Flashpoint Publisher's Pack 2: Books 4-6:
Author: Tara Ellis; Mike Kraus
Date: 2021-01-22 08:00:00+00:00

FLASHPOINT

Publisher Pack 2

Books 4 - 6

By

Tara Ellis

Mike Kraus

© 2019 Muonic Press Inc
www.muonic.com

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Table of Contents

Decay

Preface

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

Convergence

Preface

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

Mercy

Preface

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

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Special Thanks

Special thanks to my awesome beta team, without whom this book wouldn’t be nearly as great.

Thank you!

Decay

The Flashpoint Series Book 4

Preface

The art of survival is a complicated tapestry, and the survivors of the flashpoint are learning it’s a different pattern for everyone.

It’s been two weeks since an extinction-level gamma-ray burst released its fury on the Earth. With the unsuspecting population purged from two-thirds of the planet, those who are left must claw their way back to a semblance of modern civilization. The deadly gamma radiation and massive EMP it produced were enough to cast them into the 1800s and as the days draw into weeks, it’s becoming clear that their problems aren’t over. In fact, the worst of it might still be looming on the horizon.

Drawn to the town of Mercy for different reasons, a group of refugees have banded together in the middle of the chaos. Tom comes across as your typical cowboy, committed to getting his son, Ethan, home safely to their ranch. As their relationship is challenged in inconceivable ways, the deeper layers of both men are revealed.

Danny isn’t from Mercy, and her journey to the small mountain town is driven by the love for her father. A paramedic by trade, the often-underestimated woman has proven she’s a fighter. With her companion Sam, and a golden retriever named Grace, they’ve overcome their own challenges along the way and have teamed up with Tom and Ethan. Together, the ragtag group has pushed ahead and are nearing their destination. Unfortunately, like everything else they’ve fought for over the past two weeks, nothing comes easy in the new world.

When General Montgomery found himself in charge of not only what was left of the military, but the country itself, he began to drag the pieces back together. In order to do so, he had to make sacrifices. Not everyone has agreed with his tactics, but The Man in the Mountain, sheltered deep inside the Cheyenne bunker in Colorado, is clear on his mission. Armed with the Survivors List, a compilation of people critical to ensuring mankind’s survival, the general has brought on the 1st Force Reconnaissance team to collect them.

Led by Master Sergeant James Campbell, the recon unit are the Marines’ finest. Highly trained for special ops, they can go where others can’t, and that is exactly what the general needs. However, James is a man of honor and when he sees firsthand what has been deemed necessary to ensure the protection of the people, he begins to question General Montgomery’s motives.

Mayor Patty has also been burdened with the responsibility of the safety of her own people, the citizens of Mercy. Though full of resourceful and able-bodied individuals, the logistics of keeping over six hundred fed and healthy is nearly impossible. Without the help of a select group, Mercy would fall victim to the same violence besieging the rest of the nation.

Chloe came to Mercy lost and scared, part of a group of troubled teens on a hike that was supposed to improve their outlook on life. While the flashpoint has certainly changed her perspective, the young girl has been able to rise above her hardships and step up as a leader. With her two friends, also troubled teens, and their counselor, Bishop, they have integrated with the people of Mercy, but still feel a need to continually earn their place among them.

As the environment evolves into a new balance, so do the inhabitants. Russell Boyd has come to Mercy on a mission. Though it isn’t quite as noble as the general’s, or Mayor Patty.

Russell will help the Earth right its wrongs and he is her weapon of righteousness.

Chapter 1

CORA

Los Angeles, California

“Get her!”

Eleven-year-old Cora cringed at the words and her breath came in ragged gasps as she ran for her life. It was The Crazies. They’d found her.

Her foot slapped into something slick on the pavement and she slid sideways, her thin arms flailing momentarily as she caught her balance. Grunting, Cora threw herself behind a burned-out truck and scrambled over the ground on her hands and knees. Strands of dark hair that escaped her loose braid stuck to her lips, blowing in front of her with each exhalation. Something sharp tore at her bare legs, but she ignored the flash of pain and instead focused on the dark alley only ten feet away.

“Cut her off!” a man shouted. His voice was close by and heavy with the sort of maniacal excitement that had earned the scavengers their name.

The alley. She was in the alley. Momentarily blinded by the deeper darkness, Cora faltered a step and then chastised herself for the hesitation. She had to beat them to the library if there was any chance of escape.

Cora knew The Crazies was a stupid, silly thing to call the men who hunted the streets of Los Angeles. It was the first name that came to mind when she saw them beating a woman on the fifth day after the light thingy happened. Cora prided herself on having a large vocabulary and was a voracious reader, except when she was witnessing horrible things her young brain simply couldn’t rationalize.

There!

The eight-story structure loomed tall at the end of the alley and created such a sense of relief that Cora almost smiled. She was approaching from the back of the building, instead of the grand entrance surrounded by park-like grounds with exotic statues and even a pool. Mamma M told her all about the history of the Los Angeles Central Library, and she was the reason Cora had survived so long.

There was a big green dumpster straight ahead, close to the cement wall, and the small girl dared to look back over her shoulder as she sprinted for it. Large, dark shadows were moving across the street behind her, spilling out from the alley. Heavy, ominous pounding announced the approach of The Crazies and Cora knew she wasn’t going to make it inside unseen. But she didn’t have a choice.

At least once inside the labyrinth of rooms and stacks of books, she stood a chance of staying hidden. Cora was good at hiding. If she remained outside…honestly, she didn’t know what they’d do to her. They’d certainly take her backpack, filled with her measly score for the day of a bottle of toilet water she’d discovered in an office bathroom, and a granola bar in a desk drawer in the same building.

Then, they would hurt her. Cora had heard others in the library talking about how some groups were resorting to eating each other already. That the odd smell, reminiscent of a barbeque where the pork was cooked too long, wasn’t pork. Cora shivered and began to whimper as she rolled the dumpster aside far enough to reveal a service door. She couldn’t lock it behind her, because the whole handle had been torn out days before. That was how she was able to use it.

Certain that rough hands were about to grab her at any moment, Cora squeezed through the door and stumbled down the three cement steps on the other side. The clatter of the metal cart being manhandled echoed into the passageway behind her and as she ducked into a side hall, the outer door slammed open.

“Come on, little kitten!” mocked the same man who had yelled before. “You can’t hide from us.”

Removing her dirty sandals, Cora began to tiptoe through the service hallway as fast and as silently as possible, while the group of men pursuing her made no effort to be quiet. That’s what she was counting on.

A light snapped on, and a beam cut through the thick darkness of the windowless hallways. Cora gasped at the unexpected sight and then slapped a hand over her mouth to try and smother the sound. The light bobbed and the footsteps quickened as they ran. They’d heard her.

Cora blinked, battling her tears of fear and frustration. She did her best to ignore the sounds of pursuit and focused on her goal.

Turn right here…

“Here, kitty, kitty!”

Now, turn left…

Shadows moved grotesquely in the dancing light as the men closed in on her, and Cora used her terror to push her legs faster than they’d ever moved before. Even if it had been daylight, that area of the building had no windows and was perpetually in a state of darkness. Normally, she would light her stub of a candle, but had to instead rely on the dozens of times she’d walked the route, running her hands down the wall to help guide her.

There! Cora gasped again, this time in relief, as she came to a dead end and her hand wrapped around the handle of the only door. Opening it, she was greeted by the flickering light of several candles.

The main room of the library was called the rotunda, according to Momma M, who had worked there for over ten years. Cora met the woman there the day after her life was destroyed. The day her mom was killed because she’d been a brat.

When Cora had found out she wouldn’t be able to attend football camp with her two best friends because girls weren’t allowed, she’d pouted for two weeks. It was only after her mom promised to take her to Disneyland that she’d smiled again, and that was how they’d ended up in LA that day. It was all her fault.

Cora knew that wasn’t true, but it didn’t matter. When she was alone in the dark, replaying the day she watched her mother die over and over again…it was the only phrase that echoed in her mind. It was her fault.

They’d been on a tour bus, going through downtown Los Angeles on their way to Hollywood. Cora had been shocked and dismayed at most of the highlights of the tour and opted not to get off the bus, out of fear. The only building she wanted to see was the Central Library. They passed it at one point and she’d bobbed up and down in her seat, only to watch it recede out the back window. Getting up for a better view of it as they drove away was what ended up saving her life.

There’d been an odd, whitish light that washed out the sun and made everything look brighter than it really was. Then, the bus died. Cora had turned back to where her mom was still seated, in the middle of the bus, with the intention of complaining about yet one more thing. As their eyes met, another bus slammed into them. Cora figured her mom died right away, based on what she looked like afterward. She’d read that was supposed to help with grief, but it didn’t. It couldn’t erase any of it from her mind, or change the fact that she would never see her mom again.

When no one came to help even though she’d sat with her mom’s body for hours, Cora did the only thing she could think of doing. She went to the library. She was able to see it still, even through all the smoke. By then it was getting dark and people were already rioting and looting. Fires raged in too many buildings to count, but not the library, and that was all that mattered to Cora.

“Hey!”

Cora’s head snapped up, slamming her back to the present, as she sought out the source of the warning shout. A woman with long black hair was standing near the main check-out desk, holding a bat. Shrinking back, Cora veered away from the lady. However, the woman continued to shake the bat and it wasn’t directed at Cora.

