood. “Oh, nature calls?”

She nodded.

“Burbling water can have that effect,” Grandpa said. He gestured toward the other side of the ravine. “Just go behind the nearest tree there and get it over with. Don’t wander off, okay? I’m already nervous about how far we’ve come from the campsite.”

“I’ll hurry,” Shona said.

She hopped the stream and picked her way up the other side of the ravine. Many large trees grew at the top of the ravine on that side, but most of the leaves had fallen this late in the year. The ground was quite rough and uneven here as well, so she hunted around for a good spot to squat down. Grandpa’s warning lingered in her mind. Yes, she knew the militia was relentless. They would find a way up the cliff. That made her nervous.

Still, nature called, so she found a spot a short distance up the stream, where heavy bushes blocked two sides and a big tree trunk blocked a third. The ground here was mostly smaller rocks, so she was able to squat down with relative stability. Still, she wasn’t used to relieving herself out in the open like this. The factory had had actual bathrooms. But this, squatting right there on the rocks beside a tree, was weird.

After dropping her pants, it took a moment of intense concentration to get started. Her natural modesty resisted, even with the strong need.

“Just hurry. Just hurry,” she muttered, speaking to…herself? Her bladder?

Strangely, it seemed to help.

She was in mid-stream when she heard the distinct sound of voices coming from somewhere nearby. At first, she assumed it was Nathan and Grandpa, that they’d wandered away from the stream, followed her to make sure she hadn’t gone too far away, or heard something that drew their attention. Panicking, she grabbed her pants and backed up against the trunk of the tree to make sure she was completely hidden.

Give me a few seconds, guys, she thought. Come on!

But then she realized these voices were not familiar to her. Too deep to be Nathan, too twangy to be Grandpa. No, these were strange men. Harsh men. Shona held her breath and ducked down low, trying to make out what they were saying. They seemed to be coming from somewhere off to her right, beyond the bushes and upstream. Maybe a couple hundred yards, possibly a little further. They sounded angry, but they weren’t quite close enough to make out the words.

If they’re following the stream, they’ll spot Nathan and Grandpa soon, she realized.

Shaking, she crept in the other direction, pushing through a gap between the bushes and the tree. On the other side, she felt far too exposed, so she dropped even lower, moving on her hands and knees back in the direction she’d come. There were far too many dead leaves blanketing the ground, crunching under her as she went, despite her best efforts. She aimed for the rockier ground along the edge of the ravine. The rocks hurt her knees, but at least they were quieter.

The voices were getting louder. She rose to a crouch and moved fast, sticking to the rocks and tree roots as she worked her way back downstream. Ahead, she recognized the fat trees where she’d left the ravine, but as she approached them, she heard other voices coming from in front of her. From down in the ravine. One of them was clearly Grandpa, but there were others, multiple others, angry voices.

Shona’s blood went cold as she dropped onto her stomach. She pulled herself forward inch by inch until she came to a stop just above the spot where they’d filled their canteens. Peering over a large exposed root, she saw figures standing around the water.

Nathan and Grandpa were on their knees, hands held above their heads. Their guns had been taken and lay on the ground nearby. Behind them, a pair of militiamen with their thick beards and all-black gear, paced slowly back and forth. One of them, a man with a long, ruddy beard, kept an AR-15 trained on them as he paced.

Other militiamen stood to either side. Indeed, Shona counted a total of eight armed men. One of them was talking in a low, threatening voice to Grandpa, who occasionally responded softly. If it had been one or two militiamen, Shona might have tried to take them out, but eight was just too many. They were outnumbered and outgunned, and if she opened fire, Nathan or Grandpa—possibly both—were liable be caught in the crossfire. Instead, she pressed herself flat against the ground, becoming as small and invisible an object as possible. There was no sign of Dusty. Where had the dog gone? Probably spooked by the men. She would have gone into hiding somewhere.

Suddenly, another figure strode out of the trees across the ravine and picked her way down the slope toward the kneeling figures. A woman in her mid-thirties, with short blond hair poking out from under the black hat, and a tanned face that was all sharp angles and deep lines. As she approached, Nathan turned and looked at her over his shoulder.

“Mom, why are you doing this?” he said. “Leave these people alone. Stop chasing them. Stop shooting at them.”

Sue Ellen groaned loudly, as if wounded, and pressed a hand to her heart. “Why am I doing this? Why am I doing this? Excuse me, Nathan, I don’t believe I started anything. I just came to that factory looking for my son, as any parent would do in a time of crisis and separation.”

“How did you even know I was there?” he asked. “How did you even know the factory was still intact?”

Sue Ellen stepped in front of Nathan and Grandpa, blocking them from Shona’s view. The big silver pistol in her hand was now clearly visible.

“I knew you were there because your dad’s friend Cooper told me you were there,” she said. “I’m sure you remember him. Why, this is his cousin, Aaron, right here.” She pointed at the man with the ruddy beard.

Aaron tipped a little salute at Nathan.

“Cooper,” Grandpa said bitterly. “I knew we shouldn’t’ve let that guy get away.”

“Oh, yeah, he came right to the militia looking for help,” Sue Ellen said. “Offered me a deal. ‘I’ll lead you to your son, if you’ll help me get the factory back from a few outsiders.’” She paused and shrugged. “I didn’t take the deal. Cooper was one of your father’s cronies, always a thorn in my side, so I had the men take him out into a field and deal with him. And then I came to retrieve you, which I have every right to do. I am your mother, after all. It’s not an unreasonable thing for a mother to come looking for her own child.”

“Okay, Mom, okay,” Nathan replied. “You’re right, but you drove up to the gate with a tank and a bunch of guns. You spooked everyone.”

Shona reached up and touched the strap of her rifle. She didn’t think she could pull it free without making noise, and even if she did, it wouldn’t matter. She couldn’t take these people out. Still, she felt a desperate desire to get Nathan and Grandpa out of this situation.

“I spooked them?” Sue Ellen said, her voice rising. “You mean, I spooked the people who violently seized the factory, killed your father and his friends, and helped themselves to all of the supplies he’d so carefully stored and organized? Those are the people I spooked?” She laughed loudly. “God forbid I should spook such people! The nerve!”

“Ma’am, that’s not how it went down,” Grandpa replied. “We did not intend to take the factory from Mr. Platt in the first place.”

Sue Ellen stepped in front of him and raised the pistol, not quite pointing it at him. “I don’t believe I was speaking to you, old man. This is a conversation between my son and me. Hopefully, I don’t have to remind you again.” She glared down at him for a few seconds, and Grandpa finally bowed his head, frowning at the ground.

I have to get past them somehow, Shona thought. I have to tell the others. We have to rescue Nathan and Grandpa!

But she was frozen, afraid to move or make a sound, her fingers pressed against the rifle strap.

“Mom, just let this guy go,” Nathan said. “I came with these people because I wanted to, not because they forced me. I’ll go back with you, but leave them alone.”

“Oh, is that the deal you’re offering me, son?” Sue Ellen said. She was still standing in front of Grandpa, but she lowered the gun. “You want me to let him go. You want me to let all of these people go, even though they murdered my dear Andrew, even though they somehow turned you against me?”

“They were defending themselves,” Nathan said. “Yes, that’s what I want. Just let him go right now. Let them all go, and I’ll come with you.”

No, you can’t! Shona almost shouted it, but she just managed to clamp her mouth shut before the sound came out. Nathan, you can’t go with her!

“Let him go. Let him go,” Sue Ellen said it like she didn’t quite understand what the words meant. She was standing slightly to one side of Grandpa, facing him. Slowly, she lowered the silver pistol and holstered it. He looked up at her. Shona could tell Grandpa was scared by the tension in his body, but he was staying calm, keeping his gaze fixed on the militia leader.

“There are so many things I could forgive,” Sue Ellen said. Her hands were at her sides, both fists clenching and unclenching. “I struggle to set aside the murder of my Andrew. He was dear to me, Nathan. Dear to me and faithful. But these people turned you against me. You would have run to me before. You have run to me in the past, when you wanted to get away from your father. But under the influence of these people, you’ve treated me like an enemy, a kidnapper, a monster come to steal you away. As if a mother could steal her own son! That I cannot forgive. That I can never forgive.”

Nathan started to say something, and Grandpa flinched. But Sue Ellen was lightning fast. Her right hand swept down to the left side of her belt and grabbed something that Shona could not see. Then she drew her arm back, and the long blade of a hunting knife shone in the setting sunlight. She moved so fast that Shona scarcely had time to process what was happening.

Suddenly, Sue Ellen lunged forward, her right hand swinging up toward Grandpa. He just managed to half turn his head as the blade plunged into his neck beneath his right jawline. It seemed surreal, a dream image, the blade sinking to the hilt. Nathan shouted, a wordless cry, and fumbled at his mother’s arms. She swiped him away with a dismissive shrug of one arm, then she drew the other arm back, dragging the knife out.

Shona’s grandfather grabbed his throat with both hands, but she saw bright blood gush out, gushing between his fingers and running down his neck. He fell to one side, gurgling, then rolled onto his stomach. The blood ran shockingly fast, pouring down the rocks toward the stream. The initial shock, the absolute unreality of the moment, passed, and Shona had to bite her arm to keep from screaming. Grandpa wasn’t moving. Already gone—or close enough to it. There was so much blood.

Shaking, her mind filled with a white-hot panic, she fought hard to keep from giving herself away. And then tears filled her vision, and the scene before her thankfully disappeared behind an ever-shifting veil.

“Mom, why did you do it?” Nathan finally cried, his voice cracking. “Why? I told you to leave them alone! Mom! Why?”

People were moving around. Shona saw them now, though she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to see any of it, so she didn’t bother to wipe the tears away.

They killed him, her mind screamed. They killed Grandpa! He’s gone! God help us! They killed him!

“I won’t go with you,” Nathan said. It sounded like he was crying. “Especially not now! You’re a murderer, and I don’t want to be with you! I won’t go. You can’t make me!”

“You two,” Sue Ellen said, speaking to her men. She sounded cold, utterly emotionless, untroubled by what she’d just done. “Grab my son. Take him to my horse and strap him over the saddle.”

“No, I won’t go,” Nathan cried. “I hate you for what you’ve done! You murdered him, and he was my friend!”

Shona heard sounds of a struggle, and she finally wiped the tears away. Unfortunately, the first thing she saw was the still form of her grandfather beside the stream, the water turning red before him. Two large burly men seized Nathan by the arms, hoisting him off the ground as he kicked and thrashed.

“This wasn’t some kindly old man,” Sue Ellen said. “He took his shots just like the rest of them. He’s a killer, too. Stop acting like I stomped on a puppy. You always were so overdramatic about everything.”

But Nathan was having none of it. As the militiamen carried him away, he tried to kick his mother, missing her by inches. She shook her head, even as she wiped the blade of her knife on a handkerchief.

“Nathan, when the rest of the world has starved to death, and only groups like ours are thriving,” Sue Ellen said, “then you’ll understand why I did what I did.”

The militiamen started back up the far side of the ravine. Sue Ellen lingered a moment, glancing about. Did she sense Shona in the bushes above the other side? Shona’s skin crawled, and she tried to press herself even flatter against the cold, rocky ground. And then Sue Ellen turned and started up the ravine after her men. Shona heard the jingle of reins, and she glimpsed a gray horse moving through the trees.

Still crying, shaking so badly that she didn’t think she could draw her rifle even if she’d wanted to, Shona waited, watching as Sue Ellen and her men disappeared back into the woods. And then they were gone, and a terrible quiet settled over the forest.

25

Melanie really wanted to set up a nice camp. She would have done so, except she also wanted to be ready to break camp and flee at a moment’s notice should the need arise. Therefore, she resisted the urge to build a large shelter. Instead, she draped a tarp over some branches to create a shady area, then cleared the ground there of rocks and sticks, adding plenty of fallen leaves for padding. While she did that, Lizzy worked on creating a firepit nearby, creating a ring of large stones and digging down to the dirt within.

“This sleeping on the ground is the pits,” Lizzy said. “It’ll never get easier. I just know spiders are crawling on us when we’re asleep. If I wake up in the middle of the night and find something slithering on me, I’m gonna go ballistic. Can’t we make hammocks or something?”

“Sleeping on a hammock is less safe,” Melanie replied, lashing the corner of a tarp to a tree root. “Harder to get up and flee, or get up and defend the camp, or get up and pee, or get up and do anything. I wouldn’t recommend it. Then again, if you really want to try making a hammock out of one of the blankets, I won’t physically restrain you.”

“You’re a bit of a party pooper, Mel. Do you know that?”

“I’m well aware of it, Liz.”

Lizzy rose, hands on her hips, and looked around the camp. Mark and Rita were checking on their weapons, cleaning and reloading, like soldiers recovering after a battle and preparing for the next one. That’s not just what it looked like; that’s what it was.

“They won’t give us the whole night,” Melanie said. “They’ll lick their wounds and find a way up that cliff as soon as they can. Maybe we shouldn’t have a fire. It’ll just draw them to us faster.”

“We can’t have just a little bit of heat?” Lizzy replied, carefully arranging the ring of stones. “It gets cold at night, and those foil blankets don’t do anything. Anyway, won’t we hear them coming?”

“Maybe,” Melanie said, weight down another corner of their sleeping tarp. “I guess if we set watches during the night.”

“Has it…” Lizzy started to ask a question, then paused, as if unsure she should say it. Finally, she pressed on. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe we should’ve just handed the boy over to his mother in the first place, before any of the shooting began?”

Melanie glanced at Lizzy, who had an embarrassed look on her face. Ashamed of what she’d said. “No, it hasn’t. I firmly believe Sue Ellen would have taken the factory anyway to get her hands on Derrick’s stuff, and she probably would have killed us in the process. Even if she didn’t, we would’ve been turned out. Could you really, in good conscience, hand him over to that militia?”

“Not in good conscience, no,” Lizzy said with a sigh, “but maybe to keep everyone else alive.”

“Shona would never forgive me,” Melanie said. The sleeping area was as good as it was going to get, so she rose and stretched out her aching back. She had slight rope burns on the palms of her hands from the climb, and she blew on them. “Speaking of Shona, I hope they didn’t go too far. I told them to stick close to the camp. If we can’t find water tonight, we’ll survive until tomorrow.”

She looked around the camp, scanning the ring of trees on all sides, but she didn’t see any sign of Shona, Nathan, and Mr. Turner. She listened for a moment and heard no sounds. Not a whimper from Dusty, no footsteps crunching on dead leaves. No sounds of trouble either, at least. Still, they’d clearly gotten carried away with their water search.

“Mark, have you heard or seen anything from Shona and the others?” she said, calling to her husband.

He’d taken apart one of the AR-15s, and he was meticulously cleaning every part. He gave Melanie a questioning look, then glanced around. “Not for a while. How long has it been?”

They were edging toward evening, and the shadows across the clearing were long. “I’m not sure. Half an hour, at least. They should’ve come back by now, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” he replied. “We’d have heard something if they were in trouble, though. I wouldn’t worry about it. Do you want to go looking for them?”

Melanie brushed off the seat of her pants and walked over to Mark. She grabbed the cleaned and reloaded Weatherby rifle. Seeing this, Rita grabbed the .38 pistol and rose beside her.

“If you’re going, boss, I’m going.”

“I don’t know if anything is wrong,” Melanie replied. “Probably not, but it’s getting dark. Come on. Let’s stick together.”

Mark finished assembling the AR-15, reloaded a magazine, and slammed it home. “You’re making me nervous, Mel. Maybe we shouldn’t have let them go looking for water.”

“I told them to stick close to the camp,” she said. “I was very clear about that.”

Lizzy approached now and grabbed the other AR-15 from the row of guns. “Maybe we should’ve just kept going and not set up camp. It’s uncomfortable to sleep like this anyway, you know?”

“Just come on,” Melanie said, heading for the edge of camp.

She’d last seen them headed into the trees roughly east of the clearing, so she went in that direction. Rita quickly moved up beside her, rifle held at the ready, as if she expected to find monsters lurking behind the first tree. Mark and Lizzy followed them, as Melanie headed out of the clearing, scanning the ground before her for some kind of passage.

Of course, she wasn’t a tracker. None of them were. Here and there, Melanie saw what seemed to be slight depressions in the leaf-strewn ground, but they didn’t look like footprints.

“Shouldn’t we call for them?” Mark asked. “Shout their names, see if they respond?”

“Maybe not,” Melanie replied. “I’d rather not give our position away to the wrong people. Just in case.”

She circled a dense stand of bushes and spotted muddy ground ahead with a single, clear boot print pressed into it. As she drew near, she thought it looked a lot like the sole of Mr. Turner’s hiking boots. The toe was pointed to the southeast, where the ground sloped downward into deeper shadows. It was getting dark fast now, so she fumbled in her pocket until she found the small flashlight she kept there.

Clicking it on, she headed down the gradual slope. For a while, there were no other prints, no signs of their passing, and she began to wonder if perhaps they’d gone the wrong way.

“Surely they didn’t walk this far,” Melanie said.

“They might have been distracted,” Lizzy suggested. “Maybe our boy Nathan smelled some water and just took off running.”

Rita suddenly turned to one side, raised an arm, and pointed.

“There,” she said. “They went that way. Can’t you see?”

Melanie looked in the direction she was pointing, but all she saw were trees and more trees. Rita was pointing low, however, and Melanie’s gaze went down to the ground. After a moment of staring, she spotted a row of very small depressions in wet leaves. Stepping closer, she realized they were paw prints.

“Dusty,” she said. “The dog went this way, which means the others did, too. So they did go far from camp, after all.”

“I think a little scolding might be in order,” Mark said. “This is ridiculous.”

“Yeah, this can’t happen again,” Melanie replied. “We can’t take these kinds of risks, especially when they might be tracking us. Even if we’re looking for water.”

She followed the paw prints through some bushes between two large maple trees and down the slope to a rocky place. Eventually, she spotted what appeared to be kind of ravine or gully another fifty or sixty yards ahead of them. She became aware then of a familiar sound, the gentle but persistent burbling of a small stream.

“It’s up ahead,” she said. “A stream down in that ravine there. I’ll bet that’s where Nathan led them.”

“Well, at least he wasn’t leading them astray,” Lizzy said. “The kid really did know how to find water.”

“If they found a nice stream,” Rita said, “I guess that lets them off the hook a little bit, doesn’t it?”

“They still went too far,” Mark said.

“You’re right,” Melanie said.

Then, for some reason that she didn’t quite understand, she held her finger to her lips. It was very quiet here. Other than the sound of the stream, she didn’t hear any voices. Wouldn’t they have been making noise? And in that moment, in the presence of that relative silence, a slight edge of anxiety turned into a sudden painful dread. Melanie picked up her pace as she approached the ravine, the AR-15 held firmly in her arms, her finger hovering near the trigger.

Rita kept pace with her. When Melanie glanced in her direction, she nodded knowingly. Yes, Rita knew something was wrong, too.

Should I call for them now? Melanie wondered. Should I shout their names, just so I can hear their voices in return and know they’re okay?

But she didn’t do it. Something stayed her tongue. Something in her demanded quiet. She reached the edge of the ravine, using a cluster of smaller trees to shield her from view. She held up a hand to hold the others back, then quickly lowered it and grabbed her rifle again. Rita, Lizzy, and Mark moved into position behind her, and then she pressed forward, pushing through the branches, leading with the barrel of her rifle.

When she poked her face through the gap, she saw water running over a rocky path a few yards ahead of her at the bottom of the ravine. It was a small stream, murky, muddy. Dirty water, unsuitable for drinking. Perhaps Nathan had come upon the stream, determined that it was unsuitable for drinking, and moved on to find another source of water. Surely not. Surely, they would’ve come back.

Melanie picked her way down the unstable rocks and roots to the bottom of the ravine. As she got closer, she began to think that the muddy stream was in fact polluted. The muck that made the water cloudy also seemed to be clinging to the rocks on either side, staining them like brown paint. It was as if this stream we’re just down from some poorly regulated factory that was dumping waste into it.

That was, of course, impossible. There were no factories up here in the mountains. Melanie approached the water, as the others pushed out into the ravine behind her. As she knelt by the water’s edge, she heard Rita make some small sound, almost a gasp, not quite. Melanie reached down with her left hand and touched the stream. When she drew her hand back, she saw the stain on her fingers.

Rust red. No, brighter than that. Almost crimson. She drew her hand to her nostrils and sniffed. Metallic. Familiar.

Her heart went ice cold. She wiped her hand on her pants and rose, turning upstream, bringing the rifle up with her.

“Is that…?” Lizzy started to ask. “Could that be…?”

At first, Melanie didn’t see the body. They were at a slight bend in the creek, and there were some high rocks in the way. But then she noticed a slight hump rising above the rocks. A shoulder. A padded leather sleeve. And farther down, closer to the water, the black rubberized heel of a boot. She recognized it all too well.

“Oh, God, please,” she whispered. “No, don’t let it be.”

She ran upstream, slipping and sliding on the loose rocks. The farther upstream she went, the more the color of the water changed from a kind of rust brown to deep crimson. Yes, indeed, she knew now what it was.

“Wait, Mel,” Mark said. “Don’t rush over there. We don’t know…”

She scarcely heard him. As she reached the bend, his body came into view. Max Turner. Her adoptive father. Grandfather to her daughter. He lay on his stomach, his feet pointed towards the top of the ravine, his face almost in the water. His hands were twisted awkwardly beneath his chest, as if he’d been grabbing at his own face when he fell. His legs were stretched out straight behind him.

She could see a lot of blood flowing from somewhere beneath him. It was partially congealed, but it had drawn a long track over the rocks and right into the water. Indeed, upstream from Mr. Turner’s body, the water was clear.

Melanie couldn’t help herself. She cried out, unleashing a sound of shock and grief. She felt a hand on her back, someone trying to comfort her—or possibly hold her back—but she shrugged the hand away and stepped over the large rocks. As she did, her foot slipped again, and she went down on her knees beside Mr. Turner. She almost dropped the rifle in the process, fumbling with both hands to maintain her grip.

“Pop,” she said. Then louder, “Pop! Can you hear me? Say something!”

He didn’t move, didn’t respond. She leaned in close, hoping to hear him breathing, hoping to hear some sound coming from his body, some faint indication of lingering life. But he was utterly still, utterly silent.

“Be careful,” Rita said. “His attackers could be nearby.”

But Melanie couldn’t stop herself. She grabbed at his shirt and began rolling him over. Lizzy appeared then, taking a great leap over the rocks. She landed near his feet, took a stumbling step, and she did indeed drop her rifle. It hit the rocks and rolled down toward the water’s edge. Lizzy didn’t seem to care. A great, heaving sob broke out of her as she fell down beside her father.

“Who did this?” she wailed. “It was Sue Ellen, wasn’t it? I’ll kill her! I’ll blow her brains out! I’ll kill all of her people, and drown her in her own blood!”

Lizzy was ranting, making a dangerous amount of noise. Melanie raised a finger to her lips but it was halfhearted. Lizzy kept right on ranting.

Mr. Turner was on his back now, and she could see the wound. He had a massive, penetrating injury in his throat just beneath his right jawline. Melanie was no medical expert, of course, but she could tell it was a knife wound, a deep one. He’d probably bled out fast.

The possibility that he had died quickly, that he hadn’t suffered a prolonged death, was the only consolation, but it wasn’t much. Melanie felt Mark’s arm around her shoulders, even as she wept bitterly. Her sobs matched Lizzy’s, tinged with a sharp and hateful anger. She was faintly aware that Rita had moved off to one side, aiming the rifle up above the ravine.

Instead of trying to get them to be quiet, Rita had decided to keep watch, to protect them in their vulnerable moment. To let them have their grief, guarding it with her gun.

“I shouldn’t have let them go off,” Melanie said. “I shouldn’t have let them go looking for water. What was I thinking?”

She still wanted to cry. She wanted to keep crying, but she knew she didn’t dare. Mr. Turner was here, but there was no sign of Shona or Nathan. Or Dusty, for that matter. Where were they? She managed to stop crying, though her whole face ached now. She aimed the flashlight at the far side of the ravine.

And if she found their bodies next? If she found Nathan, Shona, and Dusty all crumpled together on the bloody rocks? Would she ever rise again?

I won’t survive it, she thought.

Thankfully, she didn’t see any other bodies, even as she scanned the ravine in both directions. Just rocks, tree roots, and more rocks.

“Maybe they fled,” she said, her voice hitching. “Maybe they got away from whoever attacked Pop.”

“Let’s hope so,” Mark replied. It sounded like he was crying, as well.

A sudden sound startled Melanie. A rustling in the bushes somewhere nearby, like some small animal scurrying about. Melanie shifted the flashlight downstream, shining it along the top of the ravine. She settled on a large stand of holly bushes that had grown wild just beyond the ridge. Something was moving there. She saw a vague shape through the dense branches. Wide eyes, bared teeth.

“Mom?”

At that, Melanie dropped the rifle and rose, stepping over the stream. As she ascended the far slope, the small shape broke through the branches and revealed itself as a small girl in a filthy jacket and jeans, mud ground into her knees, sleeves, shoes. Shona’s face was red in the flashlight beam, the tracks of tears carved through the dirt on her cheeks. She had twigs stuck in her wild, tangled hair.

“Mom,” she cried, rushing down the slope to meet her.

Melanie caught her and pulled her into an embrace, which caused the flashlight beam to dance wildly along the treetops.

Thank God, Melanie thought. Indeed, at that moment, it was the only thought. Thank God. Thank God.

26

“They got him, Mom. They took him away.”

It had taken a few long minutes before Melanie could make sense of what Shona was trying to say. She was in a state of near panic, and she kept stumbling over her own words. Melanie felt her trembling. She couldn’t imagine how terrified her daughter had been.

“How did it happen?” Melanie asked.

They were standing by the stream, Max’s body on the ground beside them. Lizzy knelt with the body, and Rita continued pacing, her gaze locked on the trees above the ridge. By the tension in her body, the feline way that she stalked the ravine, it looked like Rita was ready for a fight. While the others wept, she prepared herself for revenge.

That attitude may come in handy, Melanie thought. We could use one good stone-cold killer right now.

“They snuck up on us, I guess,” Shona said. Melanie was still hugging her, and Mark had joined in, hugging them both. “Sue Ellen and some other guys. The horse was nearby, but I guess we weren’t paying close enough attention. We never heard it until it was too late.”

“They took Nathan?” Melanie asked.

“Literally carried him away,” Shona said. “Put him on the horse and rode off. Mom, Dad, I couldn’t do anything to help him. I’ve got a gun, and I thought about shooting them, but I was in a good hiding spot.” She was getting worked up again, crying harder, struggling to get the words out. Melanie stroked her hair and tried to calm her down. “I was afraid if I gave myself away, I’d wind up like Grandpa.”

“You did the right thing,” Melanie said. “You were outnumbered. Don’t blame yourself. I’m glad you stayed hidden.”

“Which way did they go?” Rita asked. Unlike everyone else, she spoke in a tight, unshaking voice. “We might be able to track the horse, especially if they’ve got two people in the saddle.”

“I’m not sure,” Shona replied, furiously wiping her face. “Maybe that way.” She pointed vaguely northwest. “I couldn’t see very much from my hiding place. I should’ve shot Sue Ellen. Her back was to me, Mom. I could’ve shot her, and then maybe the other guys would’ve left. If I killed the leader, they might’ve left.”

“No, no, no,” Melanie replied. “It doesn’t work that way. Her men aren’t automatons. Someone would just lead in her place. You did the right thing, Shona.”

Lizzy rose then and approached. Melanie’s friend looked absolutely shattered in the flashlight beam, but she reached out and laid a hand on Shona’s back. “Girl, you did the right thing. Listen to your mom. Sue Ellen is an evil woman. It’s good she didn’t know you were there.”

“Anything else would’ve gotten you killed,” Mark said.

The mix of grief and relief were so potent that all of Melanie’s nerve endings felt exposed. On top of that, the surrounding darkness seemed filled with danger. They were standing out here in the open, swinging a flashlight around like a beacon, with Pop’s cooling corpse lying on the ground like discarded linen.

“We have to get out of here,” Melanie said. “It’s not safe. Let’s at least return to camp.”

She gently pushed Shona at arm’s length, looking into her eyes to make sure she would be okay. Shona was struggling, that was clear, on the edge.

“We can’t leave my dad like this,” Lizzy said. “I won’t have him lying out here like some animal carcass, just waiting to be eaten by predators. He deserves better than that, Mel.”

Rita came back down the ravine, shouldering her rifle. “Boss, I’ll help carry him. We can bury him in the clearing.” She squatted beside Mr. Turner’s body and slid her arms under him. As Lizzy resumed crying—quietly this time—Rita hoisted him up and draped the body over her shoulders. It took some time and effort to get him in place, but when she finally managed it, she turned and trudged back up the ravine, straining.

Melanie stooped to pick up her rifle. “Shona, you saw the whole thing? You saw what happened to him?”

Shona nodded. “It was awful.”

“I’m so sorry,” Melanie said, giving her daughter a one-armed squeeze. “Come on. Let’s bury him properly.”

She headed up the ravine, following Rita. Lizzy retrieved her own rifle and hurried to catch up. Mark stuck close to Shona, speaking quiet, comforting words to her. They made their way back to camp, straining to hear anything out of the ordinary around them. But the whole forest seemed to have frozen in place. Nothing cried out. Nothing called. There were certainly no sounds of a galloping horse, no cries of militiamen.

When they got back to camp, with its covered sleeping area and neatly arranged firepit, Melanie thought there was something sad about it. A camp that would become a graveyard soon. The duffel bag was crumpled on the ground, a few MRE pouches set on top. Shona unclipped the canteen from her belt and dumped it unceremoniously on the ground.

“What about Nathan?” she said. “Are we just going to let the Wolverines take him?”

“First things first,” Melanie replied. “We’ll do right by your grandpa, and then we’ll worry about Nathan.”

Rita gently laid the body of Max Turner beside the firepit, placing his hands on his stomach and straightening his legs. Lizzy helped her, closing his eyes, shutting his mouth, tenderly smoothing out his blood-stained jacket.

“We don’t even have shovels,” Lizzy said, miserably. “We can’t dig a grave with our bare hands. What do we do?”

“Well, we didn’t realize it at the time, but we already kind of made a grave for him,” Rita said. She pointed at the shallow firepit. “If we widen it a bit, we can use the stones to make a cairn. We’ll have to gather a few more, but it’s a heck of a lot better than leaving him out in the open. What do you say?”

Lizzy seemed to consider this for a moment, hanging her head, then replied, “Yeah, I guess so. Let’s do it.” But as she rose, she said in a trembling whisper, “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

All of them went to work preparing the grave, gathering rocks and bringing them back to the firepit. They widened the shallow pit with their hands until it was long enough for the body.

“Shona, what about Dusty?” Melanie asked. “Did you see what happened to the dog?”

“I think she ran off after the horse,” Shona replied, carrying an armful of small stones toward the pit. “Probably wanted to rescue Nathan, or at least stay by his side.”

“You’re lucky that dog didn’t give away your hiding spot,” Rita said.

“Dusty wouldn’t do that,” Shona said. “She knew I was in trouble.”

Rita and Lizzy carried the body of Max Turner into the shallow pit, arranged him again, then used their hands to scoop dirt on top of the body. Once he was mostly covered, they all began to stack stones on top of the grave. It was a long process. By the time they finished, they’d created an oblong mound of stones where the firepit had once been.

Melanie struggled through all of his. The tingling discomfort crawling over her flesh was a fear response. She knew that. Everything in her body was crying out that they needed to get moving. That they needed to run as far away from here as possible, and as soon as possible. But she wouldn’t deny Lizzy and Shona this crude burial. They needed it.

Still, in the end, as they stood around the cairn, her thoughts were swirling wildly. Guilt, grief, fear, despair. The emotions came in waves.

I drove them too hard and too fast, she thought. They were tired. That’s why Sue Ellen managed to catch them off guard.

“Should we, like, say something?” Rita asked, wiping her muddy hands on a rag she’d taken from their supplies. “It’s the proper thing to do, right?”