“You can’t be here!” she screamed, pointing the bat at someone across the room.

Cora turned to see four men running into the rotunda, each of them clasping a different weapon. She guessed that the man in front, holding a large machete, was the one who’d been taunting her. She smiled. Her plan might already be working.

There were at least three different groups of survivors living in the central library. While they weren’t as bad as The Crazies and didn’t make people disappear, they still used force to take what they wanted. Cora knew that based on what she’d seen and heard. Since she wasn’t sure who could be trusted, she avoided all of them. It was safer that way.

The rotunda was an immense, three-story tall room with domed mosaic ceilings. The marble floor added an air of regality to the intricate architecture, so that it looked and felt more like a cathedral than a library. In the daylight, something called the zodiac chandelier was visible and featured a glass Earth that hung suspended above them all.

As Cora scooted in between a row of books, she glanced up at the murky ceiling, and thought fleetingly of how it was an accurate representation of the darkness the planet was now suffering in.

Other voices joined the argument, and Cora took advantage of the distraction by dashing behind the main counter. That was where she’d first encountered Momma M, a large black woman with an incredibly sharp mind and huge heart. She knew everything about the library, and Los Angeles. She’d taken Cora in and made sure she had enough food and water for several days. Momma M was also the one who had shown Cora how to disappear into the walls.

Kneeling down, Cora pulled at an ornate, metal grate that was situated low on the back wall. It revealed a small opening less than two by two feet. It was big enough for her, though, and Cora slid in feet first so she could pull the grate into place behind her.

Once inside, she wiggled backwards on her stomach, the cement cold against her bare skin as her T-shirt snaked up. Cora wasn’t sure what exactly the passageways were originally used for. Maybe heating or something equally boring, but she’d come up with an incredible tale involving fairies, evil trolls, and a handsome prince. She was the princess, of course, and like any good story, she would be rescued at the end.

Cora choked back a sob as she clung to the belief that she would be found. That her dad, from their home in Texas, would somehow find her there, hidden in the walls of the Los Angeles Central Library, and whisk her back home.

Her feet lost their purchase and then hung in midair momentarily as Cora reached her goal, some thirty feet back from the entrance. Pushing harder, her knees moved out into the open space, and then she was hanging, suspended over what could have been a hundred or ten feet, but in reality was only five.

Cora dropped down and landed in a crouch, holding her breath for a moment in the pitch blackness to make sure there wasn’t any other movement. When all she heard was the escalating argument echoing in the distance, she closed her eyes and took one long, deep breath.

Slowly removing her backpack, Cora then dug a lighter out of her back pocket and felt around in the darkness for a candle. After lighting one, she hesitated and then lit a second. It had been a bad night.

Cora’s “room” was some sort of central connecting hub for the network of small tunnels. The space itself wasn’t more than five feet across and octagonal. She had lined the walls with books, and covered the floor with a motley collection of blankets, pillows, and a couple of small couch cushions from the reading room. One section of the wall was left bare, where Cora was keeping track of the days by making marks on the cement with a piece of chalk she’d found.

She had started doing that on the second day Momma M didn’t come back. The older woman went to do some scavenging, because she said there wasn’t any more water left in the pipes. Cora understood that they couldn’t live more than a few days without water, but they had both seen the violence that raged through the city and it scared her. She had begged Momma M not to go without her, but the kind woman wouldn’t allow it.

The tour guide on the bus two weeks before had talked nonstop. Cora remembered three things he’d said: the city of Los Angeles was over five hundred square miles, had more than four million people in it, and was bigger than New York.

Cora tried to get to the ocean. She had another fantasy about living on the beach and surviving off the land, like The Swiss Family Robinson. Unfortunately, the only jungle Cora managed to see was concrete. Even though she’d left early in the morning, she ended up getting caught out in the dark. The reality was that she had no idea which direction to go, or for how long. She was lost.

Sighing, Cora grabbed her chalk and made another line on the wall. Fourteen days since the end of the world. Sitting down on one of the cushions, she pulled her Frozen-themed backpack into her lap and stared longingly at the smiling girl in the image. Closing her eyes, she envisioned herself high up in a castle turret, deep in the woods of a medieval forest.

Soon.

Her prince would come and rescue her.

Chapter 2

RUSSELL

Quarantine, Mercy, Montana

“I thought we should meet, Father Rogers.”

Russell did his best to appear meek as he sized up the woman seated across from him. Mayor Patty Woods was formidable. That much was immediately apparent. She looked to be in her sixties, of average size, with her graying hair pulled up tight and neat. Her nails were trimmed but not painted. She wore little makeup, if any, other than some eyeliner and lip gloss. She sat with her hands folded on the table, leaning forward slightly; a position that, while reserved, welcomed conversation. Russell knew exactly how to handle the mayor.

“Especially in light of how you came to be in Mercy,” Mayor Patty continued. “Jed returned a short time ago from his run and confirmed your encounter, so I also wanted to thank you, in addition to introducing myself.”

Russell took care to also lean in to show interest, except that he opened his arms in an inviting manner and placed his hands palms-down on the table. “Please, Madam Mayor, call me Russell. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and helping Jed was something I’m sure anyone in my position would have done.”

The mayor didn’t move, nor did she comment on his bravery. Russell resisted the urge to frown. The conversation itself was unexpected since he wouldn’t be out of quarantine for another nine hours. That was when his twenty-four hours of isolation would be up. He glanced at the finger paintings that adorned the walls surrounding them and did his best not to cringe. The town had converted the small school building into a clinic, and the kindergarten room was their quarantine area. According to the young man who’d escorted him there a day ago, it was because the room was on the far end of the building, and had its own separate bathrooms. Funny, how having the use of a flushing toilet made one feel human again. It was one of the perks of living in a small town; everything was on a septic system. All you needed was a bucket of water next to the toilet to keep things moving.

The silence had drawn out to the point of being awkward so Russell gave the mayor a quizzical look.

“Jed said you never mentioned being a pastor.” While Mayor Patty’s tone wasn’t accusatory, neither was it friendly.

Russell had been expecting the question. He took a moment to sigh heavily while looking down at his hands, his shoulders slumping. When he looked back up at the mayor, he offered her his most charming smile, knowing the effect it had on most women. “Mayor, can I be honest with you?”

Sliding her hands back across the table, the older woman allowed them to fall into her lap as she leaned back in her seat and relaxed slightly, her demeanor changing. “Let’s both drop the formalities. Call me Patty. And I’ve always preferred the truth.”

“Well…Patty, the reason I didn’t talk with Jed about my role as a pastor is because I’m not certain I deserve that title anymore. I—” Russell turned away from Patty then, his handsome face contorted with pain and strife. “I’ve seen things, turned a blind eye to atrocities, and the truth is that I’m questioning my faith. I’m not sure I can get it back.” He let out a slow breath and discreetly wiped away a tear.

Patty reached out and placed a comforting hand on top of Russell’s and he knew he had her. He responded by hanging his head further, submitting himself to her platitudes.

“I’ve had my faith challenged several times during my life,” Patty offered, her voice kind. “While it all pales in comparison to what’s happening now, it still comes down to what we do with it. Questioning our faith is a normal, human reaction. Allowing it to help you grow and solidify your beliefs is the challenge. Otherwise, it will destroy it.”

Russell placed his other hand on Patty’s and gave it a quick squeeze before pulling away. Nodding his head, he took an audible breath and then rubbed his hands together. “You’re a wise woman, Patty. Perhaps you should lead the church body, as well as the town.”

“Gracious, no!” Patty retorted, blushing slightly. “I’m having a hard enough time as it is. I’m certainly not qualified to be responsible for anyone’s soul.” Patty eyed Russell for a moment and seemed to come to a decision. “You know, a good method for rediscovering one’s faith is to become submerged in it.”

Russell steepled his fingers and raised them to his lips while squinting at Patty. He already knew where she was headed and wasn’t surprised at the ease with which he’d manipulated her. It really didn’t take much with most people, although he had to admit to a slight surge of disappointment. He’d hoped she might prove to be more of a challenge. “What are you suggesting?” he asked with false trepidation.

“Father White has been leading Mercy down the road to righteousness for more than thirty years. Although he’s an amazing priest who has scared many a child into submission with his sermons, the flashpoint took a toll on his health.”

“Radiation?” Russell guessed, eyebrows raised.

“Unfortunately,” Patty confirmed. “Father White is over eighty years old and became quite ill. He’s still struggling and I…we all worry about how hard he’s pushing himself. I think it would be a welcome relief for him to have some help.”

Russell shifted in his chair and looked up at the Mickey Mouse clock on the wall, although it of course didn’t work. Doing his best to appear uncomfortable he cleared his throat before answering. “You’ve been more than kind, and to offer me a chance to explore my convictions is—well, extremely gracious. How can I say no?”

Patty smiled, and Russell was intrigued, as always, by the course of human nature. They were essentially creatures forever looking for approval, which then equated to a false sense of love and acceptance. It was extremely liberating once you didn’t constrain yourself with those needs.

“I spoke with Tim’s parents,” Patty said, and Russell’s interest was once again piqued. “They said they never heard of you.”