“There’s nothing to say,” Lizzy replied. “It wouldn’t make me feel any better. At least he’s not lying out in the open.”

I didn’t push them too hard, Melanie thought, arguing with herself. It was the right thing to do. We had to stay ahead of the militia as best we could. If anything, I should have pushed them harder. Nathan might still be with us, and Max might still be alive.

She realized the others were looking at her. Waiting for her to say something, perhaps? Waiting for her to dismiss this makeshift funeral, such as it was.

“They killed my father, and they think they’ve gotten away with it,” Melanie said. “Took Nathan back, got their revenge, and left us to grieve out here in the middle of nowhere. That’s what they think. That’s what Sue Ellen thinks. She’s probably gloating about it.”

Rita made a disgusted sound and bared her teeth. “I hate that woman. What are we going to do about her?”

“I’m not sure there’s much we can do,” Mark replied.

Melanie looked up at the sky. They’d worked for a long time to prepare and build the cairn. How late was it now? It felt like they were edging close to midnight, but she couldn’t tell.

“Blood and suffering,” she muttered. “That’s what Sue Ellen promised, and that’s exactly what she delivered.”

“Boss, what are we going to do?” Rita asked.

And for the first time in a long time, Melanie had no idea how to answer that question. “I don’t know,” she said softly, arms crossed over her belly. “Honestly, I don’t know how to survive in this new world. At the factory, we had everything we needed. Out here, we’re lost. It was a mistake to lead you into the woods like this. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking. As a leader, I’ve failed.”

Mark laid his hand on her shoulder, and she reached up and grabbed it. His loving gesture provided only faint comfort under the circumstance.

“Standing here feeling sorry for ourselves doesn’t solve anything,” Rita said, after a moment. “We have to do something. You might think you failed, but I’m pretty sure we all still trust your judgment. You make the call. What’s our next step?”

27

Melanie was at a loss for words. As quiet seconds passed, she found herself gazing into the darkness above the clearing and finding no sure course of action. It was so quiet, so still, that she became inordinately aware of her own breathing. It seemed strangely loud, heavy with the weight of her own poor decisions. Mark stood beside her, trying to gently comfort her. Lizzy and Shona stared sadly at the cairn. Only Rita seemed antsy, ready to go.

“I’m not fit to decide our next course of action,” Melanie said finally. She hated how whiny she sounded, how vulnerable, in that moment.

She was shocked, then, when Rita suddenly burst out laughing. Everyone looked at her. It was a genuine laugh, too, from the belly, as if Rita had just heard the funniest and most absurd joke of all time. It grated on Melanie’s ears, and she felt a surge of anger.

“Are you laughing at me?” she said, speaking through clenched teeth.

“Well, I mean, come on, boss,” Rita replied. “What is this ‘I’m not fit to lead’ business? It’s ridiculous. You’ve gotten us this far, haven’t you? Yeah, we lost Max, and before that we lost Josh, but heck, we’ve been attacked repeatedly by multiple groups of crazies, and somehow most of us are unscathed. Where’s all this self-pity coming from? I honestly don’t get it.”

“Self-pity?” Melanie hated the taste of the word.

“That’s what I said.”

“She’s right, Mel,” Lizzy said. “Think about all of the crazy stuff you’ve gotten us through so far. We survived the coronal ejection, the loss of power, and all of the madness that followed. We fought for the factory over and over. Heck, we took and retook it. We stole a tank and blasted our way past the Wolverines. You got us out of that neighborhood when it had been overrun. We made it up that cliff. My father’s death isn’t the result of bad leadership. You’re the only reason most of us are still alive.”

“I didn’t mean to laugh in your face, boss,” Rita said, “but I just can’t see any reason to throw your hands in the air and say, ‘Woe is me. I’m not fit to lead.’ You’re the boss, boss. Tell us what to do. Like I said, we trust you. Get it?”

“You survived on the streets for a couple of years as a teenager,” Lizzy reminded her. “You’re not doing half bad out here in the wilderness either.”

Melanie might have been flattered under different circumstances. Maybe they just needed someone to make the decisions, someone to take the responsibility and blame. Whatever the case, she was at a loss. Shaking her head, she turned away from the cairn and pushed past Mark.

“You give me too much credit,” she said. “The only reason we got up the cliff was because of Mark’s climbing skills. And the only reason we got away from the factory in the first place was because Pop could drive the tank. I had very little to do with any of that. I didn’t spot the rabbit that night, nor did I kill it. I didn’t fire the big gun to get us past the accident on the highway. Heck, if Nathan hadn’t told me about the widow maker, I might have gotten us all killed by setting up camp beneath a giant, dead tree limb.”

She clicked off the flashlight, plunging them into darkness. It was more comforting knowing that the others could no longer see her face.

“Yeah, we worked together,” Rita said. “That’s what people do when they have good leadership. They combine all of their skills and work together. You’ve held this group together. You’ve kept us focused and moving in the right direction. That’s on you, boss, so stop—my God—stop with this moping. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Her final words stung. Indeed, Melanie was giving in to the despair hard now, and she realized she wanted to. For once, she wanted despair and hopelessness to sweep over her, to drown her, and in so doing, absolve her from all responsibility.

Realizing this, she fought back. She turned to the others, though they were little more than shadows in the night.

“All right, fine, I get it,” she said. “Combining our skills. You’re right, Rita. That’s been our strength. The reason why we’ve made it this far is because we work well together as a group. If I’ve been a competent leader, it’s been because every member of the group has contributed something important, something vital to our survival. Everyone. Including Nathan.”

“He found water,” Shona said. “Fresh water. Just like he said he would.”

“Exactly,” Melanie replied. “We’ve survived as a group. That’s what I’m saying. And without any member of our group, we’re diminished. Losing Josh hurt us. Losing Pop hurt us, too. We can’t do anything to bring them back. But losing Nathan also hurts us, and we can do something about it.”

Shona gasped. “Are we going after him? Mom, are you saying we’re going to rescue him?”

“Can we rescue him?” Mark asked.

Melanie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She considered her next words very carefully. Now was the time for a reasoned decision, not an emotional response.

“I want to survive,” she said, “but I want to survive with the people I care about. We made a little family for ourselves in that factory. Without Nathan, our family is incomplete. What’s the point of survival if we lose half the people we care about along the way? Every time we’ve ever been successful since this whole nightmare began, it was because we were together.”

She reached out for Shona, found her daughter’s hand in the darkness, and took hold.

“Yes, Shona, we’re going to rescue Nathan,” she said. “He belongs with us, not that crazy old woman.”

Rita gave a little cheer and clapped her hands. It was a bit loud, but Melanie indulged her for the moment. “Give the order, boss. I’m ready.”

“Let’s get our gear together,” Melanie said. “We’re setting out as soon as possible.”

28

Mark took the backpack, and Rita shouldered the duffel bag. Weapons in hand, they set off across the clearing. Melanie led them north, back into the trees. It didn’t take long to find the tracks left by the horse. It was shod, and the horseshoes left deep impressions on the soft ground. It might as well have been a dotted line leading them to their enemy. Still, Melanie stayed low, following the trail. Rita was behind her, then Lizzy and Shona, with Mark bringing up the rear.

“They have a huge lead,” Rita noted. “Heck, by now, they could be all the way back to the factory.”

“Surely they would have camped somewhere last night,” Melanie said. “The men will need food, water, sleep, maybe medical treatment.”

“And what do we do when we find them?” Lizzy asked.

“That depends,” Melanie said. “Let’s worry about finding them first.”

The hoofprints trailed off to the northeast. As best Melanie could tell, they had taken a broad loop to find a way around the cliff. Nevertheless, they seemed to have made good time. There was no sound, no indication that they were anywhere close to the militia. As the night hours wore on, her confidence faltered again, though she dared not speak her mind.

We’ll never catch up to them, she thought. Nathan is lost to us, and we’ll never avenge Pop’s death. This is a fruitless endeavor—a complete waste of time.

The tracks led them far to the east of the cliff, to a more gradual slope that led down to the lower part of the forest. From here, the tracks curved back to the north. It was slow going, and Melanie felt a growing weight inside of her. The despair caused her to lose steam, and she realized she was slowing down. Thirsty and hungry, sore and tired, she began to daydream about stopping for a long rest. What difference would it make, anyway?

“Hang in there, boss,” Rita said. She kept inadvertently taking the lead, but each time she did, she slowed and waited for Melanie to pass her again. “They can’t run all night, surely. They have to camp somewhere.”

“Can’t they?” Melanie replied. “If Sue Ellen pushes them through the night, they’ll do what she says.”

“Sue Ellen will join up with the rest of her forces at some point,” Rita said, “and they’ll find a place to park for the night. Mark my words. Don’t throw in the towel just yet.”

“I just hope we find them before the sun rises,” Melanie said. “We need the cover of darkness to make our move.” She was failing to do her job, and she knew it. The group needed leadership and inspiration, not moping, as Rita had called it, so she cleared her throat and said, “Okay, let’s just hang in there, folks. We’ll catch them.”

The tracks eventually veered off to the east again, aiming for a section of the forest that was more spacious, where trees were spread out. Melanie felt herself reaching some kind of breaking point. Her head was pounding again, a sharp stabbing pain that started somewhere behind her eyes and pulsed to the base of her skull every few seconds. On top of that, her back and legs were sore, the arches of her feet hurt, and she was famished.

Still, she pressed on. The others, except for Rita, looked like they were suffering just as much, but no one complained. They knew there was no other course of action. If they wanted to get Nathan back, they just had to keep moving. Eventually, Shona passed around the canteen. It was their only fresh water. Melanie encouraged them to drink sparingly, but they still managed to empty more than half of the canteen.

“Once we get Nathan back, he can find us more water,” Shona said. “He went right to it before, like he had a sixth sense. You should’ve seen it, Mom.”

“I’m sure,” she replied. “He’s a smart kid.”

Melanie kept the flashlight pointed at the ground directly in front of her, following the dotted line of the horse’s tracks. It seemed to be moving purposefully now, drawing a straight line to somewhere.

“We have to be close,” Lizzy said, out of breath and struggling with every step. “These people aren’t moving at the speed of sound.”

“Keep your eyes and ears open for anything unusual,” Melanie said. “Anything at all.”

Not long after, they topped a small rise that brought them just above the nearest treetops, and Melanie spotted a faint, flickering light in the distance. It was small and red, smoking thickly but clearly well-contained. She came to a stop and signaled at the others to do the same.

“That’s a campfire right there,” she said. She spotted another one farther on. “Two campfires, at least.”

“Oh, gosh, they’re miles and miles away,” Lizzy said with a groan.

“It’s them,” Rita said. “The militia.”

“Are you sure?” Mark asked. “Two campfires. Wouldn’t the militia need more fires than that for all of their people?”

“They don’t need any fires at all,” Melanie replied. “It’s an indulgence. Liz, I don’t think the fires are as far as they seem. I think they’re just really small. Maybe a few hundred yards. It’s them. Rita’s right about that. I can feel it.”

She heard Rita dump the duffel bag on the ground. It seemed even their hardiest member had finally reached some kind of limit.

“Okay, so we finally caught up with them,” Lizzy said, struggling to catch her breath. “What do we do now? How are we supposed to get in there, find Nathan, and get out?”

“Well, first of all, we’re going to sneak closer to the camp and spy on them so we know what we’re dealing with,” Melanie replied. “Shona, pass around the canteen again. We’ll drink the rest of the water. We need a second wind here, folks. The next part of the plan is going to be somewhat grueling.”

“Like the rest of it hasn’t been?” Lizzy said with a little snort.

“Lizzy, come up here beside me,” Melanie said, beckoning her friend with a wave of the red light. “You and I are going to crawl as close to the camp as we can get and try to check it out. The rest of you hang back maybe fifty yards or so.”

“Why me?” Lizzy said.

“Because you’re small and quiet,” Melanie replied. “Not as small and quiet as Shona, but you’re an adult. Come on.”

“You sure you don’t want me tagging along, boss?” Rita said.

“Rita, I’ll need you when the shooting starts,” Melanie replied. “For now, stay here and guard Mark and Shona.”

Rita sighed. “Whatever you want.”

Melanie dropped low, moving in a crouch down the slope. Lizzy came up beside her, and they crept through the woods in the direction of the nearest campfire. Melanie’s sore legs cried out in protest, but she kept going. Lizzy was crawling on her hands and knees, her rifle across her back. Everything around them wanted to give away their position: leaves on the ground, branches, twigs, rocks.

Within a few minutes, Melanie became aware of voices in the distance, and she saw orange light flickering through gaps in the trees ahead of them. Melanie crawled closer, headed toward a large rock between two trees, practically on her belly. Then she dared to raise her head, peering over the top. She could now clearly make out the figures of men around the fire. She counted eight of them. Just then, Lizzy came up beside her, breathing just a little too loudly from all of the exertion. Melanie pressed a finger to her lip and tapped her ear, and Lizzy nodded.

As she studied the distant campfire, she made out two other figures off to one side. The smaller of the two was sitting on the ground with his back against an enormous oak tree. His hands were propped on his knees, wrists handcuffed together. When the wind moved a branch, she caught a glimpse of his face. Nathan. The other figure loomed over him, standing tall in her black uniform, long-brimmed black hat, and shiny boots. Sue Ellen.

She handcuffed her own son, Melanie thought, disturbed by the sight of it. Who would do such a thing to her own child? No wonder he didn’t want to go with her.

She crept out from behind the rock and inched closer, aiming for another rock closer to the camp. As she drew near, Sue Ellen began to speak.

“You’re going to have to say something to me sooner or later, Nathan,” Sue Ellen said in that coarse, damaged voice. “Rather than play this childish game, why don’t we have a real conversation like adults?”

Her hands were planted on her hips, one hand alarmingly close to the holster at her belt. But Nathan wouldn’t look at her. His gaze was fixed on the ground at his feet. The other militia members were shuffling their feet and idly pacing around the campsite, clearly uncomfortable being part of this mother-son showdown.

“Look at me,” Sue Ellen said. “Be a man and look at me.”

But Nathan dropped his gaze even more, staring at his own cuffed hands. Sue Ellen squatted in front of him, tipping her head down, as if she thought she could force him to make eye contact by sheer force of will. She started to reach out, as if to take his hand, but he jerked his hands back.

“Somehow, you’ve got this all turned around,” she said. “You’re treating me like the villain, but I’m a mother trying to rescue her wayward son from a bunch of pirates—squatters who were living in your father’s factory. Do you get that? Just because you were willing to go with them doesn’t make it right. Just because you wanted to go doesn’t give them the right to take you. In the eyes of the law, that’s kidnapping.”

“In the eyes of God, that’s taking a kid out of an abusive home,” Nathan said sharply, his head coming up as he made brief, hateful eye contact with his mother. “That’s helping a kid escape a brainwashed cult of maniacs and murderers led by a woman who has clearly gone off the deep end! Where did you get all the Army vehicles, Mom? You don’t even have to tell me, because I can guess. You stole them. You stole them from some Army depot somewhere, and you probably killed people in the process. How dare you call my friends pirates! I know what you are!”

Sue Ellen’s response was swift, instinctive. She lashed out with her right hand, slapping him across the face. Her aim was perfect, palm to cheek, the sound like a gunshot from a large-caliber pistol. Nathan’s head rocked against his right shoulder.

Melanie heard Lizzy gasp and frantically tapped a finger against her lips. But Lizzy’s whole body had tensed up, and she grabbed the strap of her rifle. Melanie held a hand up in front of her face and gave her a meaningful look.

“Did that make you feel better?” Nathan said, grabbing his cheek. It sounded like he was crying.

“You were asking for it,” Sue Ellen replied, standing up again. “You’ve got too much of your father’s mouth. It was his big mouth that got him killed. Cooper told me all about it. Well, I don’t put up with that. I didn’t take it from Derrick, and I won’t take it from you. So you can just sit there for a while and think about your actions.”

“Oh, I will,” he muttered, bowing his head again, still cupping his face. “I’ll think about a lot. Trust me.”

Sue Ellen backed up and took a seat on a small camp stool, facing the fire. A few of the militiamen strode off, as if tending to various tasks, but the rest lingered. Melanie thought she heard a couple of them chuckling. She considered their predicament. How could they get Nathan out of there? She needed a more thorough understanding of the camp’s layout.

She motioned for Lizzy to follow her and crept away from their hiding spot, intending to circle around the camp. It was incredibly slow, inching along on a meandering path that gave them plenty of places to hide. Gradually, she came in sight of two other campfires. The fires were within about twenty yards of each other, and she could see men moving back and forth between them. Most of the men remained standing, weapons near at hand, a few gazing off into the woods.

As she moved around the camp, Melanie tried to memorize the positions of the men, the fires, their supplies, their weapons. They all wore tactical vests, but some were also clearly wearing Kevlar vests. Eventually, Melanie and Lizzy circled back around to the first fire, where Sue Ellen was sitting with one of her men and quietly discussing something, as Nathan sat with his eyes closed. Just then, one of the militiamen stepped away from the fire, moving into the trees in Melanie and Lizzy’s general direction. The guard stopped, a rifle in his arms, and gazed off into the darkening forest for a few minutes. She waited, breath held, and finally he turned and headed in another direction.

Beckoning Lizzy, Melanie carefully backed away, then turned and picked her way back toward the others. It took a good half hour or more, first crawling, then duckwalking through the forest. Eventually, they stepped out of trees into a small clearing and spotted the others gathered on the rise above. Rita had her rifle propped on a rock, taking the position of lookout, so she spotted them first.

“There you are,” she said quietly. “I didn’t know if we’d see you again or not, boss.”

Shona crawled up beside her, and even in the darkness, Melanie could see the glint of faint light on her widened eyes.

“What did you see, Mom?” she asked. “Was he there? Did you find him?”

“He’s there,” Melanie replied. “Sue Ellen is with him. They are sitting at the central campfire, next to an enormous oak tree. You can’t miss it.”

“Is he okay?” Shona asked.

“It wasn’t going well for him,” Lizzy said. “Mom and son don’t like each other, and Mom is mean.”

“Of course she’s mean,” Shona said. “He told us she’s mean. Oh, I despise that woman!”

Melanie made her way up the slope, beckoning the others to gather in close. Rita, Mark, and Shona approached. And suddenly, to her surprise, she heard the soft padding of animal feet nearby as another figure approached. Looking past Mark, she saw a small figure coming toward them.

“Guys, it’s Dusty,” she said. “Look. She’s found us!”

Dusty went right to Shona, and Shona wrapped her arms around her. “I’m glad you’re okay, girl. I was worried about you. Nathan will be so glad to see you again.”

Dusty panted and licked Shona’s face, and the others reached out the pet the animal.

“It’s like having our mascot back,” Lizzy said.

“Yeah, but Shona, you’ll really have to make sure she stays calm,” Melanie said. “Things might get loud.”

“Dusty will behave,” Shona said. “She always does.”

“Okay, I’ll leave her in your hands,” Melanie said. She motioned for the others to come close again. “Now, let me tell you what I saw.”

Then Melanie carefully recounted all that they had seen and heard in the camp, focusing particularly on the layout and positions of the men.

“You said the central fire was built really close to a large oak tree,” Rita said.

“Yes, Nathan had his back against the trunk,” Melanie replied.

“And the guards are all standing around the fire?”

“Correct.”

“Their night vision is going to be ruined. You realize that?” Rita said. “As long as none of us stare directly at the flames, we’ll be able to see a lot better than they will.”

“That’s true,” Melanie said.

“But how can we get Nathan away from so many people?” Shona said. “Especially if they’re all armed. Even in the dark, can we really take them all out?”

Melanie had been concocting a plan on the way back, and she began putting the final pieces together in her head now. Ironically, Nathan had planted the idea days earlier without realizing it. She turned to Rita now.

“You’re a good climber, Rita,” she said. “How would you like to clamber up another tree for us?” The backpack was on the ground in front of Mark, and she unzipped the big pocket. She fished around inside and pulled out a small bundle of rope.

“I’m up for a climb,” Rita replied. “What did you have in mind?”

Melanie glanced at her, meeting her shadowy gaze in the dim light. “We’re going to create a widow maker,” she said, handing the rope to Rita. “And drop it on a few heads.”

Rita made a soft sound, almost a laugh, and shook her head. “I always wanted to try that. It’s so much more interesting than trading bullets with people.”

Rita seemed to be enjoying this a little too much, but under the circumstances, Melanie thought that might be to their advantage. Melanie dug through the duffel bag next until she found another smoke bomb. She handed the small white cylinder to Lizzy.

“The goal is to create chaos,” Melanie said. “Drop the branch, set off the smoke bomb, and pick them off as they panic. We don’t need to kill them all. That’s not even feasible. We just have to clear the way, so we can get Nathan. Now, let’s talk through the rest of the plan.”

29

“Shona, I want you in the back of the group,” Melanie said, as they made their way back down toward the trees. “Stay close to your father. He’ll cover for you. Don’t stand out in the open, and keep Dusty contained.”

“But I’m the smallest person in the group,” Shona protested. She raised her voice, so Melanie shushed her. “Mom, it’ll be easier for me to sneak in during the chaos and grab Nathan. I’m less likely to be seen.”

“That’s not a risk I’m willing to take,” Melanie said. “Nathan’s going to feel really bad if you get shot trying to rescue him. No, you stay back out of the way. We have a plan. Let’s stick with it.”

To this, Shona grumbled under her breath, but she didn’t offer any further resistance. Melanie led the group back down into the forest, attempting to follow roughly the same path as before. Lizzy and Rita were right behind her, Mark and Shona at the back. Dusty followed at a distance. Melanie had considered tying the dog to a tree temporarily, but in the end, she was afraid to leave her behind in case they wound up fleeing in a different direction. The dog had been through so much already, and she’d never given them away or gotten them in trouble.

It was close to morning. Melanie could tell by the quality of the light. They wouldn’t have the cover of shadows for much longer. Indeed, approaching the camp in full daylight would be close to impossible, so they had to get this done. No lingering, no second thoughts.

They’d left some evidence of their previous passage, so she followed the trail of foot and hand prints, broken branches, and disturbed bushes. Slowly, the flickering orange light grew stronger through the trees. Then she heard hushed voices.

The enormous oak that Nathan had been sitting against was obvious from a distance. It was a huge old tree that was angled slightly over the camp. Indeed, smoke from the fire had drifted up to the branches, where it had gathered to create a kind of smoky ceiling. Nathan was just visible through a gap in some bushes, bent forward, his face pressed against his knees.

Melanie turned and made eye contact with Rita. Rita held up the nylon rope, gave Melanie a thumbs-up, then crept forward. They had discussed the plan in detail, but now that it was unfolding, it felt like chaos. Sheer insanity.

Are we really doing this? Melanie thought as she watched Rita creep around to the back of the giant oak. She kept the trunk between herself and the camp. At the moment, the guards seemed to be lounging around the fire, some of them edging toward sleep. It seemed Sue Ellen had kept them up all night. Of course, Melanie and her group had been up all night as well, so it was really a question of who would collapse first.

As Rita approached the tree, crawling like some kind of jungle cat, Melanie heard Lizzy’s anxious breathing behind her. She glanced back and saw the smoke bomb clutched in her fist. Lizzy had a stray leaf stuck in her hair, so Melanie picked it out and cast it aside.

When she turned back around, she saw Rita pulling herself up into the tree. The first branch gave a soft but distinct groan as soon as it bore her weight. Fortunately, there was a little bit of background noise from the wind blowing through the forest. Still, Melanie held her breath. She had her rifle in her right hand, and she pulled it close. Mark had his Remington 700, and he’d taken a sniper’s position in the crook of two large branches.

Sue Ellen said something then. She spoke too softly to make out the words, but the hoarse voice was unmistakable. In the distance, Nathan briefly lifted his head to look at her. His mouth moved, as if he were replying, then he lowered his face to his knees again. By then, Rita was already making her way up the trunk, moving from branch to branch, but testing every step carefully.

The widow maker branch was obvious, an enormous blackened limb that hung high over the camp. Despite its size, it looked like a stiff breeze might dislodge it. Since they couldn’t count on a stiff breeze, they’d decided to use Rita’s strength. As Rita pulled herself toward the base of the enormous dying branch, the tree groaned again, louder this time. Her right heel dislodged a small twig, which spun down to the ground.

Melanie froze, felt her heart pounding in her throat, and heard a soft clatter behind her as Mark took aim. Some of the guards shifted, but she couldn’t tell if they’d been drawn by the sound. As for Rita, she pressed herself against the trunk and drew her arms in against her sides. A few tense seconds passed, then Nathan raised his head, look in the direction of Sue Ellen, and appeared to mouth something to her. She took a step toward him and raised her hand, as if she were about to slap him again. He bowed his head again, and she lowered her hand.

Kid, whatever you just said may have saved our lives, Melanie thought. Surely it hadn’t been intentional. Nathan didn’t know they were coming to rescue him. He certainly couldn’t know that they were right outside the camp at that very moment.

Working slowly, deliberately, Rita unrolled the rope and tied one end around the big dying branch. Then she took the other end of the rope and wrapped it around her right hand. Once that was done, she raised her other hand and made a little signal over her head. That was it. Time to go.

Melanie looked over her shoulder, nodding first at Mark, then at Lizzy. Lizzy was sweating profusely, the beads of sweat glistening in the orange glow of the fire. She struggled with the pin on the smoke bomb for a second. When it finally pulled loose, it made a distinct and quite loud metallic sound. Melanie instantly sensed movement in the camp. A few of the guards rose, turning in their direction. Even Nathan looked up suddenly.

Lizzy took a step forward and threw the bomb, lobbing it in a near-perfect arc to the windward edge of the camp. It bounced off a trunk and came to rest among the roots. A cry went up from the camp, but already the great billows of smoke were being blown toward the men.

Melanie grabbed her rifle, beckoned with her right hand, and rushed forward. She heard the sounds of alarm quickly moving through the camp, as Mark came out from hiding and moved off to the right. He had his own role to play now—namely, untying the horse and setting it loose so Sue Ellen couldn’t use it to chase them. Melanie could only hope and pray for the best. The smoke was quickly consuming everything before her. She heard militiamen scrambling about within the choking cloud. Then she heard the crack of rifles. Brief flashes deep in the smoke. Sue Ellen cried out hoarsely, though the shouting of her men muffled her voice.

Raising the Weatherby rifle, Melanie raced ahead, Lizzy at her back.

This it is, she thought. No turning back now.

30

It didn’t take long to realize something was off. The cloud of smoke was so thick around the forward camp that it almost looked solid. Its ascent was being slowed by the heavy limbs, but it was also being blown back against the denser part of the forest by the wind. She heard guards moving. They even took a few shots, though she couldn’t tell where the bullets were going.

What was the problem, then? She couldn’t pinpoint it, even as she picked her way from cover to cover, trying to approach the central campfire safely. Mark was somewhere off to the right. She heard his footsteps moving to a spot a short distance away. Lizzy was following behind her, and Shona, hopefully, was still in hiding.

As she scrambled into a space behind a large rock, the smoke finally reached her, swept toward her by a brief change in the wind’s direction. Instantly, it made her eyes water. She fought a sudden, desperate need to cough, to retch. And in that moment, feeling the scratching in her throat, it occurred to her what was wrong.

The militiamen and their leader were moving around deep in the smoke. They were shouting back and forth, but none of them were coughing. No gagging. No retching. How could it be? How were they able to tolerate all of this thick smoke?

“Where do we go? How do we get to him?” Lizzy said in a strangled hiss as she dropped down beside Melanie. “They’re shooting at us.”

Indeed, as soon as she said it, the militiamen took a few more shots. The smoke was spreading farther and wider, creeping through the forest. Melanie rose, stepped out from behind the rock, and raced toward the campfire, looking for the next cover spot. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the smoke, striding with purpose. He was covered in black from head to toe.

He was less than ten feet away and closing fast. Melanie reacted almost without thinking. Her rifle was already pointed in his general direction because she’d kept it aimed toward the camp. Startled, her finger twitched, and the gun fired. It kicked hard, the bullet catching the man in the guts below his tactical vest.

He took one more step forward, as if the pain hadn’t reached his brain yet. Then he dropped, flopping forward, landing right on top of his rifle, and rolling to one side. Melanie ducked down and shuffled toward the body. She couldn’t see his face despite the glow of firelight which reflected in the smoke like a glowing haze. As she got closer, she realized he was wearing a gas mask. It seemed to have been hastily pulled on, as one of the two latches in back was undone.

Melanie scarcely had time to consider this. She grabbed the barrel of the man’s rifle and struggled to pull it out from under him. Lizzy came up behind her then, and Melanie passed her the Weatherby. Lizzy already had her AR-15, so she slung the Weatherby over her shoulder.

“I feel like a walking armory,” she muttered.

“Shoot anyone in black who comes out of that smoke,” Melanie said. “Don’t hesitate or we’re dead.”

Lizzy stepped to one side and aimed into the deepest, thickest part of the smoke. Just then, Sue Elle’s broken voice drifted out of the depths.

“This way. This way. Gather up. Fire. Don’t let anyone approach.”

Melanie finally worked the rifle free of the dead man and pulled it toward herself. It looked like an old AK-47 that had been salvaged. Someone had tried to fancy it up with a coat of black paint and a crude red decal of some animal that she assumed was meant to be a wolverine.

They learned their lesson after the tank assault, Melanie thought, as she ducked behind the nearest tree. The smoke isn’t going to drive them away this time. They prepared for another smoke bomb when they came to take Nathan back.

She heard a few more gunshots in the smoke. Mark and Shona were out there somewhere. Had Mark managed to reach his destination? She couldn’t tell. She heard only the shouting of the militiamen and the occasional gunshot. Lizzy pushed in beside her, trying to squeeze behind the small tree. The smoke around them was getting thicker, making Melanie’s eyes continually water.

“I think the smoke is only hurting us,” Melanie said. “They must’ve had gas masks in their supplies. They can hunker down and wait until the smoke passes, pick us off if we get close.”

“What do we do?” Lizzy asked. When another gunshot rang out from somewhere in the smoke, she ducked down and held the Weatherby up over her head like a shield. “Do we retreat?”

“No, we have to save Nathan,” Melanie said. “It’s now or never. Just keep the gun handy. Be ready to fire, but stay low. Use cover.”

“We could regroup,” Lizzy said. “Find the others, circle the camp, and come at them from a better direction.”

“Nope, this is it,” Melanie replied. She pushed past the tree and took off into the thickest smoke, raising the rifle as she went. It was heavy and clunky in her hands, but she found the trigger. That was enough. She heard Lizzy behind her.

A dark shape moved in the smoke before her. Just before the man disappeared, she managed to aim and take a shot in his direction. The bullet cut through the smoke, but she couldn’t tell if it hit anyone.

This is taking too long, she thought. I have to stop zigzagging and go straight for Nathan, even if it’s a risk.

And then she heard a series of gunshots. More than one at the same time. Though the sound echoed throughout the forest, it was clear that these shots had come from somewhere behind her. One of them might have been Mark, but what about the others?

In her panic, she almost stopped, and that made her trip over her own feet. She went down, landing on her knees in a soft, muddy spot. Lizzy then ran into her back and stumbled to one side before dropping as well. Melanie glanced back as more shots rang out. She thought she saw a muzzle flash somewhere behind her.

Suddenly, her motherly instincts kicked in full blast, and she felt a desperate urge to run back toward Shona. She even took a step in that direction, but Lizzy grabbed her arm.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyes wide, rimmed red from all the smoke. “You said this is it. Did you change your mind? Are we going back?”

Melanie shook her head. “No, let’s get this over with. Come on.” Still, it took a furious act of will to act against her instincts. She turned back toward the campfire. She was close enough now that she could see the shape of it through the wall of smoke. Picking herself up, she rushed toward it, even as more shots rang out behind her from multiple directions.

Somehow, I’ve been surrounded, she thought, the white-hot panic spreading all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. How do I get out of here alive? Rita, you’d better make your move soon.