Russell’s smile was genuine as he prepared his scripted response. He was rather enjoying the conversation now. “I’m not at all surprised to hear that. Tim said they weren’t churchgoers and had in fact had a falling out with him a couple of years ago over religion. I doubt bringing up his Episcopal priest friend would have been a warm topic of conversation.”

Patty chuckled. “That sounds like the Ridgeways. They always make sure I keep a strict delineation between church and state. I once had Father White open a city hall meeting with prayer and I was lectured on it at every opportunity by Mr. Ridgeway for over a month.” Her smile faded and she became serious again. “They’re devastated, of course, to hear about Tim, but are grateful to you for bringing them the information.”

“I first met Tim over a year ago,” Russell lied. Leaning back in the chair again, he became thoughtful while staring out a nearby window. The steep mountains of the valley were visible in the distance, reminding him of where he was. He had reached his goal and needed to solidify his place in Mercy. Over the next few days he’d be laying the foundation, and it all began with a solid story of his past.

“I went to the asylum where Tim worked as a guard, to give communion to the residents,” Russell explained, looking back at Patty. “He attended the service and stayed afterward to speak with me. It was the beginning of an unexpected friendship. He soon began going to my small church in town and we often went fishing afterward, on Sunday afternoons. Tim reminded me of my younger brother,” Russell said, which wasn’t a complete falsehood. “He was kindhearted and treated all of the residents under his care with empathy and compassion. I only wish I was the one who had been shot that night, instead of him. There wasn’t anything I could do.”

Patty made a clucking sound and patted his hand again. “No one blames you, Father. I mean, Russell. It’s a miracle that you made it this far.” Standing, Patty went to a bottle of hand sanitizer and saturated her hands. “It’s already obvious that you’re not ill, but I hope you understand we still have to take these precautions.”

“Completely understandable,” Russell answered, impressed with how priestly he already sounded.

Patty hesitated at the door and then looked back at him. Her eyes were glossy and her lips quivered. He was impressed that after all of the death and extremes Patty experienced, she was still able to show such emotion. “Tim was a good man,” she said shakily. “I knew him since he was a boy. Though I’m sad to learn he didn’t make it, there’s some comfort in knowing that his soul was at peace.”

Russell thought about those final moments as Tim writhed on top of him, clawing at his arms…the scuff marks on the floor. He watched as the door closed shut behind Mayor Patty, and then allowed a sneer to transform his handsome features into something vile.

“Peace isn’t what I have to offer.”

Chapter 3

PATTY

Mercy, Montana

“Father, I thought you’d welcome the help!” Patty stood with her hands on her hips, facing the stubborn old man. “The church apartment hasn’t been used in years. It seems like the perfect solution to getting the help you’ve been asking for.”

Father White waved a hand at Patty before turning away from her in annoyance. He shuffled back up the sidewalk, toward the church. It was an antiquated building, exactly what someone would expect to see in a small-town setting: white clapboard siding, large ornate stained-glass windows, wide-sweeping steps, and even a bell tower.

While the Catholic clergyman had always taken great pride in his church and large congregation, Patty never thought he’d be so stingy about sharing it. “Father!” she called to his back, genuinely shocked by his behavior. “You won’t even talk to me about it?”

Huffing loudly, Father White stopped and turned back abruptly, tugging at his robes as he did so. Patty noticed he’d taken to wearing the formal attire all the time, rather than strictly during services, like he used to. She considered the very real possibility that the older man had been pushed past his limits both physically and emotionally. The thought was disturbing and also saddening. While he could be ornery, the pastor had been a staple of Mercy for as long as she could remember.

“The man left his flock.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Pastor White seemed to be challenging Patty to deny it.

Patty blinked, taken aback. That was why he was in a huff? “My understanding is that his church burned down, father. What else was he supposed to do?”

“The congregation is the body of the church, not the building,” Father White said stiffly. “He abandoned his parishioners.”

Patty studied the man’s face for a moment, taking in the deep lines and blue eyes that still sparkled with intelligence. She knew he had a kind heart, which was why his reaction was so unexpected. However, she had to acknowledge that he might have a valid point. “Father, we’ve been extremely blessed here in Mercy. We’ve been protected from the worst of what’s happening to the rest of the world. I understand your concern, I just think it’s the sort of question you should be asking Father Rogers yourself, instead of judging him.”

The remark had the desired effect as Father White flinched in acknowledgement of the accurate statement. He cleared his throat and squinted up at the clouds building on the far edge of the valley. “He’s still in quarantine.”

Patty nearly failed to stifle the laugh that threatened to escape. “He’ll be out in time for the barbeque later tonight, Father. Perhaps that would be a good opportunity for you to meet him. You know, he did travel over five hundred miles to reach Mercy, just so he could let Mr. and Mrs. Ridgeway know about Tim, who was a part of his congregation.”

Father White grunted in response, but didn’t say no. It was progress.

“Three days,” Patty said, reaching out to rest a hand on the older man’s arm. “That’s all I’m asking, Father. Allow Pastor Rogers to stay at the church for three days, and if, at the end of that time, you still think it’s a bad idea, I’ll find different accommodations for him.”

The distinct jangling of tack and wagon parts caused both Patty and Father White to turn toward the road. Sure enough, Caleb and Tane were seated atop the old wagon, headed their way. Patty knew she was going to lose her chance to get him to agree, so she looked over at the pastor and purposely crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. “So? Do we have a deal?”

Throwing both of his hands up in defeat, Father White began to shuffle away again. “Three days, and not a minute longer,” he said over his shoulder.

“What’s that grin for?” Caleb asked as he pulled the wagon to a stop a few feet away.

Patty’s smile widened in response to her husband’s question. “Oh, just a little PR. What are you two up to?” She asked, turning her focus onto Tane. Mr. Latu wasn’t well known to Patty, but he’d been spending a lot of time with Caleb ever since they began work on the radios. The Pacific Islander was one of the biggest men Patty had ever seen and the combination of his calm demeanor and inviting dark eyes intrigued her. He moved to Mercy three years prior and according to Caleb, had a daughter who lived in Helena but had been out of town during the flashpoint.

“Bishop spent all morning refining the filtration system on the spring,” Tane explained. He gestured at the large green plastic water tank in the back of the wagon. It had been an incredible find, tucked away in a barn at one of the farms. It held five hundred gallons and was originally meant for watering cattle. It would have been impossible to move it around without the wagon, and they weren’t even sure the cart could handle the weight until the first, nerve-wracking trip.

Tane slapped the side of the tank. “He’s improved the flow so that it’s nearly twice as much. Once we work out the hiccups on filling and delivering it, we estimate at least a thousand gallons a day is possible.”

“When can we start filling the reserve tank?” Patty asked. She saw Tane’s smile falter and realized she’d done it again…failed to recognize an accomplishment while reaching for a further goal. “This is amazing!” she rushed to add. “I’m just eager to see some drinking water in the main holding tank.” The five-thousand-gallon tank had been dragged down, literally, from the useless water-treatment plant. It was their goal to have it filled by winter. Even then, it would only be enough to supply the town’s population for five days, if something happened to the spring.

“Understandable,” Tane replied, nodding in agreement.

“We’re on our way to drop this off at the water center,” Caleb explained the obvious. He was referring to what used to be the coffee stand and its adjacent parking lot, located at the south end of town. It was a good, central location with plenty of open space for setting up the necessary water stations, as well as the holding tank. “We’ll exchange this clean water for the five-gallon river water barrels so the teens can make their house-check in quadrant one.”

“Did quadrant four get completed yesterday?” Patty asked, realizing she’d been neglecting to check in with the extremely important task force. The past two days had been a whirlwind of activity involving the butchering of Sandy’s steer, organizing the town dinner, and getting a solid start on the farmer’s market.

“I believe Betty took quadrant four’s notebook up to your office this morning,” Caleb replied, looking concerned. “Haven’t you been to your office yet? It’s nearly noon.”

Patty felt disoriented for a moment and looked around fleetingly to locate the sun. How could it be so late?  She hadn’t even had breakfast yet, let alone lunch. She should have never gotten sidetracked with the newcomer, but the Ridgeways somehow heard about Tim and the mysterious pastor, and she couldn’t avoid the conversation any more when they stopped her that morning on her way into town.

If she dug a little deeper, Patty might have to admit that she was also avoiding the house-check task force. It was headed up by Gary, whom she’d been dodging for the past two days. However, Councilman Paul, their old mayor Ned, and Councilwoman Betty were a part of the group, so there was really no excuse. Patty simply had too much on her plate.

Rubbing at her forehead in a futile attempt to stop a mounting headache, Patty figured it was more of a platter, when she added Bishop to the growing list of people to evade. Caleb didn’t seem to think there was anything unusual about his interest in the radio and it was hard for Patty to convey why she’d found the situation odd. Bishop was the golden boy and she’d been the one to allow him to stay in spite of Paul’s protests. With everything that was going on, it wasn’t in anyone’s best interest to say or do anything to cast doubt on Bishop, and thereby her judgement.

Giving up on stopping the pain in her head, she dropped her arm in defeat. “I’m headed to my office now,” Patty said to her husband while glancing up at him and hoping he didn’t pick up on the weariness in her voice. “I’ll go through the requests and organize a response this afternoon.”