31

A sudden crack rang out, so fierce that it seemed to shake in the ground around her. Melanie stumbled and almost lost her balance again. She saw some sturdy shape to her right, still veiled in the smoke, and she moved toward it. As she thrust her shoulder against it for support, she realized it was the trunk of the large oak tree.

The crack turned into a quick series of enormous booms, as the widow maker branch crashed down from above. Melanie felt a vibration in the bark of the tree, even as dark shapes moved about beyond the campfire. She was vaguely aware of Lizzy moving up beside her. And then the branch slammed onto the camp.

It was so large that it could have been the trunk of a sizable tree all on its own. As it swept down onto the camp, it blasted the smoke apart, like the parting of curtains. Suddenly, Melanie saw the flickering fire in its ring of stones. She saw four or five militiamen crouched behind it and aiming their rifles in different directions. Each of them had gas masks, and they seemed to have positioned themselves in defensive positions around a large stack of gear in bags and supply crates.

She did not, however, see Sue Ellen or Nathan. Then the branch hit the ground, blowing the campfire out in a sudden violent rush. Melanie felt the moment of impact rising up through the soles of her feet. It made her teeth clatter, and Lizzy fell against her back. Just before the campfire went out, she saw that the biggest part of the branch had crashed right on top of their gear, smashing through bags and boxes like they were made of soft clay. Two of the militiamen guarding the gear managed to dive out of the way. The other two disappeared beneath the branch.

And then the smoke swept back in and covered the camp again. However, once the fire was out, Melanie realized there was other light now. A faint pinkness shone through the forest from the west. The sun was up.

“He’s gone,” Melanie said, ducking back behind the enormous oak. “Nathan isn’t there.”

Something moved above her. She fumbled with the heavy rifle, trying to get it aimed in the right direction. Then the body came down the tree, and she saw Rita above her. She was perched on the side of the trunk, holding herself aloft by gripping a branch above her. As soon as she spotted Melanie, she gave her a little salute.

“I got them, boss,” she said. “What do you think? We took out a couple of baddies, at least. Maybe more if they were on the other side of that stack of stuff. Go swipe the kid and let’s get out of here.”

“Nathan’s gone,” Melanie replied. She passed the AK-47 up to Rita. “Take this. Climb back up. Try to pick off the enemy, if you can.”

Rita grabbed the gun with her free hand. “What about you, boss? Any idea where they took the kid?”

“Deeper into the camp, I assume,” Melanie replied. “I’m going after them. Cover for me.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Rita said, “but you’re the boss, boss. I’ve got you covered.” And with that, Rita scrambled back up the tree and soon disappeared.

From deeper in the camp, Melanie heard many voices, and more gunshots. But she also heard shouting coming from other directions. She considered what she was about to do, and it seemed overwhelmingly dangerous.

“We’re going deeper into the camp?” Lizzy said, in an anxious whisper. “Did you really mean it when you said that?”

“Yeah,” Melanie said with a sigh. “I don’t know what else to do. We have to find Nathan. If we turn back now, I’ll never be able to live with myself. Come on.”

They no longer had the cover of night. The morning sun had just begun to shine. It was still fragile, low enough to cast long shadows, but it felt like being exposed. Melanie poked her head around the enormous tree and looked in the direction of the camp. The smoke had begun to dissipate. A few glowing embers, residue of the scattered campfire, were visible. Beyond them, she saw the absolute wreckage of the supplies, crushed right down the middle by the tree branch. She also saw two legs sticking out from under the branch—an arm, a shoulder.

The surviving guards were no longer there, but she thought she heard footsteps retreating into the camp, headed in the direction of the other fires. She crept out from behind the tree and dashed toward the fallen branch, moving low. As she did, she heard the crack of the AK-47 from somewhere high above her. It was followed by a soft sound that might have been Rita chuckling to herself.

As she reached the ashes of the fire, she spotted one of the dead men’s rifles. She still didn’t know rifle models all that well, but it was old and had a folding stock and an extra-long magazine. Maybe an SKS, an old Soviet rifle? She grabbed it, checked to make sure it hadn’t been damaged, then continued on past the dead men.

“This is crazy,” Lizzy said, struggling to keep up. “What about Mark and Shona? What about Dusty? We don’t know where anyone is, or what’s going on!”

“I know,” Melanie replied. “I’m trusting Mark to get his task done. Our job is to grab the kid and run. That’s what we’re going to do.”

She circled around the crushed supplies, hopping over a large canvas bag that had survived. The underbrush was especially thick here, but the militia had carved a clear path that Melanie assumed led to the other campfires. Suddenly, she heard a distinctive voice crying out from somewhere ahead of her.

“Help me! Help me!” It was Nathan, and he sounded truly desperate. “I’m here!”

“Oh, God, what are they doing to him?” Lizzy muttered.

Melanie moved toward the gap and the cleared path beyond. She heard more shouting now. It seemed concentrated in front of her. Rita fired again from her perch high in the oak tree, two shots in quick succession.

“Help me, ma’am! Please!”

Nathan again. Melanie decided to risk responding to him. It was dangerous and might give her position away, but at least she had Rita covering for her. “Nathan, where are you?”

“I’m here,” he said. “Straight ahead!”

Indeed, it sounded like he was a short distance down the path ahead. Raising the SKS, Melanie stepped through the gap, moving low, her finger against the trigger. Lizzy came with her, moving slightly to one side, the AR-15 seated against her shoulder and ready to fire. The path cut a gradual arc from the crushed supplies toward the next campfire. Orange light still flickered between the branches, though morning light had now diminished its strength.

Suddenly, Melanie heard someone moving through the bushes to her left. She wheeled in that direction and spotted a black figure pushing through the dense undergrowth. Firelight shone off the metal curve of a gas mask filter. Melanie fired, and he cried out. Shoving through the brush, he crashed down onto the path. An enormous man in the black uniform of the Wolverine Militia. He had a rifle in his hands, and he was moaning softly. Melanie stooped down and grabbed it, pulling it out of his hands.

“Take this,” she said, passing it back to Lizzy. Another AR-15. It seemed to be the preferred model of these guys.

“But I have too many guns already,” Lizzy said.

“Well, put it over your shoulder then,” Melanie said. “It’ll be your second backup weapon. I don’t want to leave weapons lying around.”

With a frown, Lizzy took the rifle and slung it over her shoulder. Nathan cried out again. No words this time, just a desperate sound. Melanie rushed toward the sound. Ahead, the path entered a small man-made clearing, where it seemed the grass and branches had been hacked. Light from one of the campfires shone across this space, casting a long shadow from one side that seemed to be dancing back and forth.

Melanie felt a kind of tingling horror moving through her body. It was a strange, uncomfortable sensation, but she’d felt it in every violent confrontation since the EMP. It never went away. If anything, she’d only learned how to keep acting despite the feeling. At least it made her twitchy, quick to react, ready to fire in a fraction of a second.

As she entered the clearing, the source of the long shadow came into view. Two figures standing silhouetted in the firelight. One of them was draped all in black, with a bulky gas mask over her face. Her eyes, wild and filled with a hateful light, were just visible through the glass eyeholes. The other figure wore a winter coat, but it was unzipped to reveal a t-shirt beneath covered in anime characters. His jeans were dirty, his shoes muddy, his hair all in disarray.

Sue Ellen had her right arm curled tightly around Nathan’s neck, pulling him in close against her. He was rather scrawny beside his mother, clearly no match for her strength. With her left hand, she had a big black Glock 19 pressed against his temple. He struggled a bit, but his arms were pulled behind his back, clearly bound.

“Don’t let her kill me,” Nathan said, voice strained by the arm pressed against his throat. “She’s gone nuts. She’ll do it!”

Melanie raised the SKS, aiming at a spot squarely between the eyeholes of the gas mask.

Can I kill her fast enough to prevent her from pulling the trigger? she wondered, even as she gazed down the rifle sight and braced herself for the kick.

32

“You’re not going to shoot your own son,” Melanie said. “I don’t think even you are that crazy.”

For a few tense seconds, Sue Ellen said nothing. She had planted her feet and wasn’t moving. Nathan continued to struggle in her grasp, but he couldn’t break free. Lizzy came into the clearing then, stepping around Melanie and seeing the figures standing across from them. She gasped loudly and lowered her weapon.

“This woman is off her rocker,” she said. “She fought and fought to get him back, and now she’s threatening to kill him.”

Lizzy started to raise her rifle again, then seemed to reconsider.

“It’s an empty threat,” Melanie said. “Killing him is not much different than losing him. Either way, she would walk away from here without her son, and I doubt she’s willing to do that. Let him go, Sue Ellen.”

And to her surprise, the woman responded by laughing. It wasn’t some forced laugh, an affected sound meant to make her seem more threatening. No, this seemed genuine, as if she were truly amused by the words and behavior of Melanie and Lizzy. Possibly amused by this whole sick situation. Still laughing, she reached up with her right hand, keeping the arm curled around Nathan’s neck, and lifted her gas mask. This took off her long-brimmed hat as well, revealing the woman in all her glory.

The sharp angles of her face seemed much deeper in silhouette, like crevices carved in stone, and her tanned skin was damp with sweat. Her short hair was stuck in sweaty tangles that kept the vague shape of her cap.

“It’s over,” she said. Her voice was so rough now, she scarcely sounded human. “Your little rescue attempt has failed. My men have you surrounded, and we’ve cut off the rest of your group.”

“You’re not going to shoot your son,” Melanie said again. “I don’t buy your bluff. In about three seconds, I’m going to pull this trigger, and we’ll see what happens.”

The remnants of Sue Ellen’s smile slowly evaporated. “If I can’t have him, no one can.”

“I don’t buy it,” Melanie said again. “You’ve got two seconds.”

Nathan struggled in her grasp. “She’s crazy. She already hit me a few times, ma’am. She might do it. Please, don’t let her kill me!” He had tears in his eyes, though that might have been from the smoke.

“She won’t shoot you,” Melanie said. Was she so sure? Whether the kid realized it or not, Melanie was bluffing, too, but she needed Sue Ellen’s gun to move. “Nathan, she won’t shoot you, and later, once she’s dragged you away from here, she’ll apologize and give you a big whiny explanation and a fake apology. ‘Oh, you know I never would have pulled that trigger, son. I was just trying to get away from those pirates.’”

“You think you know me so well?” Sue Ellen rasped.

“Well enough,” Melanie said. “You’re not as smart as you think. Or as cunning. Or as dangerous. Now, are you ready to die?” Melanie shifted the rifle, aiming for the lower half of her face.

Sue Ellen gave her a flat, cold look for a seconds, then said, softly, “Very well. You’re first, you scum.”

And with that, she swung her pistol away from Nathan. Despite her obvious exhaustion and the crazed light in her eyes, Melanie was shocked at her speed. As she moved, she also stepped back and to one side, dragging Nathan in front of her.

Melanie came very close to shooting Nathan, as she dropped down and shuffled to one side. Sue Ellen took a shot at the spot where she had been. The sound was ear-piercing in the clearing.

“Mom, stop it,” Nathan cried. “Don’t kill my friends!”

He twisted to one side and managed to break free. She grabbed at him. At the same time, she fired wildly in the general direction of Melanie and Lizzy, forcing them both to seek cover. Melanie ducked behind the nearest tree, and Lizzy dropped flat onto the ground.

“No, you don’t,” Sue Ellen rasped. “You can’t go with them.”

“Leave me alone,” Nathan shouted.

He thrust his shoulder at her, caught her in the side, and shoved her. Though he wasn’t quite strong enough to push her over, he tipped her just enough to make her lose her balance. She took a few corrective steps to keep from falling, and in the process, she ceased firing, swinging both arms wildly. Melanie stepped out from behind the tree and took aim. As she did, she sensed Lizzy rising from the ground to her left, aiming the AR-15.

They both fired at the same time. The SKS and AR-15 hit a slightly different deafening pitch when they fired, creating a weird kind of harmony, like two screamed notes on the same musical scale. Melanie’s bullet hit Sue Ellen on the shoulder strap of her tactical vest, above the padding. The stretchy fabric burst at both the entrance and exit wounds. Not a perfect shot. Certainly not fatal.

Lizzy, on the other hand, by skill or luck, hit her right in the face, the bullet punching a neat hole in her right cheek before exploding out the back of her skull. Fortunately, Nathan was turned away from her and didn’t see the moment. Sue Ellen managed a single, short cry. Then she fell backward, the pistol dropping from strengthless fingers. She unleashed a sharp breath as she hit the ground.

“That was for my father,” Lizzy said, pushing herself to her feet. “Blood and suffering, you witch.”

Lizzy stumbled toward the body. Sue Ellen was no longer moving, no longer breathing, utterly still, but Lizzy stood at her feet for a moment, looming over her. Finally, she flung her rifle to the ground beside her and burst into tears.

“You vile woman,” she said, voice cracking. “How dare you take him from me! How dare you put a gun to Nathan’s head! How dare you!”

Melanie was afraid she was getting worked up, so she shouldered the SKS and ran to her. Nathan was on the ground, still crawling away. He finally reached a tree and pressed himself against it, burying his face against the trunk.

“It’s okay, Lizzy,” Melanie said, putting her arms around her friend. “You got her. She’s dead. We’re all fine.”

Lizzy seemed to be fighting the tears, trying to fend off her sobbing, and not entirely winning the battle.

“For my father,” she said again, softly. “For my father.”

33

It was the sound of gunshots in the distance that broke them both out of the victorious moment. Melanie pushed away from Lizzy and grabbed her rifle again.

“Get the AR-15,” Melanie said, gesturing to the gun on the ground. “We’re not out of this yet. We have to find Mark and Shona and escape the camp.”

Lizzy furiously rubbed at her eyes and cheeks with the back of her hands, sniffed loudly, and nodded. “Of course. I was all wound up from the fighting. I guess I just lost it.”

“It’s understandable,” Melanie said. “He was my father, too.”

As Lizzy stooped down to grab her rifle from the ground beside Sue Ellen, Melanie approached Nathan. The boy was still pressed up against the tree, and he seemed on the verge of hyperventilating. His hands were behind his back, bound together by handcuffs.

“Nathan, do you have any idea where the key is for those handcuffs?” Melanie asked.

“In her vest pocket,” he replied. “I saw her put it there. The right one. Her right.”

Melanie went to Sue Ellen. She could smell the blood and gunpowder lingering around her. Melanie didn’t bother examining the wounds. She’d seen enough. Instead, she fished into her vest pocket until she found a small key ring. She pulled it out, isolated the small handcuff key, and brought it back to Nathan.

As soon as she unlocked and removed the cuffs, he brought his hands up and began massaging his wrists.

“I’m sorry we had to…do what we did,” Melanie said, laying a hand on his back. “You shouldn’t have been here for that. Are you okay?”

“She would have shot me,” he said softly. “She would have done it.”

“I don’t know,” Melanie said. “I don’t think so. Either way, she would have killed the rest of us. Come on. Let’s get you out of here. We’re still surrounded by the remaining militiamen.”

Nathan pushed away from the tree, rubbed his face as if it hurt, then rose with a long, pained groan. He turned toward Melanie, but he wouldn’t look at her. Indeed, his gaze was stuck to the ground right in front of him. Melanie grabbed his shoulders. She would have given him a hug then, but she didn’t know if he would receive it. He wasn’t crying, but he looked deeply disturbed. She didn’t blame him.

“She definitely would have shot me, ma’am,” he said. “I kept telling her I wouldn’t go with her no matter what, and she got madder and madder. She hit me hard, more than once, and threatened me. Why would she want me back so badly, why would she chase after you guys so hard, and do all of this stuff to grab me, only to turn around and kill me when I made her mad.”

“Don’t try to make sense of it,” Melanie replied. “I don’t know how your mother felt about you, but she clearly didn’t like not getting her way. Again, I’m sorry it came to this. You’ve…” She realized there just wasn’t anything she could say to make the kid feel better, so she trailed off.

Finally, she decided to go for it. She pulled Nathan forward and gave him a brief hug. To her surprise, he returned it, hugging her back with a full, needy embrace. Lizzy was standing to one side, shuffling her feet and looking awkward. No, not awkward. Guilty. Possibly a bit horrified. Indeed, she had now killed both of this kid’s parents. First Derrick, now Sue Ellen. Even if Nathan wasn’t mad at her about this, it was clearly weighing heavily on her.