The system was rather ingenious, Patty had to give that much credit to Paul. There were a hundred and sixty-eight houses on the outskirts of Mercy. While the bulk of them were located in close proximity to the main area of the town, quite a few were spread out further into the valley. Fortunately, the most remote homes were working farms and belonged to people who could manage better on their own than any organized group could pretend to do. That left a grid of four sections, each with roughly thirty houses per quadrant.

Paul put together his task force and they spent several days creating detailed notebooks, one for each quadrant. Each house had a section within the notebook, and that was how they tracked each home on a weekly basis, for their health, wants, and needs. It had been Betty’s idea to use the high school kids. She was a teacher and knew all of the teens and their families, and believed it was the perfect way to put them to work.

They ended up with a dozen kids, overseen by the four adults, working together to closely monitor the residents of Mercy.  The house-check task force was separate from the drinking water delivery, but they did offer river water, or what was lovingly referred to as “The Flush”.

Since Mercy didn’t have a central sewer system, everyone was on septic. Because of that, so long as they had a source of water to pour into the bowl, they could continue flushing. It was one of the things Patty hadn’t thought of, when discussing disaster scenarios in the past, and it had turned out to be extremely important. When it came to sanitation and keeping people healthy, having human feces piling up was something to be avoided at all costs.

That was why making sure everyone had working toilets was part of the house-check task forces duties. The first week proved to be more than the teens could handle, and extra help was needed to get some toilets functioning again. Not everyone had the means to get out and carry the necessary water, so several homes were pretty nasty.

The church bell began to toll, marking the noon hour, and Patty jumped so high she nearly fell over. How Father White still managed to get up to the bell tower and pull that rope was a mystery. Laughing at herself, she went through the practiced gesture of smoothing down her hair to prove she was still in control. As the last gong faded, she moved toward the wagon. “Mind if I catch a ride with you?”

Instead of reaching out a hand to help Patty up, Caleb surprised her by jumping down next to her. Encircling her in his strong arms, he pulled her in close. “I worry about you, Patty,” he said into her hair. “You look so tired.”

Patty drew back and cupped her husband’s face with her hands, drawing on his strength. “I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t.”

Chapter 4

TOM

Near Grahams Place, Montana

Tom resisted the urge to yell at Ethan to slow down. He knew his son was capable of managing his own horse, and it probably wasn’t a bad idea to give the spirited gelding his own head every once in a while. Tom had gone out of his way the past two days to treat Ethan like more of an adult, especially in light of how he’d managed to orchestrate their release from the shelter.

Thanks to a forestry road Ethan’s Army friend told them about, they’d been able to shave several miles off their trip home by cutting east over to Montana Highway 87. After camping next to a lake the night before, their group now headed north again. Tom wasn’t as familiar with the region, although once they crossed Interstate 90, he’d know exactly where they were. From there, they were in the homestretch.

“It’s gorgeous out here,” Danny said as her horse trotted up next to Tom. “I don’t know why I’ve never been down this way before. I guess I was always too busy.”

Tom eyed Danny with some uncertainty. It wasn’t like her to make small talk. He’d come to accept the obvious fact several days ago that she didn’t like being around him. Not that he could blame her, after their initial encounter and his subsequent behavior at the FEMA camp. But something almost imperceptible had shifted over the past twenty-four hours. Since leaving the shelter, Danny was making more eye contact with him, was including him in conversations, and now…making small talk. Unless he was imagining it all, which was entirely possible.

“You’ve got that thousand-yard stare again,” Danny teased, narrowing her eyes at him. “I can’t decide if you’re still suffering from some concussion symptoms, or if you’re just a very serious guy with some deep layers.”

Chuckling, Tom removed his cowboy hat and ran his other hand through his thick, dark hair. “I’m going to have to go with the concussion theory,” he said, smiling back at her. Their eyes met briefly and there was something about the way she looked at him, the cool intelligence that made it clear he wasn’t fooling her.

Replacing his hat, Tom focused on the road ahead of them before gesturing up at the mountains to their west. “I think those are part of the Horn Mountain range,” he explained, choosing to reply to her original comment and avoiding any discussion about his “layers”. “It means we must be back in Montana.”

“We weren’t before?” Danny asked, looking amused.

Tom shifted in his saddle. “On that last part of the forest road and lake, we dipped back into Idaho.”

“Oh,” Danny replied, eyeing him again. “I guess I need to spend more time looking at the maps with you and Sam at night. I haven’t wanted to interrupt your man time.”

Tom looked over at her questioningly and saw that she was teasing him again. Knowing there was no way to back out of the bait she set, he changed the subject. “So, what made you decide to become a firefighter?”

Danny’s brows drew together and she screwed her nose up at him. “Most people ask me about my choice to be a paramedic.”

Feeling on more solid footing with the conversation, Tom shrugged his broad shoulders before smiling at her. “I figure I already know the answer to that. I’m much more intrigued with what motivates you to put on bunker gear and drag heavy equipment around.”

Danny rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those good ol’ boys who’s shocked anytime he meets a woman who can do a man’s job as well as a man.”

Tom couldn’t help it—he chortled first and then burst out into full laughter. When he saw Danny getting red in the face, he put his hands out to placate her. “I keep forgetting, you obviously haven’t met my mother. She single-handedly ran our ranch for a year after Dad died, and I was raised watching her do things some men can’t. She’s the one who taught me how to fish and how to hunt.”

“Oh,” Danny said quietly, clearly intrigued by the unexpected reaction.

Tom leaned forward against his saddle horn and tipped his hat up so she was sure to see his face and know he was being sincere. “I have the same level of respect for anyone who can step up and get things done when they need to, be they a man or a woman.”

Danny smiled then, and the way it transformed her face made his breath catch. “Honestly, the only reason I ever became a firefighter was because I had to in order to get my paramedic training. In our county, emergency services are fire-based, so you can’t be a medic without first being a firefighter. I specifically got hired on with our department so they’d put me through the classes and get me my certification. But you know what? The first time I put that bunker gear on and started playing with fire, I was hooked. If I could have stopped being a paramedic and stuck to just the fire side of business, I might—” Her voice trailed off and Danny got a faraway look.

“You might what?” Tom pressed, interested in hearing more of her story.

Wiping at her nose, Danny sat up straight and gave her head a shake. “Never mind. A conversation for another time. Preferably over a fire and a beer.”

It was Tom’s turn to smile. “Unless my mom pillaged the stash, I might be able to arrange that in a few days.”

Grace interrupted their discussion with a string of high-pitched barks. It didn’t sound normal and they both pulled their horses to a stop, alarmed.

“Something’s wrong,” Danny said, straining to see where the barking was coming from.

Tom also searched for the source, which was somewhere up ahead of them. Sam’s horse had chased after Tango, leaving Danny and Tom to trail behind. He chastised himself for allowing them to get so spread out. They needed to be more careful, especially on the steep, wooded roads where visibility wasn’t very far.

They’d only encountered a handful of people since leaving the shelter and most of them simply kept to themselves. One woman had happily greeted them and eventually traded a dozen fresh eggs for a mac and cheese MRE. Tucked away in the mountains it was easy to forget what was happening, but given their recent stay with the US government, Tom couldn’t accept any excuses. He knew better than to get so distracted.

“Grace!” he shouted, spurring Lily into a gallop. “Ethan!” his voice echoed through the valley and mixed with Grace’s continued barking. Underlying it was another new sound, that caused Tom to break his horse into a run.

Other riders, coming through the trees from either side. All he could think about was Ethan and that he’d let him out of his sight. “Ethan!” he yelled again, and this time he heard a reply.

Rounding a bend in the road, Tom first saw Grace bounding toward him, with Ethan and Sam several hundred feet farther away. They were stopped, and Ethan was pointing to the woods, having also heard the approaching horses.

Tom sat up from his crouch and Lily slowed in response. Removing his hat, he lifted it up in the air and waved his arm in a broad circle before pointing it at Ethan and Sam. His son didn’t need any further encouragement, and he turned Tango back around and took off with Sam close behind.

Looking over his shoulder, Tom saw that Danny was struggling to catch up with him. While she was a quick learner and took well to riding, running on pavement with a horse that didn’t have a smooth gait wasn’t easy. “Come on!” he called out, although he knew it wasn’t necessary.

As Danny got close, Tom saw movement from the trees behind them. It hadn’t been more than a few minutes since he first heard them, and the other horses were already on top of them. It was an ambush, and he should have seen it coming.

Danny shot past him, her eyes wide with fear as she fought to stay in the saddle. As Tom turned to follow, he saw two horses lunge out onto the road, the men on their backs hooting as dirt and debris was kicked into the road. They were dressed in rags and covered in filth, looking wild and desperate.

“Ha!” one of the men shouted, urging his horse on as two more riders exploded from the other side of the road.

Tom saw that they were gaining on the pack horse, and while losing it would be a huge blow, they’d be okay. It was only a few more days’ ride to Mercy and they could get along without the supplies. Tom reached for the gun strapped to his leg and turned slightly to peer over his shoulder and get a better view. If he could present a harder target than they thought, while leaving the pack horse behind for the easy picking, there was a chance they’d settle for it and let them go.

Drawing the 1911 from the holster, Tom debated on how to use the last bullet. Everything slowed down as his adrenaline surged and his heart raced. The pack horse fell behind him and then Danny appeared on his right as Lily caught up to the slower horse. He avoided looking at her and instead concentrated on the men, who were quickly gaining on them. The one in the lead had a rifle and he was bringing it around to line up a shot at Tom.