“Okay, we’re going to get out of here now,” Melanie said, pulling away from Nathan. The poor kid seemed somewhat reluctant to let go. “We have to make sure Shona and Mark are safe. She’s going to be really happy to see you’re okay.”

At this, Nathan brightened a little. “Should…should I have a gun, too? Just in case we have to fight our way out? Mom took my guns.”

Lizzy drew her Glock from its holster and handed it to him. “Here you go.” As he took hold of it, there seemed to be come kind of strange absolution in it. Offer given, offer received.

“Thanks,” Nathan said.

Nothing else needed to be said. Melanie beckoned them both and turned, heading back the way they’d come. She could see the narrow path carved through the underbrush, leading from the clearing back to the central camp. As she started in that direction, she strained to see into the surrounding forest, looking for movement.

Lizzy moved just behind her left shoulder, aiming slightly off to that side. Nathan came up behind her right shoulder. He seemed to have shrugged off the horror and moved now with quiet purpose, almost calm. Melanie was impressed with his strength, his ability to push through the worst circumstances, the most personal tragedies, and continue to do what needed to be done.

She followed the curve of the path back through the forest, straining to hear what was ahead of her. Unfortunately, all of the shooting had made her ears ring. Still, she was aware of noises. People moving, perhaps. Hushed voices. The clank of rifles.

Mark and Shona, perhaps? She almost called their names, but she didn’t want to give away her position. However, she lifted a hand and signaled for Shona and Mark to be careful. As they rounded the bend, she saw the crushed supplies through a gap ahead, the massive tree trunk driving them all the way to the ground by its own sheer weight. In the morning light, she could see just how much damage had been done to the militia supplies, crates of ammo, food, guns, and tools, all crushed and scattered.

The smoke had dissipated, so she saw well beyond the supplies. No one in that direction. The forest seemed to have cleared out. Indeed, as she drew closer, she could see the high branches of the oak tree, and there was no sign of Rita. Still, she heard noises in front of her. People. Tense voices. She raised the SKS and stared down the sights as she reached the end of the path. Behind her, Lizzy was breathing fast, the AR-15 making a soft, almost rhythmic sound in her hands.

And then Melanie stepped out into the open at the back of the central camp, the fallen branch lying at an angle right in front of her. People were standing in two groups, one on the right side of the camp, the other on the left. They had been hidden behind trees on the narrow path, but she saw them clearly now.

Seven or eight men standing close together on her left, each with a rifle pointed across the camp, and all dressed from head to toe in black: hat, tactical vest, shirt, pants, boots. Mark, Shona, and Rita stood together on the right, and they, too, had rifles in their hands, which they’d trained on the militiamen.

A standoff. All were tense, some shaking, making those soft sounds that Melanie had heard. She almost fired. Initially, only the sheer exhaustion of her confrontation with Sue Ellen stayed her hand. Then the precariousness of the situation sank in. Mark, Shona, and Rita were out in the open, with no cover. Even if Melanie opened fire, if all of them opened fire, there was a very good chance that at least one of the militiamen would get off a good shot in return. It was a risk she couldn’t take, so she held up her hand to stop Lizzy and Nathan in their tracks.

Rita spotted Melanie first, glancing to her left, and gasped. That caused the militiamen to notice her as well, and a couple of them—hard men with hard faces and long beards—shifted their guns toward her.

“Sorry, boss,” Rita said. “I came out of the tree too soon, I guess, but I heard Shona back there and went to help. Then these guys showed up.” She nodded her head in the direction of the militiamen and gave them a look of utter disgust, flaring nostrils and baring her teeth.

“There’s no reason for anyone else to get shot,” Melanie said, lowering her rifle.

One of the militiamen was bigger than the others, with a prodigious gut and a huge red beard. He gave her a narrow-eyed look of suspicion. She thought she remembered that his name was Aaron.

“We still outnumber you,” he said. “If one of you opens fire, we’ll shoot right back, and I’m pretty sure you got fewer dominos than us to knock down. Catch my drift, girly?”

“Sue Ellen is dead,” Melanie said. She made sure the words rang out loud and strong, so any who might be standing out of sight nearby would hear them. “Your leader is dead, Aaron.”

“I don’t believe it,” Aaron replied, but his eyes widened ever-so-slightly, and some of his men glanced at him with anxious faces.

“Well, her son is right here beside me,” Melanie said, stepping to one side so they could see Nathan clearly. “He’ll confirm it for you.”

“It’s true,” Nathan replied. “She put a gun to my head, but they shot her first. Hit her in the face. I saw her dead body. She’s gone.” He said it coldly.

“Nathan, are you alright?” Shona asked. She started to move, as if she intended to run toward him, but Mark thrust an arm in her way.

Before Nathan could answer, Aaron bellowed, “You two witches killed Sue Ellen Platt. You killed the leader of the Wolverines. My God, I can’t believe it.”

“I’ll let the rest of you go if you lower your weapons and leave now,” Melanie said. “Sue Ellen provoked this fight and kept it going. Now she’s gone. You can return home and live your lives in peace.”

More of Aaron’s men glanced at him, and Melanie could see the anxiousness, the desperation in their eyes. Clearly, the death of Sue Ellen had hit them hard, but Aaron merely scowled. He needed a little more convincing. Melanie was tempted to just end him. Maybe the others would accept the deal if Aaron was out of the way. But that seemed too risky.

“The factory is yours, if you want it,” Melanie said. “Whatever’s left of it. Go back, take the supplies, and live in safety along with the rest of your people. Do you really want to keep risking your lives over a fight that really didn’t mean that much to you guys in the first place?”

At this, Aaron’s scowl faded, and he lowered his gaze. Finally, he took one hand off his rifle and stroked his thick, red beard. “All of this chasing through the woods for what? What was it all about? She got us worked up over this nonsense, and meanwhile that whole factory full of food, medicine, and weapons is sitting empty. Heck, some scabby old road scavengers might have taken the place by now.”

“It’s yours,” Melanie said. “Go claim it and live in peace. Enjoy the spoils of war. No one else has to get hurt.”

Aaron nodded and slowly lowered his rifle. As he did, some of his followers did as well. Melanie nodded at Lizzy and Nathan, and they both followed suit. Then Mark and Shona lowered their guns, and the final militiamen did as well. Rita was the lone holdout for about three more seconds, a twisted smile on her face. Clearly, this was not her preferred course of action, but finally, she shrugged—a gesture that clearly meant Whatever you want, boss—and lowered hers as well.

“I don’t want no part of this fight,” one of the militiamen said. He was tall and thin, with a scraggly brown beard and bad acne. He looked young, far too young to be part of this madness. “It never seemed like a good idea in the first place. Man, we got all of those Army vehicles from the armory. We could have gone anywhere and done anything, but Colonel Platt had us chasing her kid through the Smoky Mountains like a bunch of rubes.”

“It was a waste of time, bullets, and lives,” said another. This man was short, squat, with a round face and a patchy beard that mostly covered his neck. “Someone should’ve called her on it, but no one ever called her on nothing. That stupid chain of command garbage. Now look at us!”

“We never should’ve left home,” the tall man added. “We were going to fight bandits and pirates and gangs. Remember? We were going to set up a fortress and create a safe zone from criminals, but the colonel got a bunch of us killed over her kid that didn’t even want to be with her. Those were our friends, and what did they die for? For some teenage boy that didn’t want to come home? My gosh, guys. It’s crazy!”

“Okay, okay,” Aaron said. “I get it. I get it. She was the boss. Who were we to question her? But if she’s gone…” He shrugged. “I guess we gotta make our own decisions now.” He tipped his hat at Melanie and slowly backed away. “Okay, lady, you’ve got a deal, then. No more fighting. We’re leaving here quietly, and you won’t see hide nor hair of us ever again.”

“Same goes for us,” Melanie replied.

“You ain’t gonna…you know, shoot us in the back?” he said.

Melanie shook her head. “Absolutely not. We have only ever defended ourselves, as I recall. None of my people will point a weapon at you again. I promise.”

That seemed to be good enough for him. Aaron sighed, turned, and strode away. His men turned and followed, each moving at a slightly different speed. A few of them even dropped their weapons as they went, leaving them discarded on the ground. It seemed like a final sign of their broken order and unity. They soon disappeared, heading in the general direction of the other camp. Melanie listened to their fading footfalls for a moment before she finally shouldered her rifle and moved forward.

Shona pushed past her father, dumped her rifle on the ground, and came running toward them. Melanie knew the excitement wasn’t for her. It didn’t hurt her feelings. Nathan moved past her and met Shona near the broken end of the big branch. They embraced, a hug so fierce it almost looked painful. Finally, Shona drew back and turned to Melanie.

“Thanks for going after him, Mom,” she said. “Thanks for bringing him home to his real family!”

“My real family,” Nathan echoed, as if he enjoyed the sound of it.

34

“Why should we waste a moment of time showing any respect for a woman who tried to murder us all?” Rita said, her hands firmly planted on her hips. “Would she have done the same for any of us?”

They were standing at the edge of the clearing. Sue Ellen’s body was still sprawled on the ground in the afternoon light. A large pool of blood had formed around her head and shoulders, but it was all turning black now. Her arms were spread wide, her head tipped back with her mouth open. Fortunately, Nathan and Shona were at the back of the group where they couldn’t see it.

“Personally, I don’t really want to touch the body,” Lizzy said, her hands pressed against her stomach. “It’s all making me a little queasy at this point. Couldn’t we just leave now? The wild animals will clean up the mess for us.”

Dusty had finally appeared. The dog had run off into the forest at some point during the rescue, spooked by the fighting. Only when the militiamen were long gone did she finally come loping out of hiding again, tail wagging, to find her humans. Now, she was standing beside Shona and Nathan, panting. She would not leave their side, and she seemed scared to approach the clearing.

“It seems to me the decision should be up to the boy,” Mark said. “If it means something to him, then we owe it to him to bury Sue Ellen properly, whether or not it’s unpleasant.”

Shona and Nathan had been quietly talking to each other, but he cleared his throat now and spoke up. “It doesn’t matter to me at all. Burying someone doesn’t make them more or less dead, and I don’t want to look at her again. I don’t want to look at any of them.”

Melanie sighed and stepped into the clearing.

I guess I have to be a pain in the butt one more time, she thought.

“You still want to do it, Mel, don’t you?” Lizzy said. “You still want to bury her? Why are you fixated on this?”

“We’ll at least make a cairn of rocks to cover the body,” Melanie replied. She turned to face the others and saw nothing but unhappy faces.

Nathan wasn’t looking in her direction, but he added, “She lost the right to be called my mother, and she wasn’t much of a parent to begin with. I don’t care.” He said this last with particular sharpness. “I have my family now.”

“See, there you go,” Rita said. She still had a few bits of bark caught in her spiky black hair from climbing the oak tree. “It’s official. She’s buzzard food. You heard the kid.”

But Melanie shook her head. “We’re not burying her for Nathan’s sake, and we’re not doing it as a sign of respect for the woman who murdered the only real father I ever had.” At this, she felt a sudden hitch in her throat, a stinging in her eyes, but she pushed through it. “We’re going to build a cairn over her body as a way to put this all behind us. To bury all of this madness and leave it here.”

She couldn’t tell from their expressions if they got it. They just stared at her. She turned and headed across the clearing. Mark came after her first, moving up beside her and taking her hand. He nodded and smiled at her.

“I trust your judgment,” he said softly. “If you think this is important for us, then you can count me in.”

“Thanks,” she replied.

At that, Lizzy sighed and rushed toward them. “Okay, okay, I get it. Bury the past. It’s like some weird form of art therapy or something.”

The three of them approached the body. Shona and Nathan didn’t join in, and Melanie thought it was for the best. Rita lingered at the edge of the clearing as well, scowling at no one in particular. It seemed like she would refuse to participate, but after a few seconds, she blew her breath out loudly and came toward them.

“Heck, it’s not the weirdest thing the boss has asked us to do,” she said. “Let’s get this cairn built, so we can get out of here.”

Melanie nodded at her. “Thanks, Rita.”

They went to work then, rounding up stones and bringing them back. Slowly, they stacked up the stones one by one over the body. The forest here wasn’t the best place for building a cairn. Suitable rocks were somewhat rare, and they had to hunt about to find enough of them. Eventually, after maybe an hour, Shona and Nathan joined in. They said nothing, offered no explanation, just went to work helping the others. Only Dusty refused to enter the clearing to the bitter end.

Once they’d built a large pile of stones that completely encased the body, they stood around it, staring down in awkward silence. Nathan had his arms crossed, head bowed, as he scowled darkly. Still, he seemed like he had something on his mind.

Melanie cleared her throat and said, “Nathan, do you want to say anything?”

He shrugged. “She could have been a better person, if she’d wanted to be. If she’d been willing to try. Instead, she turned to her worst tendencies when the EMP hit. I don’t know what to say. It’s a shame, really. Pretty much the same path as my dad. We never really had a family, not really, but I think I’ve got one now. You guys are my family.” He sighed. “That’s all I have to say, I guess.”

And with that, he stepped back from the cairn. Shona put her arms around him, and the rest of the group turned away from the crude burial place. It was time to go. Time to find a place to call their own.

EPILOGUE

As best she could tell, it had been an old hunter’s cabin, and while it clearly hadn’t been used in a long time, the structure was fully intact. Furthermore, enough space had been cleared around it that the trees hadn’t yet managed to encroach and devour it with root and branch. Most remarkable of all was the view, as the cabin was set on a broad, rocky shelf overlooking a vast tree-filled valley. A stream carved a silver path through the valley, water glinting here and there in the gaps.

Melanie always took a few minutes in the morning to sit on the porch and drink it in. She preferred the padded leather chair in the corner beneath the overhanging roof. It had become a comfortable and familiar place. On this particular morning, she had a cup of herbal tea steaming on the handrail nearby. Wisps of fogs lingered in the valley, even as the sun rose above the mountaintops to the east.

“I never get tired of it,” Mark said, stepping out of the back door onto the porch. He was dressed lightly in a short-sleeve shirt made from an old bedsheet and his favorite patched sweatpants. As he approached the handrail, he raised his own enamelware mug of tea and sipped at it. “This view just doesn’t get old, does it?”

“No, it does not,” Melanie replied.

“We could slap it on a poster and sell it,” he said. “We’d make millions.”

“That would require a functioning economy, dear,” Melanie reminded him.

The view was especially lovely at this time of year. Early summer had turned the leaves of the forest dark green, and a generous rainfall in late spring had ensured that the forest was lush and thriving.

“I would sit here all day, if I could,” Melanie said, “but I suppose we should get to work.”

“I suppose we should,” Mark replied. He sighed and took a long drink of tea. “What are you working on today?”

Melanie sipped her tea and rose. “Finishing the shed with Rita. Judging by the sound, she’s already hard at work.” Indeed, as Melanie headed across the porch, she heard the clatter of boards, the tapping of a hammer. “What about you?”

“Oh, I should probably help Lizzy with her gathering this morning,” he replied. “She mentioned that she could use another hand. We’ve got a lot of wild strawberries and red mulberries down in the valley.”

“Okay,” Melanie said, giving him a brief hug in passing. “Take a rifle with you. You might do a little hunting while you’re at it.”

“I’ll take the Remington,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “A deer would be nice.”

“Venison is always nice,” she said.

Melanie finished her tea in two more sips and brought the cup back inside. The cabin had one big room that served as a living room, kitchen, and dining room. They’d been able to clean up and repair the wood stove, the table and chairs, and a small couch. A short hallway to the right led to the bedrooms, but Melanie kept going. She set the teacup in the sink and headed through the front door.

The front of the property had a gravel driveway and a workspace where they’d built a crude frame and covered it with a tarp. Shona and Nathan were walking across the driveway, each of them lugging a large bucket, as Dusty followed along behind, sniffing the ground.

“Mom, look at how many we got,” Shona said, holding up her bucket. It was filled to the brim with acorns. A few fell out as she walked. Dusty padded over to an acorn and sniffed at it.

“Don’t let Dusty eat them,” Melanie said. “Acorns are bad for dogs, especially raw acorns.”

Shona turned back and wagged a finger at the dog. Dusty seemed to understand and left the acorn where it lay.

“She’s a good dog,” Shona said. “She usually doesn’t eat anything unless we give it to her.”

“What do you plan on doing with all of those acorns?” Melanie asked.

Nathan pointed toward a tree at the edge of the gravel driveway. A strange contraption hung from a sturdy branch. It looked like a simple framework with wire mesh from a window stretched across it.

“That’s a drying rack,” he said. “That’s what I was making yesterday. We’ll dry the acorns in the sun. Then we can crack them out of their shell, mash them into small pieces, and soak them in water. That removes the tannic acid, which will enable us to safely eat them.”

“Well, you seem to know what you’re doing,” Melanie said. As she crossed paths with them, she clapped them each on the back in turn. “I’ll leave you to it.”

The family was still learning to live off the land, even after months in the cabin. Thus far, they had avoided eating acorns mostly because they’d had other food sources, but Nathan was determined to make use of everything edible in the vicinity of the cabin. And acorns were very plentiful. Melanie wasn’t entirely thrilled at the prospect of eating them. She still couldn’t stop thinking of acorns as little more than squirrel food.

“Once you leach out the tannic acid and roast them real good, they’re tasty,” Nathan said, as if he’d read her mind. “And, hey, acorn mush was a staple food of a lot of different Native American tribes. They used to plant orchards of oak trees just so they could harvest the acorns.”

“Well, I guess people should have learned more from the native tribes before the EMP hit,” Melanie said. “We’d all be better prepared to live off the land. Then again, nobody thought civilization would come to an end. We always assumed we’d have electrical appliances and processed food—like the snack cakes at Beaton’s.”

Shona and Nathan took up positions on either side of the drying rack, setting the buckets down at their feet. As they began to work, they chatted quietly. Melanie kept going toward the covered workspace, where Rita was hard at work nailing some boards to a crossbeam. She looked up at Melanie’s approach and dabbed her forehead with her sleeve.

“Hey there, boss, ready to get this shed built?” she said. “If we set a good pace, I’ll bet we can get it done by dinner. What do you think?”

The plan was to replace the crude tarp-covered workspace with an actual shed. It had taken a long time to gather the materials. Melanie hadn’t wanted to salvage wood from the cabin, so they’d chopped down trees—mostly oak, maple, and ash—and made their own boards. Sawing them into lumber by hand with a handsaw had proved exhausting and time-consuming. Drying and treating the lumber had also proved tricky.

Still, after months of hard work, they now had a good pile of suitable lumber for building their shed, and they’d already laid down a foundation of rocks and gravel. It looked like Rita was in the process of building one of the walls.

“Shouldn’t we put the framework up first?” Melanie asked, buckling on a handmade leather toolbelt and retrieving a hammer from the toolbox.

“I think we’ll build the walls first, set them aside, install the frame, then raise the walls,” Rita said, grabbing a nail out of her pocket. Her one-piece work uniform had seen better days. She’d patched it many times, but the ends of the sleeves were threadbare. Still, Rita wasn’t ready to let it go. “Are you okay with that plan, boss?”

“That’s fine with me,” Melanie replied.

“Okay, then,” Rita said. “Grab a board there and get to work.” She pointed at the lumber pile. “Make sure to consult the blueprint. Don’t wing it.” The blueprint was a crude sketch on a piece of scrap paper that Rita had tacked to the edge of the worktable.

“You might have to translate your handwriting for me,” Melanie said. “Otherwise, I think I understand the basic idea of the diagram.”

She grabbed some nails and put them in a pocket of her toolbelt. Then she went to the lumber pile. As she did, she heard footsteps on gravel near the front door of the cabin. She turned and saw Lizzy approaching. She had a cloth bag slung over her shoulder.

“Who’s in the mood for fresh strawberries?” she called.

“Always,” Shona replied from the drying rack, where she was carefully spreading out a layer of acorns on the metal mesh.

“Don’t skimp on the mulberries,” Rita said, setting another nail and preparing to drive it home. “They don’t taste as good as the strawberries, but we can make a really good wine out of them.”

“Okay, I’ll make sure to get you plenty of mulberries,” Lizzy said, “but you’ve got to work on your wine recipe or something. That last stuff was like jailhouse whiskey. Barely drinkable.”

“Hey, I’m working on it,” Rita replied. “Every batch is better than the one before.”

Lizzy merely shrugged at this, smiled, and turned to leave. Melanie noted that she had the SKS rifle slung over her shoulder. The folding stock was unmistakable. “Then again, if I spot a deer, I’m forgoing the berries altogether and bringing back meat. We need more protein.”

“We need protein and fresh fruits and vegetables,” Nathan said, helping Shona smooth the layer of acorns. “A balanced diet. That’s why people keep having digestive problems.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see how it goes.” Lizzy tipped Melanie a salute and turned to leave.

“Be careful out there,” Melanie replied.

“Always.”

Lizzy set off. As she did, Mark appeared from the cabin, lugging a large sack over one shoulder, the Remington 700 over the other. He blew a kiss to Melanie, gave Shona and Nathan a thumbs-up, then followed Lizzy. They walked down the gravel driveway, then cut to one side and headed down a well-worn path that wound down a slope into the valley. It was their primary way of getting down into the forest, and they’d made many modifications over the months to make the descent safer.

Once they were out of sight, Melanie went to the lumber pile and grabbed a board. Since the boards had been handmade, they weren’t perfect. Slightly misshapen, of different sizes and thicknesses. Still, Rita had enough skill to make it all work. Of that, Melanie had no doubt.

“Once we get this shed finished and stocked with supplies, we can kick back and take it easy for a few days,” Rita said.

“Yeah, but not too easy,” Melanie replied, setting the board against the crossbeam. “There’s always work to be done.”

Rita raised the hammer, but paused and looked at Melanie. She waited until Melanie made eye contact, then grinned broadly and said, “Hey, boss, you know everything’s gonna be okay, don’t you? I mean, you’ve accepted that by now, haven’t you? We’re fine. All is well here.”

Melanie considered her questions. She still felt a burden of responsibility for her family. It weighed on her constantly. Nevertheless, things were different now. Even though the factory was long behind them, they’d found this place in the woods, and it worked. They had food, water, and shelter. They also had privacy, and enough guns and ammo to last for years.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve accepted it,” she replied. “We’re going to be okay.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.” Rita nodded in her direction and pointed at the hammer in her belt. “Now, get to work, boss. We’ve got a shed to build.”

END OF BREAKING CHAOS

EMP DISASTER BOOK THREE

PS: Do you love EMP fiction? Then keep reading for exclusive extracts from Escaping Anarchy, and Crumbling World.

THANK YOU

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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?"

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BLURB

They’re trapped inside a prison when the power goes out…

Molly is determined to get the troubled teens she teaches back on the right path and is convinced a trip to a local prison will show them the consequences of bad behavior. But when an EMP blast knocks out all power across the country, Molly and her five students, along with their former-Marine bus driver, Colton, are locked in with the prisoners with no safe exit.

The guards are little help against clever convicts, and when a riot throws everything into chaos, Molly and Colton must find a way to get to freedom with their charges, even if it means trusting a prisoner who is using them for his own gains.

Prisoners aren’t the only danger in the suddenly powerless world. Escaping the prison may be more dangerous than staying inside as it becomes clear to everyone that the power isn’t coming back, and society is about to crumble.

Get your copy of Escaping Anarchy

Available February 9, 2022

(Available for pre-order now)

www.GraceHamiltonBooks.com

* * *

EXCERPT

Chapter One

MOLLY

Molly O’Neil swept a flyaway strand of strawberry-blonde hair from her face and stifled a yawn. She’d been up since before sunrise and was already flagging. Behind her, the busload of school kids she was in charge of for the day was becoming restless, but she couldn’t bring herself to confront them. Not yet.

“How much longer?” She bent forward and put her hand on the back of the bus driver’s seat.

Colton shrugged his thick shoulders at her and pointed to the ugly red line on the satnav that indicated heavy traffic. “Who knows?” he replied, drumming his large fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. “Could be an hour or more.”

Molly looked at her watch and sighed. It was unseasonably warm, and the musty smell of the school bus was making her feel a little car sick. Taking a long sip from the flask of lukewarm coffee she was holding, she wondered—not for the first time that day—why she, as an English teacher, had been roped into this.

The school’s annual “Scared Straight” trip was usually handled by their brash and bulky gym teacher, Mr. Jones. However, this year, the principal had wanted to switch things up. She’d volunteered, not actually expecting to be picked. Now here she was, stuck on the highway on the way to Fairfield Prison with five disgruntled teenagers. The only saving grace was that they weren’t all bad kids.

“You’d better give them a call,” Colton said loudly, breaking her concentration. “We’re gonna be late.”

Putting down her coffee, Molly bit back a sigh, then started to scroll through her phone; she knew she had the number somewhere. Probably hidden in her emails along with the permission forms and risk assessment she’d had to organize.

She found it, and was about to dial the number, when she stopped and strained her ears. Through the dull chatter toward the back of the bus, she could hear the unmistakable flick of a lighter. She bit her lower lip. What if she pretended she hadn’t heard it? What if she just hunkered down at the front of the bus, stared out of the window at the slow-moving landscape, and imagined the scrawny trees at the side of the highway were actually a vast and glorious forest that she could escape to? A place where she could hide herself away and not have to deal with any of this anymore.

Flick. Flick. Flick.

Molly placed her palm on the armrest and steadied herself as she stood up. Slipping her phone into her jeans pocket, she cast her eyes over each seat in turn until she came to the obvious culprit: Lucky.

“Hand it over.”

Lucky had been so busy staring at his phone that he didn’t notice Molly standing over him until she spoke. “The phone?” he said, slipping his phone-free hand down into the space between his hip and the side of the bus.

“The lighter.” Molly held out her hand and wriggled her fingers. “Now, please, Lucky.”

For a moment, she thought that Lucky might protest. But he was only fourteen, younger than the others, and essentially a decent kid. So, after looking around to see whether the others were watching, he did as he was told. “I wasn’t going to do anything,” he said. “And I don’t think you’ve got a right to take my personal property from me.”

Trying not to smile at the fake bravado, Molly folded her arms. “Well, you haven’t exactly got a good track record, have you?” she said, even though she knew that she shouldn’t really be getting into it with him.

Rolling his eyes, Lucky leaned a gangly arm on the rim of the window and waved his hand at her. “It was an accident,” he said. “How come no one believes me?”

From the back of the bus, Jenna, who had been in more fist fights than Molly cared to count, shouted, “Because you’re a pyro freak, that’s why!”

Ignoring her, Molly put the lighter into her pocket and said, “Whether it was an accident or not, you set fire to your uncle’s barn. You’re on this trip for a reason. Plus, you and I both know that if you’re caught in possession of a lighter, you’ll be in a whole world of trouble—especially if you’re caught trying to take a lighter into a prison. So, consider me confiscating this a little taste of what it’s like in jail. No luxuries. No control. Someone else deciding what you can and can’t do—”

“All right,” Lucky whined. “Can we wait till we get there before starting the lectures?”

Molly opened her mouth to reply but thought better of it; she’d been teaching long enough to know that the worst possible thing you could do was allow yourself to be sucked into an argument. Especially if you were trapped in an airless bus on the longest school trip in history.

“If you want it back, you can collect it from the principal’s office at the end of the day.” Ignoring Lucky’s grumbles, she continued her walk down the bus; now that she was up, she might as well check on the others.

At the back, the Banks twins, Erik and Scarlett, were leaning into the aisle and bickering with Jenna. Seriously? Molly muttered, There’s only five of them—how can they be this much hard work?

“Right,” she said, positioning herself between the twins and Jenna. “What’s going on with you three?”

“Nothing,” Scarlett replied, narrowing her eyes at Jenna, and sinking back into her seat to look at her phone.

“Yeah,” Erik agreed. “Nothing.”

Molly looked from Jenna to the twins, then shook her head. “Okay, well, keep it down. Mr. King is trying to concentrate up there.” She had turned and started to head back to her seat, when she unmistakably heard Erik mutter loudly to his sister, “No wonder she gets in so many fights—she’s got arms like a freakin’ dude.”

Scarlett sniggered loudly. There was a millisecond of silence before Jenna yelled, “Yeah, so what if I have!”

Molly spun around, waving her hands calmly in front of her, ready to de-escalate the situation, but Jenna had clearly had enough of Erik’s jibes and, ignoring Molly completely, she lunged for him. Erik had already started to scrabble backwards, almost right into his sister’s lap, but Molly dashed forward and positioned herself in front of him. Placing her hands on Jenna’s shoulders, she met her eyes. Jenna was breathing quickly, her eyes were wide and furious, and her cheeks were flushed.

“It’s not worth it,” Molly said, willing Jenna to listen to her. “Really, it’s not.”

Jenna was trembling, but she’d been in too many fights. One more, and she’d be kicked out of school and sent straight to Juvie.

“Jenna—it’s not worth it,” Molly repeated. Slowly, she saw Jenna’s shoulders drop. “Good. Right. Now why don’t you go sit up front?”

Jenna nodded. Molly let out a long slow breath as she watched her release her clenched fists, pick up her backpack and move several seats away from Scarlett and Erik. Jenna could easily have taken Erik; he was mouthy when he was with his sister, but he was skinny too, and had never so much as thrown a punch as far as Molly knew. Thank God she’d managed to calm Jenna down and hadn’t had to return the kids to their parents with black eyes and bloodied noses. Although, at least if she had, it might have assured she was never selected to chaperone a trip like this again in the future.

Sitting down opposite the twins, in the seat Jenna had just vacated, Molly leaned forward and put her hands on her knees. “Come on, you two. You need to behave and not instigate anything. Out of everyone, I thought the two of you were the ones who probably didn’t deserve to be here. Maybe I was wrong.”

Scarlett wasn’t looking at her; she was buried in her phone. But Erik looked sheepish and almost apologetic as he said, “Yeah. Whatever.”

“Well, not ‘whatever’, Erik—”

Ahead, Colton swore under his breath and it caused Molly to look up. Standing up and stepping away from the twins, she saw that he was shaking his head and gesticulating at something out of the window.

“What the hell is this?” he said loudly.

Molly dipped her head and narrowed her eyes. Ahead, a couple of yards away, the road sign which had—a few seconds ago—announced a detour due to a traffic accident, was flickering. It continued to flicker. The orange lights flashed on and off and on again. Then they disappeared completely. Molly frowned.

At the front of the bus, Lucky let out a clap of laughter. Jenna was sniggering too.

“What the...” Colton turned to look at Molly and she felt her cheeks begin to flush, because the sign now read: SHEEPLE MAKE GOOD VENISON. It was accompanied by a crude drawing of what she could only assume was supposed to depict cannibalism. And Molly knew exactly who was responsible.

“Scarlett....” She whirled around and snatched the girl’s phone from her hands.

“Hey!” Scarlett and Erik yelled at the same time.

Molly didn’t give in. She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “You’re on this trip because of exactly this kind of behavior.”

Scarlett opened her mouth to speak but Molly interrupted her.

“And don’t even bother trying to tell me it wasn’t you. Change it back.” She handed Scarlett her phone. “Now.”

Get your copy of Escaping Anarchy

Available February 9, 2022

(Available for pre-order now)

www.GraceHamiltonBooks.com

BLURB

Family comes first—and he’ll do whatever it takes to protect his from the looming storm.

Even before becoming a husband and father, safety had been Shane McDonald’s priority for most of his forty-five years. As a nuclear engineer, it’s his responsibility to keep the Sequoyah Nuclear Plant functioning at optimum levels to avoid what protesters fear most—a meltdown.

But when a coronal mass ejection from the sun wipes out power across the globe, stopping a nuclear chain reaction is no longer his primary concern.

Now Shane must trek across hundreds of miles to ensure the safety of his loved ones in a world rapidly disintegrating into lawlessness. Yet with few functioning automobiles and a blind teenage daughter to protect, it’ll require careful planning to reach his prepper mother-in-law’s and reunite with his family.