Tom reacted first, and his gun roared as the shot struck the rider high on the chest. The rifle retorted a second later, but the man was already falling backward, causing his round to go wide.

The noise was enough to prompt Danny’s horse to go faster as she clung to anything she could find purchase on. Tom willed her to hold on as he watched her struggle, knowing that if she fell, they were doomed. While it would be enough of a distraction to allow Ethan and Sam to get away, he would do everything he could to prevent them from taking Danny. Tom felt for the large hunting knife strapped to his other leg, reassuring himself that it was there.

The sound of the pursuit didn’t lag, and Tom dared another look, certain it would be met with a bullet. The three remaining riders had passed the pack horse, ignoring it to continue the chase. The fourth man was stopped some distance back, slumped over in his saddle, nursing his wound. Tom didn’t see any other rifles and the three bandits that were left appeared intent on simply catching them. Based on the maniacal smiles he could see, it didn’t seem like much of an alternative to being shot.

Just when Tom thought they might be able to put up a decent fight, two more riders appeared on the road ahead of them. Of course, a proper ambush meant cutting off their escape.

He couldn’t tell if the new attackers had guns, but it really didn’t make a difference. “Charge them!” he shouted to Danny, and he could see her nodding in agreement.

When they were still a hundred feet away, seven other horses came careening down the road, causing the two new bandits to turn and look. At first, Tom thought it might have been Ethan and Sam but it was immediately obvious that this was an entirely different group, dressed in leather and all heavily armed.

“What the—” Danny cried out as her horse balked. At the limit of her abilities, Danny was thrown sideways and then fell, grunting in pain as she hit the pavement.

Tom leaped from Lily’s back before she’d come to a stop and stood over Danny, knife in hand. Arms out, he turned first to his left, and then his right, trying to gauge where the first strike would come from.

To his shock, the new band of riders were continuing their charge, straight for the second group of bandits. The three initial attackers turned around, and Tom realized that they were running away from the leather-clad men. It was then that several shots rang out and Tom ducked instinctively, covering his head. It proved to be unnecessary, as the bullets hit the ground harmlessly in the wake of the retreating riders.

The silence following the melee was deafening, and Tom was acutely aware of Danny’s ragged breathing from behind him as he scrutinized one of their apparent rescuers dismount. He was a large man, and walked like someone who was used to being in charge. Tom blindly put a hand out to help Danny to her feet, while watching him approach.

Stopping at a safe distance, the older man narrowed his eyes as he stared at Tom. His face was deeply lined, and he sported a full beard and moustache. His cowboy hat was clean but well-worn, as were his leather chaps and gloves. Tom knew a rancher when he saw one and he was instantly at ease.

Relaxing his stance, Tom re-sheathed the knife he’d still been clasping and then offered his empty hand. “Name’s Thomas Miller, owner of Miller Ranch up in Mercy.”

The lines around his eyes deepened as the man smiled in response. Taking several steps forward, he took Tom’s hand in a firm grip. “Pleasure to meet ya, Mr. Miller. I’m Jesper Duke. Welcome to Graham County.”

Chapter 5

DANNY

Duke Ranch, Grahams Place, Montana

“What exactly did you think you were going to do?” Danny was looking sideways at Tom as they rode through a vast pasture at the Duke Ranch. Jesper Duke was a man of few words. After brief introductions and what passed for small talk, he offered a good meal and information if they cared to follow him and his men back to his farm. Half an hour later, and he still hadn’t spoken to them again.

“How’s your head?” Tom asked, totally ignoring Danny’s question. She knew he would, since there was no logical explanation for him attempting to fight off a hoard of thieves with only one knife.

Deciding to let it go, she poked gingerly at the small cut in the center of a fading goose egg near her hairline—a parting gift from their stay at FEMA Shelter M3. “She wasn’t that tough,” Danny joked, and then saw that Tom was still scrutinizing her. “Really. It hardly hurts. Dad always said I was hardheaded. Guess he was right.”

“How do we know these guys aren’t going to try and steal all of our stuff, too?” Ethan whispered, moving up in between them. He and Sam had turned back as soon as they’d heard the gunfire, so it was a good thing Jesper and his men showed up when they did.

“It would have already happened if that was his intention,” Sam replied, guiding his horse in between Ethan and Danny.

Riding four abroad, Danny appraised all the men to her left and realized what a motley-looking crew they were. The bruises covering Tom and Ethan’s faces were still fading, and the cut above Tom’s eye was swollen and scabbed over. Danny’s fresh wound on her forehead was just as unsightly, and while Sam didn’t sport any obvious injuries, his Hispanic complexion wasn’t enough to hide the pallor from his illness. He was improving every day and Danny was relieved to see him returning to his old, animated self, but he still looked sickly.

In addition to their rough appearance, they were all dressed in the black garb of the FEMA shelter. Danny could only imagine what they must have looked like to the rancher, and she was curious as to why they’d come to their aid without question.

Jesper Duke chose that moment to glance back at them, and Danny caught his eye. “Mr. Duke,” she called out, spurring her horse forward to catch up with the man. “Why did you help us?” Danny gestured to her face first and then tugged at her black T-shirt. “I mean, I’m sure the whole botched black-ops look is enticing, but it’s not the friendliest getup.”

Jesper chuckled and scratched at his beard. “Most of us here in Graham County have pulled together and done right by each other. However, Nelson and his group chose to go it on their own and have resorted to attacking and taking what they want. He’s always been a problem with the law so it wasn’t much of a surprise. When we heard that first shot, we were on our way back from a scouting trip. I figured someone was in trouble.”

“My father has a tendency to act first and ask questions later. Much later,” a man riding to Jesper’s right added. He looked to be around Tom’s age, in his mid-thirties.

The other five men were riding behind them, and Danny guessed it was as much for safety from Nelson’s group as it was to keep a good eye on their group. While Jesper might be a trusting soul, it was clear that his son wasn’t.

“We appreciate your intervention,” Sam said. “We’ve had enough setbacks during our travels.”

They had come within sight of a large ranch house and Danny’s breath caught when she happened to turn to look at it. Though the sprawling estate was impressive, it was the mountains and farmland surrounding it that was extraordinary. Danny was a poor judge of size, but she had to guess hundreds of acres of pasture spread out from it, spotted with clusters of trees and a couple of ponds. Although it wasn’t that late in the afternoon, the mountains to the west were so incredibly tall, that the sun was already dipping down behind the ridgeline. It reminded Danny of the Grand Tetons and she could imagine the raw beauty of it in the winter, when it was covered in snow.

“We don’t have to go over those, do we?” Ethan balked.

Tom reached out and slapped his son on the back. “Not quite, but we do have some mountains to get over before reaching Mercy.”

Jesper Duke turned his horse to face them then, forcing the group to stop. Pushing up on the brim of his hat, he eyed Tom closely. “Your friend was right to question my eagerness to invite you out here to the ranch, Thomas. The truth is that I knew your father. Bought some cattle from him, oh…about seven years back.”

“I thought your name sounded familiar,” Tom answered, offering one of his rare smiles.

Danny watched the exchange with interest. She didn’t pretend to know anything about cattle ranching, but figured it wasn’t unusual for two large spreads in the same state to be familiar with each other.

“I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing,” Jesper said, resting his hands on the saddle horn. “You know, our families did business dating back several generations.”

It wasn’t so much a question, so Tom simply nodded in response.

“In fact, my grandfather’s last official cattle drive was through the Old Miner’s Pass,” Jesper said with a wink.

Tom sat up straight and his smile faded to a look of serious curiosity. “They ran cattle here from our ranch?”

“Yes, sir!” Jesper slapped at his knee, causing Tango to snort and toss his head.

Tom ignored the horse and leaned forward. “How is that possible? I thought that trail put out far north of the interstate.”

Chuckling again, Jesper repositioned his hat and turned his horse back. “Join us for supper and I’ll explain the mystery,” he called over his shoulder, spurring his horse on.

“Why does that matter?” Danny asked, falling in next to Tom. He was still smiling, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“I was planning on using that trail for the last leg of our trip,” Tom explained, his voice eager. “It leads directly to my property and will cut about half a day’s ride from the journey. Mr. Duke is suggesting that there’s another trail near here that connects them.”

Danny nodded in understanding. The sooner they got off the roads, the better. And if it also meant shaving even more time from the trek, they could be home a day sooner than she thought. Her smile matched Tom’s. She’d forgotten how optimism felt.

“Jesper Duke, what have you brought home this time?”

Danny was surprised to see how quickly they had closed in on the house, and saw that a woman had come out to greet them. Though her comment could have been taken as an insult, her tone left no doubt that it was an ongoing joke with her husband. Jesper’s son waved to his mom in passing before leading the other five riders away from the front yard and toward a massive barn in the distance.

Jesper dismounted with ease and removed his hat. “Anna, I’d like for you to meet Thomas Miller, of the Miller ranch up in Mercy. This is his son, Ethan, and their two riding companions, Sam and Danny.”

Anna Duke stood with her hands on her hips and studied each of them in turn. Her long red hair was arranged in a loose braid, and she wore a blue flannel shirt tucked into blue jeans. She was a tall, sturdy woman and how Danny imagined Tom’s mother would look.

Danny didn’t know why she suddenly felt a need to impress Anna, but she did her best to sit straight in the saddle, and couldn’t stop herself from smoothing down some stray hair.

The older woman smiled then and clapped her hands together. “Jesper, you brought me a woman! Glory be.” Shooing at him, she walked straight at Danny. “Now, you get down off that horse and come inside with me while they go put up the horses.”

Danny hesitated and again questioned why she was wavering in the face of something positive. Perhaps it was because she’d been stuck in survival mode for so long that she was having a hard time processing things any other way. While the invitation to go inside a nice home for the first time in two weeks was clearly appealing, a large part of her wanted to say with the men, dirty barn and all.

“It’s okay,” Tom offered. “We’ll come find you.”

Encouraged, and also appreciative of his understanding, Danny slid from the saddle, landing next to Anna. The rancher threw her arms around her in a huge bear hug, and Danny thought Anna would have lifted her off her feet and swung her around if she’d been able. Large as Anna was, Danny was still bigger.

Laughing, Danny returned the embrace, though she suffered a small bout of anxiety when she heard the horses trotting away. Separating, she was met by a pair of the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. They sparkled with a contagious energy and Danny immediately like the woman.

“I’m Danny Latu,” she offered. “It’s really great to meet you, Anna. Your husband literally saved our lives when we were attacked.”

Anna’s smile faded and she took another step back, her hands falling again to her hips. “Nelson?”

“Yeah, that’s what Mr. Duke called him.”

“Oh, you better call him Jesper,” Anna admonished. “Or else that man’s superiority complex will get even worse.”

Danny laughed at the obvious joke. “Okay. Jesper said it was Nelson and his gang. They ambushed us.”

Anna was shaking her head, and already walking back toward the house, expecting Danny to follow. “That man has always been a bad apple. Funny how an event like this brings the boils to the surface.”

Danny cringed at the accurate analogy, rushing to keep up with Anna’s quick steps. She got the impression the older woman always moved like she had a purpose. “Trust me, we’ve encountered several different…infections over the past two weeks.”

The broad porch wrapped around the whole front of the house and Danny could imagine sitting out on the wooden furniture with a cup of coffee, watching the sun rise over the open view to the east. Anna didn’t even pause though, and pulled the double doors open with a flourish. The interior was what Danny would expect of a ranch house: rich wood floors, mahogany trim, large open rooms filled with overstuffed leather furniture, and plenty of windows.

There were oil lamps sitting on several surfaces, as well as a few candles. “I know it may seem like a waste,” Anna said, waving at one of the lit candles. “Ever since the…um, event, I can’t handle being in the dark. Even the shadows of my home during the day. It’s a good thing I make candles, or else I’d have a bit of a problem, now wouldn’t I?”

Danny understood then that the brave, strong facade Anna hid behind had some cracks. Everyone’s did. “If I had candles, I would keep them lit, too,” Danny answered gently.

Anna bobbed her head sharply in response and clapped her hands together again. “Now! When was the last time you used a working toilet or took a bath?”

An hour later, and after several pots of heated water, Danny emerged from Anna Duke’s bathroom feeling more rejuvenated than she had since the whole horrible nightmare had begun. The clawfoot tub was better than any spa she’d been to and although she chose to keep her versatile FEMA duty pants, the fresh T-shirt and underclothes Anna gave her were a welcome change.

Wiping at her damp hair with a towel, Danny made her way down the long back hallway and toward the kitchen, where she could hear several voices engaged in a lively conversation. The smell of something cooking was enough to make her mouth water, and the sense of near-normalcy made her eyes well with emotion. She’d forgotten what it was like to be clean and to feel safe.

Rounding the corner, Danny was greeted by Tom, Ethan, and Jesper sitting at a large kitchen table, a map spread out between them. Sam was standing at the counter with Anna, chopping food to add to a pot of something amazing simmering on top of the woodstove.

Tom looked up and his eyes widened when he saw her, taking in her more formfitting shirt and clean hair. Offering a crooked smile, he gestured to the map. “We waited for you,” he explained, referring back to her comment about his and Sam’s man-time.

Danny grinned. She hated reading maps and was horrible at it. Sitting in the vacant seat next to Tom, she leaning forward eagerly. “So, what’s the quickest way home?”

Chapter 6

GENERAL MONTGOMERY

Infirmary, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

General Montgomery sighed audibly when he saw Walsh appear at the doorway to his room. “I knew you’d find me eventually, but—” he started to raise his wrist to check the time, out of habit, and stopped with it halfway to his face, sighing again. “You got here a couple of hours faster than I thought you would.”

Colonel Walsh scratched at his forehead before pointing at the IV bag hanging by the bed. “You okay?”

A nurse who had just hung the fluids hesitated, looking back and forth between the two men. The general glared at her before barking, “You’re dismissed!”

Scurrying from the room, she glanced nervously at Walsh on her way out. He offered an apologetic smile before moving past her and closing the door. “You know there’s a fully functioning hospital topside that comes with a much better view.”

“This is more than adequate,” the general declared, waving a hand. “I’m fine. Just a little dehydrated. And I prefer to stay where there’s likely to be more…discretion.”

“I found you.”

Montgomery laughed halfheartedly. “But you aren’t the norm, Colonel Walsh.” Pushing himself up further in the bed, he fought a spell of dizziness while leveling the colonel with his steely eyes. By no means would he reveal he was symptomatic, or else he’d never hear the end of it. “I’m assuming there’s a reason you’re looking for me. Do you have an update on the list?”

“Yes, sir,” Walsh confirmed. “I’m handling it personally, like you requested. Out of the sixty-five hundred, I was able to arbitrarily eliminate over four thousand names, based solely on their addresses. There are obvious flaws with this process, of course, but considering the circumstances it’s the best we can do.”

“Understandable,” Montgomery mumbled, eager for the other man to get on with it. He didn’t enjoy holding a meeting while lying in a bed. It made him appear weak and not in control. It simply wasn’t acceptable. Next time…if there was a next time, he’d be sure to visit the infirmary while everyone else was asleep.

“Sir?”

General Montgomery looked up at Walsh with annoyance. “What, Colonel?”

“I asked if you wanted a complete breakdown of the numbers.”

“Oh.” The general fought another wave of wooziness as he tried to concentrate on the question. “Yes. Yes, of course I want the details.”

Colonel Walsh narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “Are you sure you’re okay? Have you been sleeping?”

Walsh knew full well that he hadn’t been sleeping most nights, and Montgomery resented the fact that he pretended otherwise. Insomnia was nothing new for the general. He’d successfully dealt with it before and he would do so again. “Unless there’s been a sudden change in status and you now have doctor in front of your name, let’s stick to what you know best.”

His cheeks flushing, Walsh accepted the reprimand without missing a beat. “It’s been difficult to narrow the list down much further,” he continued, sitting on the only small plastic chair in the room. “Based on our contacts and the reports coming out of the western states, I created what I’m calling the ‘secondary’ list. They are assets that I’ve deemed less likely to still be alive, considering age and location. Such as an eighty-year-old in the middle of Seattle, versus a forty-something in the suburbs of Montana.”

Montgomery was nodding. “Good. What does it leave us with?”

“Just over eleven hundred people,” Walsh answered. Folding his hands in his lap, he leaned forward, his expression grim. “I issued orders last night. It’s going to be slow, and we’ll be lucky if we ever have confirmation on even half of those names, but we do have some initial results.”

Montgomery raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Smiling, Walsh was obviously proud to have surprised the general. “Two hard contacts and three soft. A unit near Las Vegas successfully extracted their asset this morning. It’s going to take a few days, but they’re en route here.”

“And the other?” Montgomery asked.

Walsh sat back, his demeanor changing. “Well, sir, there were some complications. We didn’t foresee an asset refusing to be saved, which is what happened. He’s some sort of high-profile computer programmer in Los Angeles. He was more than content to stay at his mansion in the hills of Hollywood with his family.”

He could feel his face reddening. Montgomery had a hard time when his soldiers were unable to think for themselves. Taking a slow breath, he chose his words carefully. “Colonel Walsh, there seems to be a lack of communication here. These extractions aren’t optional. I expect, when an asset is located alive, they will be brought in. There are to be no discussions or choices given. Are we clear on this?”

“Yes, sir.”

Montgomery always knew when his friend had a problem with orders. However, one of the reasons Walsh had successfully been his assistant for so many years was his ability to keep his opinions to himself and simply say “yes, sir”.

“I’m sending Major Campbell and his 1st Force Recon team out for one of the soft contacts. They’re already on their way and should arrive on site sometime this afternoon,” Walsh continued, correctly anticipating the general’s next question. “She’s in a hot zone near Albuquerque, New Mexico.”

“That’s getting awfully close to the red zone for radiation exposure,” Montgomery pointed out. “How do you know she’s alive?”

“We set up our FEMA command center for New Mexico at the Kirtland AFB in Albuquerque,” Walsh explained. “You’re right, they’ve been hit pretty hard with radiation sickness. However, turns out that with the help of the asset, they were able to successfully treat several occupants at the shelter.”

“Who is it?” Montgomery’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t spent much time poring over the names and only recognized a couple dozen. He didn’t really care why they were deemed important.