His wife has her hands full as well. When her brother’s chemo drip suddenly stops working and her son gets stuck in the hospital elevator, all Jodi McDonald wants is the security of her husband’s steady presence. But with a weakened brother and inexperienced son to look after, Jodi must remain strong amid the chaos and help guide them to her mother’s.

However, even the best laid plans go awry as the miles stretch out between them. Supply thefts run rampant. Those who have necessities prey on those who don’t. Minds broken by hardship kill on sight.

But the fatal mistake comes when thugs threaten the McDonald’s little girl.

Shane must find the strength to do the unthinkable—or watch his family suffer the consequences.

Grab your copy of Crumbling World (Surviving the End Book One) from
www.GraceHamiltonBooks.com

* * *

EXCERPT

Chapter One

Violet must have sensed the furious crowd gathered in front of the gate. In the rearview mirror, Shane saw her sit up straighter and cock her head to one side. Ruby, her black lab guide dog, responded to the sudden change in her body language and looked at her with concern. Roughly two dozen people had gathered in a grassy area alongside the entry road to the Sequoyah Nuclear Plant, some of them carrying neatly stenciled signs as they marched back and forth. On the other side of the road two police officers stood watching in front of their patrol car.

“Dad, what’s going on?” Violet said. “I can hear a crowd of people. It sounds like they’re chanting.”

He hadn’t intended to tell her about the protestors. He had been hoping to avoid having to explain to his daughter why people were protesting his place of work on Take Your Child to Work Day. She was fourteen, but she was also somewhat naïve. Shane had perhaps sheltered her too much as a child, waiting to protect her from danger, from bullies, from so many possible problems, particularly because of her disability. This had only recently become difficult, as she began to push back, growing into a questioning teen who would no longer accept easy answers.

“Just some people,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

As the car drew up alongside the protestors, the words of their chant became clear.

“Shut it down! Shut it down! Shut it down!”

Ruby had been sprawled across the back seat, but she rose now and placed her head on Violet’s lap. Some would have mistaken this for a gesture of affection. Shane recognized it as a protective move.

“Why are they saying that?” Violet asked, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. “Is something wrong? They sound angry.”

Trying to ignore the hateful stares of the protestors, Shane slowed as he approached the guard station next to the front gate. He fumbled in his shirt pocket for his work ID, trying to think of the best way to explain the situation to his daughter. Violet tended to think the best of people, and he didn’t want her to lose that optimism.

“They’re just exercising their first amendment rights,” he said. “Freedom of speech is a beautiful thing, even if the things being said are questionable.”

“So they’re protesting the power plant?” she asked.

“Well…yes,” he replied, hoping she would leave it at that.

“That happens a lot here, huh?” she said. “A lot of people protest?”

“No, only occasionally. Generally, when we make the news for some reason or another.”

“Why are they so mad this time? Did your company do something wrong?”

“They’re upset because of the talk about adding a third reactor to the plant. Our service area is growing, and we could use another reactor, but as soon as it hit the news, people in the community started complaining. I imagine they organized some kind of protest gathering on social media, and here they are. It’s fine. People are entitled to voice their concerns.” He flashed his ID to the guard, who gave him an anxious smile and waved him through the open gate. The parking lot beyond was emptier than usual. At two minutes to four in the afternoon, they were smack-dab in the middle of a shift change. Had the protestors planned it that way, hoping to catch the bulk of the second shift workers as they pulled into the gate? It seemed likely. “If you ask me, they’re being rather alarmist. People like this, I don’t think they get it.”

“They don’t get what, Dad?” Violet asked.

He carefully considered his words before answering. Would his daughter think less of him if she understood the controversial nature of his chosen industry? “Well, Violet, sweetheart, nuclear energy is the cleanest and safest form of energy in the world—hands down, no question—but the word nuclear makes some people nervous. They assume radiation is seeping into the environment and creating three-eyed fish in the river.”

Violet laughed at that. “Is it?”

“No, of course not. The radiation is fully contained.”

Ahead, the vast gray cooling towers rose on either side of a domed containment building, billowing steam into a crisp late-April sky. Shane could see the curve of the Tennessee River where it slipped behind the plant in a broad arc. It was a sight that never failed to impress him, even after these many years, and he wished his daughter could enjoy it. As he pulled into the closest row of parking spaces, he considered ways he might convey the majesty of this place to her.

“Dad,” she said, “we talked about nuclear power in our science class at school. Our teacher said nuclear power plants are dangerous because if they overheat, they can go into a meltdown. She said meltdowns have happened before, and they hurt a lot of people, even poisoned whole cities. Is that true? Could it happen here?”

“It’s true. But did your teacher mention that more people die in coal mines every year than have ever died from nuclear meltdowns?” Shane said.

Violet persisted. “But a meltdown could happen here?”

Shane grunted unhappily. “That would require a very severe accident.”

“But they’ve happened before,” Violet said. “At Chernobyl in the Ukraine, and somewhere in Japan. One even happened in America, she said, at a place called Three Mile Island.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Something like that is not going to happen here. The Chernobyl accident was mostly caused by the poor design of RBMK nuclear power reactors. We don’t have that problem here. And Fukushima in Japan was caused by a tsunami, which probably isn’t going to happen in the mountains of Tennessee. We’re safe.”

“But how do you know for sure?” Violet asked.

“Because I’m a nuclear engineer,” he replied. “It’s my job to know. It’s my job to keep everyone safe, and I will. I will keep us safe.”

“Promise?” Violet said.

“Promise.”

* * *

The hallways were emptier than usual because of the shift change, but they met Landon just outside the control room. He was coming from the direction of the break room, his sleek black wheelchair making its gentle whirring sound. It had wheels with fat spokes that were slanted inward, a heavily padded seat and backrest, and a sturdy frame. As Landon had explained in the past, it was technically an athletic wheelchair, but he’d gained an affinity for them during his years of playing wheelchair basketball. He was broad-shouldered and strong, a former athlete with a well-built upper body. His legs had atrophied from spina bifida, but this had rarely been an issue on the job.

“Hey there, buddy,” Landon said, when he spotted Shane rounding the corner. “I don’t usually beat you to the office. What’s the holdup?”

“I brought a guest with me this morning,” Shane said, “so watch your salty language today.”

“What are you talking about?” Landon replied. “I haven’t even said my first four letter word of the day.”

Shane shuffled slowly down the hall, holding his daughter’s hand and guiding her. She came somewhat reluctantly, her other hand sliding along the wall. Passing through security had made her nervous—the great hum and hiss of the metal detector, x-ray machine, and radiation monitor—and she kept fiddling with the small radiation monitoring device hanging around her neck. Like the workers, she had been given an orange hardhat, and it was slightly too big for her head, pushing against the rims of her sunglasses.

To make matters far worse, security had insisted she leave Ruby behind. They’d made a place for her beloved black lab in the security office, but Violet had balked at the idea. It was Shane’s fault. He’d pulled strings to get approval for Violet to come to work with him—no easy feat—but he’d forgotten to get clearance for Ruby.

That’ll put a damper on the day, he thought.

Fortunately, Violet knew Landon well—he was practically family—so when she heard his voice, she relaxed a bit.

“Hey there, Vivi,” Landon said. Only Landon could get away with calling her Vivi. “Where’s your furry sidekick? I’ve never seen the two of you apart.” He was particularly fond of the dog.

“They wouldn’t let me bring her into the building,” Violet said. “Even though she’s a trained guide dog, they said it’s not safe to bring an animal—any animal—into the plant, so she’s sitting back there by herself.”

“Not by herself,” Shane said gently. “The security team will take good care of her, and we can check on her from time to time. We’ll bring her something to eat during my lunch break.”

“I don’t know what they’re afraid of,” Violet said. “She never bites, and she doesn’t get into anything. She doesn’t even bark unless I’m in trouble. If we brought her inside, she would sit quietly and mind her own business all day long, except for pee breaks.”

“It’s just company protocol,” Shane said. “Sorry, I should have tried to clear it first. I didn’t realize it would be a problem.”

“Don’t you worry about it, Violet,” Landon said. “I won’t let this injustice stand. I’ll file a formal complaint. It’s not nice separating a kid from her loyal sidekick. If we have to take this all the way to the board of directors, so be it. Policy must be rewritten.”

Shane shook his head at Landon. “It’s fine. It’s only for a few hours. Ruby will be okay. We’ll check on her at lunchtime, get her something to eat, take her potty, and everything will be okay.”

“She doesn’t know that,” Violet said. “She doesn’t know we’re coming back at lunchtime.” Finally, Violet shrugged and rolled her head back on her shoulders. When she did, the orange hardhat almost fell off, and she had to grab it. “Oh well, nothing we can do about it, I guess. I’ll give her an extra treat after we get home tonight.”

“There you go,” Shane said. “Great idea.”

“I don’t know why you wanted to come here anyway, kid,” Landon said. “Should’ve gone to work with your mom at the CDC. You know your dad’s job is incredibly boring, right?”

“Dad says his job is to keep everyone safe,” Violet said.

“He’s not wrong.” Landon turned and wheeled toward the control room door, beckoning for them to follow. “But you’d be surprised how boring it is keeping everyone safe.”

“Now, now,” Shane said, laying a hand lightly on his daughter’s shoulder. “Don’t undersell the experience, Landon. She’s been looking forward to this.”

“All I’m saying is you should have gone with your mom,” Landon said. “She works with diseases. She’s battling deadly viruses on the daily, keeping world-devouring pandemics at bay with nothing but grit and determination.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Shane said. “She does have a lot of grit and determination, though, I’ll give you that.”

“Centers for Disease Control. That’s her place of employment, right? Disease control, man. They’re protecting us from mutating Ebola and bio-engineered smallpox. Those are the real dangers right there, not some silly old nuclear power plant. Nothing exciting happens here.”

“Dad said yes first,” Violet said.

“I did,” Shane said. “Plus, your mom is technically a statistician for the CDC. She’s not battling bio-engineered smallpox, but they do work to prevent diseases. He’s right about that.”

“It’s fine,” Violet said. “Except for poor Ruby, I don’t mind coming here. I can visit Mom’s place next time.”

The curve of a long green console took up most of the center of the control room, its surface covered in a complex array of gauges, screens, buttons, and knobs. A low hum filled the room. Violet reacted upon entering the room, perking up and turning her head first one way and then the other.

“The air is different in here,” she said. “Feels kind of weird. Sort of electric, if that makes sense.”

“Lots and lots of warm electronics,” Landon said, wheeling himself up to the console and leaning in close to one of the monitors. “That’s what you feel. It kind of smells plasticky, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Violet replied.

Landon’s elbow crutches were leaning against the end of the console. He kept them close, but he preferred using the wheelchair. When Shane took a seat, they started to slide so he caught them and set them on the floor. As Landon began cycling through system menus, Shane called his daughter over, took her right hand, and laid it on the console beside his keyboard.

“You feel that?” he asked. “That’s my computer. I spend a whole lot of time at this computer.”

“I can almost see it,” she said. “The screen is bright right now, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. The starting screen is a light blue color.”

Though Violet was visually impaired, Shane knew she could perceive light. She described bright lights as vague, distant blobs. She could also tell when she was in a completely dark room. Beyond that, she was incapable of perceiving shapes or colors.

“We monitor every system in the station from this room.” Shane turned to Landon. “In fact, we can pretty much determine everything that’s happening from right here, and we can call other departments if we need to talk to them.”

“On rare occasions, we even leave the room,” Landon said.

“That’s true,” Shane said. “In fact, I was thinking about giving her a tour of the facility when the rest of the staff get here. She could meet some of the department heads and hear what they do. What do you think?”

“Sorry, pal,” Landon replied. “After the software upgrade, we’ve got to run through the rest of those scenarios this morning. The tour will have to wait until after lunch.”

“Oh, man, I thought we finished those yesterday.”

“Not even close,” Landon said. “They’re being especially comprehensive this time.”

Shane guided his daughter’s hand to the next seat, and she sat down.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’ll take you on a tour a little later,” Shane said. “Just hang out here for a bit while we get some work done. Do you need a drink or anything? I could run to the break room and get you something.”

“I’m fine, Dad,” Violet replied, feeling the edge of the console and resting her forearms against a spot that was clear of buttons, gauges, or knobs. “Don’t worry about me. Just do your work. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You’re never a bother,” he said.

“Brace yourself, Vivi,” Landon said. “Running through end-of-the-world scenarios while pretending they can never happen gets dull after a few hours.”

Shane almost shushed his friend, but it was too late. The words were out. Violet pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and frowned.

“End of the world?” she said. “What do you mean by that?”

“Just scenarios,” Shane said. “Not real life. We’re testing a recent software upgrade by seeing how it responds to theoretical situations.”

“What kind of situations?” Violet asked.

But at that moment, a harsh squawk came out of one of the tiny speakers beside Shane’s computer console as a window popped up on his screen. A red message flashed brightly: CORONAL MASS EJECTION EVENT IMMINENT TWO MINUTES. It flashed a few times before he registered what he was reading.

“Coronal mass ejection,” he said. “Landon, did you start the simulation already?”

Landon leaned back in his chair to get a look at Shane’s screen. “I haven’t done anything,” he said. “I haven’t pressed a single button yet.” A two-way radio sat near the edge of the console, and he grabbed it. “Let me see if I can find out what’s going on. Maybe they’re running some kind of remote drill. Is that possible? I mean, it can’t be real.”

“If it was real they would have given us a lot more than two minutes warning,” Shane said, feeling a flutter of anxiety despite his words. “It has to be some kind of test.”

“Okay, let me see if I can get hold of someone,” Landon said. “If it’s an unplanned simulation from on high, I’m going to pitch a fit. We have enough scenarios to run through without the higher-ups messing around. Sometimes, they’re too clever for their own good.”

“Dad?”

Violet managed one plaintive word before the power went out. Every light and screen went dark, and Shane heard cooling fans winding down.

“Well, that’s not good,” Landon said. “We just lost everything.”

Shane had been trained to handle this kind of scenario—he knew the steps—but having his daughter present changed everything. He could hear her panicked breathing, the squeak of her chair as she fidgeted. It was distracting. He wanted to comfort her, but he also knew they had to act fast.

“Dad, what’s happening? What’s a coronal…whatever?”

“Coronal mass ejection,” Landon said. “A massive burst of plasma from the sun. Causes an electromagnetic pulse which can knock out the power grid, fry electronics, and do all sorts of bad, bad stuff. I’m going to take a wild guess here and say it’s not a simulation.”

The control room was quiet, too quiet, but Shane heard shouting in the hallway—panic throughout the building just as the second shift was arriving. Terrible timing.

“Backup power’s not coming on,” he said. “Could the CME have taken out the generators?”

“Doubt it,” Landon said in the darkness. He sounded breathless. “If it’s a CME, the backup generators might be fine. They’re just old-fashioned diesel engines. No electronics in them to be fried. We’ll have to start them manually though.”

Shane was still half-convinced it was a test, but he didn’t like the nervous edge in Landon’s voice. The man was usually so calm and collected.

“I’ll take care of it,” Shane said. He started to rise from his chair, but Violet’s hand clamped down on his arm.

“No, Dad. Don’t leave. I’m scared.”

“It’s okay, honey. I just need—”

He heard the whir of Landon’s wheelchair. “I’ve got it. You two stay here. I know the way, and I can move faster than either of you. We need to act quickly.”

“No, I’ll come with you,” Shane said. “It might require two of us to get the generators working. Violet, you can come, too. I won’t leave you here by yourself.”

“Are we in trouble?” she said. “What happens if you don’t get them working?”

“If the main power is knocked out, the control rods drop into the core, and the reactor is flooded with water to drive the temperature down,” Shane said. “That can’t happen until we get the backup generators on, but we will. It’ll just take a minute.”

“You’re talking about a meltdown,” Violet said, her voice quavering, her hand squeezing his arm tighter. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“No, no, we have…plenty of time to get things under control.” He had to force the words out. But it’s a test, right? It has to be? If it’s a real CME, they would have warned us a lot sooner.

Shane heard the hiss of the control room door as Landon heaved it open and wheeled into the hallway. Shane rose and grabbed Violet’s hand. Then he followed after Landon.

He wanted to believe they had plenty of time. He almost did believe it, but he’d never heard Landon sound so scared.

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