“Some astrophysicist,” Walsh said, tapping at his thigh. “Apparently she’s very knowledgeable about gamma-ray bursts. We’re lucky she’s still alive.” He hesitated.

“What?” Montgomery asked. It was apparent the man had something else to say.

“Conditions there have broken down dramatically over the past week,” Walsh said with enough reservation that Montgomery knew he was being conservative in the estimation. “We’ve been unable to reach them with sufficient supplies or personnel to make a difference. The base was overrun two days ago and has been under siege ever since.”

“Sounds like a perfect mission for 1st Force Recon.” The IV drip was about to run dry and the general wanted to end the conversation before the pump alarm brought the nurse back. He briefly considered the irony of his begrudging one of the perks of the EMP-hardened infirmary. “What’s the problem?”

Walsh squirmed in the hard chair. “Vice Admiral Baker. He found out Corporal Dillinger was left in charge of FEMA Shelter M3. With the other reports coming in these past two days about the, um…skirmishes breaking out near the other shelters, he’s kicked up his opposition.”

“Define ‘opposition’,” Montgomery said, his voice dangerous.

“He’s been having meetings,” Walsh admitted, staring down at his hands. “With Major O’Shane and a few of the advisors. He’s also been in contact with some of the remaining civilian state government. Especially those who have been opposed to the martial law declaration and ensuing federal takeover.”

“To what end?” Montgomery pushed. “He can talk to whomever he wants. He doesn’t have the power or influence to do anything about it.”

“He’s made comments that lead me to believe he’s going to use the 1st Force Recon missions as examples of military attacks against civilians,” Walsh said, finally getting to the heart of the matter.

The pump started beeping. The general reached out and yanked the cord from the wall with enough force to send the machine crashing to the ground. As the working end of the IV ripped from his arm, Montgomery slapped his other hand over the site without even looking. Blood oozed from between his fingers as he stared at Walsh, nostrils flaring.

“I want a complete report on the vice admiral’s activities,” he growled.

The door opened and a frightened nurse stuck her head in.

“I’m fine!”

The door closed.

“I want to know who he’s met with, who he’s talking to, and what’s being said,” the general continued.

Walsh stood then, and looked uncertain as to whether he should comment on the blood that was spreading out on the blanket under the general’s arm. Wisely choosing to let it go, he instead moved toward the door. “Yes, sir.”

“Colonel?”

Walsh stopped with his hand on the door and looked back.

“Where is the admiral residing now?”

“He’s still on the top floor of building three,” Walsh answered, looking somewhat confused.

“Has he been outside the mountain since the flashpoint?” Montgomery asked, thoughtful.

Walsh shook his head.

Montgomery wrapped his fingers more tightly around his forearm, effectively cutting off the flow of blood. “Perhaps it’s time for the good admiral to get some fresh air.”

Chapter 7

JAMES

Master Sergeant, US Marines, 1st Force Reconnaissance

Albuquerque, New Mexico

James didn’t like it, but there was no other way. Both the INFIL and EXFIL were going to be messy. The Kirtland Air Force Base was located at the southern end of Albuquerque, and the main buildings were literally surrounded by a heavily populated area. With over half a million residing in the city, it was a large metropolis with no clear path in or out. The only support 1st Force Recon had was the helicopter, and with no other means of transportation, they were forced to go with a direct insert.

Since being subtle was off the board, the obvious infiltration point was the international airport adjacent to the base. It also happened to be close to the military medical center, where Dr. Pamela Watson was last reported to be holed up.

“I thought this chick was an astronomer or something,” Jay shouted over the hum of the Huey. “What’s she doing acting like a doctor?”

James stared at his friend long enough to convey his displeasure with the question. Gunnery Sergeant Jay Terrill was his second and knew they were supposed to keep the details of the assets to a minimum. “It’s not our job to ask questions, Terrill.”

The intel from the limited communication with Cheyenne Mountain was sparse. Most of it was from previous exchanges regarding FEMA Shelter NM1, which was originally erected in the fields at the southern end of the Kirtland Air Force base. Like so many other failed attempts in other states, the personnel had underestimated the threat from the civilian population and was overrun in a matter of days. Already suffering from varying degrees of radiation sickness, the survivors surrendered the shelter and fell back to the clinic and a couple of attached, defendable buildings.

Dr. Pamela Watson had become involved sometime soon after the flashpoint, apparently going to the military base in an attempt to pass on useful information regarding the gamma-ray burst. That was the only reason her name was flagged, and the unconfirmed location deemed a soft contact. The base had gone silent for more than two days.

As the Huey moved within a few klicks of their insertion point, James turned to address his men. “I know we’re not used to operating without a TOC, but we just stick with the plan. Lance and Flores, you keep your heads on a swivel and protect Helo 1 at all costs. She’s our only ride out.”

Though the 1st Force Reconnaissance unit was an elite group of highly trained Marines, they usually had plenty of support, including a Tactical Operations Center. As it was, they were lucky to have one helicopter, and even more fortunate to have comms. The TASC headsets were a parting gift from Corporal Walsh before they’d left the mountain. James didn’t know how or why the tactical radios had been stored at Cheyenne, and he didn’t care. All that mattered was that with the ability to communicate with each other on the ground, they at least stood a better chance of pulling off a successful operation.

“We treat it like any other snatch-and-grab,” Sergeant Lee added as he secured his headgear and comms.

James watched as his team did their weapons and gear checks, then turned his attention back to the darkening landscape. It was spotted with fires and what looked like clusters of people scattered throughout the city. If a night op had been feasible, they would have done it, but it was nearly impossible to navigate over long distances without visual flight. No satellites meant no GPS, whether their instruments had power or not.

“There,” James directed, pointing to the airstrip. A good portion of the airport was burned, but the buildings to the east were intact. Those were the target. “Get us as close as possible.”

The downside to having the medical center next to an airport was that there was no need for them to have a landing pad on their roof, as some other hospitals did. And while they were only a parking lot away, it was an open span where they would all be vulnerable to anyone with a gun. People would already be responding to the incredible and sudden appearance of the helicopter so the clock was ticking.

As the Huey touched down, James launched himself out of the opening and hit the ground moving forward in a crouching run. He knew without looking back that the three other soldiers were behind him.

They hadn’t gone more than a hundred yards when four military personnel came running toward them, likely having the same reaction to the helicopter as everyone else nearby. James slowed but didn’t stop, and raised his M4 to the ready. “Identify yourselves!”

The three men and one woman were in filthy fatigues, and only two of them were armed. “Airman Johnson!” the nearest man shouted, raising his empty hands. “We’re from the Kirtland base. Who are you, special ops? Thank God you’re here.”

“Where’s the rest?” the woman said, stopping and looking over at the helicopter in a daze. “There’s more of you, right?” Her eyes widened as she realized the four soldiers in front of her were the sum of the assumed rescue team.

“Master Sergeant Campbell, 1st Force Reconnaissance,” James barked, not lowering his weapon. “I’m looking for Dr. Pamela Watson.”

“What do you want with Pamela?” the first man asked, looking around nervously. “She’s inside,” he rushed to add, motioning back over his shoulder and toward the clinic. “But we can’t stay out here, man. It’s not safe.”

“Two tangos on my left,” Jay shouted. “Moving fast.”

James pivoted, bringing his Carbine around and quickly lining it up with two men who were skirting around some vehicles a couple hundred feet away. “Alpha Three, give me some suppression fire.”

Sergeant Lee complied with a short burst of automatic fire that sent chunks of cement flying near the advancing men’s feet. As expected, they dove for cover and James felt fairly certain that the show of fire power would be enough to buy them a few extra minutes.

“Dr. Watson,” James repeated, turning back to the wary soldiers. “I need you to take us to her.”

“This way,” Airman Johnson called as he ran back the way they’d come.

“Alpha One to Helo One,” James spoke into his headset.

“Go for Helo One.”

“We have confirmation on the HVT and are moving in for retrieval.” James knew the likelihood of anyone else having the ability to listen in on their conversation was remote, but it was still protocol. And Dr. Pamela Watson was most definitely a Highly Valued Target.

“Helo One copies.”

“Alpha Five to Alpha One.”

“Go for Alpha One.” James tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. He didn’t want to stand around and talk and Flores always had a big mouth.

“We’ve got at least a dozen tangos inbound from the FEMA shelter location.”

James passed up the slower airman and headed for the main entrance of the hospital. They’d have to make it fast. Grunting with dissatisfaction, he keyed up his radio. “Do what you can without any casualties, Alpha Five. Get ready for EXFIL.”

The parking lot was three-quarters full of useless vehicles, some of them burned, as well as several bodies in various stages of decomposition. That they were left to rot spoke of the hopeless situation the people there were facing.

Two more armed soldiers met them at the doors, looking both shocked and hopeful. Airman Johnson waved them off and they looked too weak to put up any resistance.

“She’s upstairs,” the female soldier offered, leading the way toward a stairwell.

She bent to pick up the candle stub left near the door, but Jay stopped her. “We’ve got it,” he offered, snapping on a flashlight.

It was remarkable, the effect a simple light had on the group. A collective gasp was followed by silence, and that was when James was hit by the stench as he opened the door to the stairs. Taking a step back, he raised a hand to his face and resisted the urge to gag.

“What is that?” Sergeant Lucas O’Grady gasped.

They had all experienced the smell of death, the worst of it at the Mount Weather facility. But the smell wafting over them was like nothing James had ever encountered. A mix of decay, feces, urine, and a putridness he couldn’t and didn’t want to identify.

“Welcome to hell,” Airman Johnson said, his voice hollow. “Death by radiation is a slow, messy process. The lucky ones died the first week. The not so lucky? Well, they’re still suffering in their own bloody soup of waste.”

“Shut up!” the woman shouted, pushing the man forward and onto the first of the metal steps. “It’s the worst in here,” she explained, looking back at James as he forced himself to follow, wishing he’d thought to bring their masks. “We didn’t have anywhere else to put the bodies…hundreds of them. So, they’re stacked in the basement, along with all the garbage and waste. It’s not that bad, unless you open a door.”

James’s eyes burned from ammonia as they climbed the stairs and he was relieved when they exited on the third floor, instead of the sixth. They were greeted by a group of people gathered in some sort of lounge area next to the stairwell. James figured it was originally a waiting room. While it was impossible for him to have a picture of the doctor, he knew that she was a fifty-two-year-old African American woman, so could see immediately that she wasn’t part of the crowd.

“Dr. Pamela Watson!” James shouted. His loud, booming voice echoed off the cement walls and several of the people cringed away from him. While a couple were in fatigues, the rest were wearing regular clothes, all of them covered in filth. Dim, flickering light provided from several candles lit the room, and it was enough to reveal the sorry state the survivors were in.

“What’s happened?” a woman called out as she ran down a connecting hallway. “I thought I heard gunshots after the helicopter landed.” She froze when she saw James and the rest of the unit.

“Dr. Pamela Watson?” Lowering his rifle, James did his best to look less intimidating.

Dr. Watson squinted at him, taking in his uniform and equipment. “You have working radios and a helicopter. I’ll be whoever you want me to be.” When he only glared at her in response, she grinned. “You bet I’m Dr. Watson! It’s about time help got here. What’s your plan? We’ve got a hundred and eighteen left alive.”

James could see Jay shifting uneasily from foot to foot, and he could feel time slipping by. He didn’t like to stand still while on an op and they’d already been inside the building for too long.

“Helo One to Alpha One.”

“Go for Alpha One,” James answered, turning away from the doctor.

“We’re getting too hot for extraction. Suppression is no longer working. We’ll need to use lethal force.”

“That’s a hard copy,” James barked, thinking through the options, which weren’t many. “Move to secondary EXFIL.”

“Copy that. Moving to secondary extraction point. Five mikes.”

James spun back to face Dr. Watson before the transmission had even finished. “I’m here to retrieve you, Doctor. We can discuss the others on the way out.”

“Nanna!” a young girl of around five years old broke off from the group in the waiting room and ran to Doctor Watson, wrapping her small arms around her grandmother’s legs. “Are we going home? Can we get some water? I’m still thirsty.”

Pamela reached down and placed a hand on top of the girl’s curly hair while staring at James, her dark eyes welling with tears. She began to shake her head and then slowly pointed a finger at him. “No. I’m not going anywhere until all of us have a ride out of this nightmare.”

James was acutely aware of the two armed soldiers who had followed them upstairs, as well as the growing crowd in the waiting room. More survivors, in various degrees of illness and despair, were slowly making their way towards the commotion from three different darkened hallways. While he trusted his own men and knew they would be restrained in their reactions, their orders were clear and failure wasn’t an option.

Looking back down at the little girl, James made a decision he knew he’d have to live with for the rest of his life. Stepping forward he leaned in close and spoke inches away from the doctor’s face. “We need to have a private conversation.”

A flash of fear crossed her face and her fingers curled into her granddaughter’s hair.

“She can come,” James offered before gesturing towards what looked like an office behind a reception area.

Dr. Watson led the way, and James closed the door behind them, raising his other hand at the same time she started to talk. “Let me be clear. You have two choices. You can either cooperate, and leave with us under the guise that you’re helping us coordinate a rescue, and bring your granddaughter. Otherwise, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and you’ll still leave. Alone.”

“But I—”

“You’ll make your decision by the time I open this door. We’re leaving now. Is there a way to the roof?” Dr. Watson nodded, and James pushed at the door.

Stepping back out into the room, he smiled at the other people. “Dr. Watson has agreed to help us organize your rescue. Airman!” Airman Johnson jerked to attention. “I need you to get ready. Separate those who can and can’t walk. I want these people ready to move by the time I get back. Understood?”

Not waiting for an answer, James motioned to Jay and then glanced at the doctor. She was holding tightly to her granddaughter’s hand and stoically waving to the people who only moments before she thought she’d never leave. It was cruel, but there was no other way. The Huey could only hold a few more passengers and the clinic was about to be overrun.

They re-entered the stairwell and headed for the roof. Two minutes later they burst onto the top of the six-story building, where Helo One was waiting, hovering, a SPIE rope deployed below it. Already forming a plan on how to raise both the doctor and young girl to safety, James noticed movement below them in the parking lot.

The group advancing from what remained of the FEMA shelter had reached the clinic. Distracted by the recon team and outnumbered, the guards at the doors were easily overtaken. They were shooting randomly into the growing mob, but James knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

Jay easily lifted the little girl while James reached for Dr. Watson, but she grabbed ahold of him first as her legs buckled. Sobbing, her eyes burned with a fury and pain he’d never seen before. “You’ve killed them all,” she spat.

James grit his teeth and wrapped her up in his massive arms. “They were already dead.”

Chapter 8

ETHAN

Duke Ranch, Grahams Place, Montana

The fire snapped as sap exploded and sent a cascade of sparks up into the sky. Ethan stared into it, finding it both mesmerizing and relaxing. He’d spent hours that way when he’d been held captive by Decker and Billy. It was the only time with them when he wasn’t scared.

“Hey.”

Ethan jumped, and then smiled up at Sam as the older man eased himself down to the ground next to him. It might have been wishful thinking, but Ethan thought Sam looked better than he had just that morning. Cutting their travel for the day in half and having a good meal probably had a lot to do with it.

“Mind if I join you?” Sam leaned back against the log Ethan was using and then reached out to pet Grace, who was laying curled up at Ethan’s feet and halfway across his lap.

Ethan shrugged. “Sure, Sam. I’m just getting warmed up before bed. Looks like it might be a wet night.”

Sam looked up at the sky that had turned dark and ominous soon after dinner. Ethan was glad the northern lights were finally blocked from view, but the idea of a storm wasn’t too appealing. While they would be sleeping in a dry bunkhouse that night, it could still mean a messy ride the next day.

An odd flash of orange light briefly lit the mountains to their southwest, and the air remained eerily silent and heavy. Ethan turned to get a better look at where the storm was building, but it was too dark to really make out much. Another burst of color caused the bottom of the clouds to glow, this time with more of a whitish-blue tinge. He’d seen plenty of storms, growing up in Montana, and this one was making the hair on the back of his neck rise.

“It appears that we’re in for some more changes,” Jesper Duke said from across the fire. He sat on a large stump, one booted ankle crossed over the other. Danny and his dad sat next to Jesper, and Anna moved forward with a large piece of wood to toss on the fire, nodding at her husband in agreement.

It was obvious to Ethan that there were a lot of nights spent talking around the fire. It was positioned centrally between the main house, barn, and bunk house. Jesper’s son, as well as the five farmhands who came to their rescue earlier that day, were spread around the campfire talking animatedly amongst themselves.

“There’s a good chance the weather is going to get worse,” Sam offered, drawing everyone’s attention. He shifted slightly as he gathered his thoughts and Ethan absently rubbed at Grace’s ears while he listened. “The gamma-ray burst must have destroyed a large percentage of the ozone layer, as well as disrupted the chemical compounds in the upper atmosphere. This could have a cascading effect on the weather systems, including the jet stream.”

“Are we talking Tornado Alley moving over a couple of states, or hurricanes in the desert sort of stuff?” Anna Jesper asked, sounding more annoyed than scared.

Sam tossed a stick at the fire and made a tsking noise. “Impossible to say, really, but I’d think at the minimum, there’s a potential for storms larger than anything experienced in recent history.”

“And the temperature?” One of the cowhands asked, pulling his jacket closed. “It shouldn’t be this cold at night. Not in June.”

“The temperature, weather, plant die-off, and maybe even a form of acid rain,” Sam confirmed. “The fallout could go on for years.”

“Plant die-off,” Jesper echoed. He sounded troubled but Ethan was having a hard time reading the older man’s expression in the firelight. “We’ve been noticing the pines in the higher elevations have been dropping their needles early, and the tops are turning brown.”

“Is that from the gamma radiation?” Jesper’s son asked.

“No.” Ethan was surprised to hear his dad answer the question. “It’s from the ultraviolet radiation.”

“Right, Tom,” Sam confirmed. “The ozone acts as a buffer for several different elements, including the sun’s radiation.”

“Then why in the world is it getting colder?” another one of the hands pressed.

“Higher UV doesn’t necessarily mean more heat,” Sam tried to explain. “And in addition to the ozone layer damage, the chemical changes are contributing to the temperature fluctuations. Look, I’m not going to try and pretend like I have all of the answers, because I don’t. It’s all speculation on my part.”

Another eerie strobe of orange and then blue punctuated his words, and Ethan wished they’d change the subject. It would be great if they could pretend that things were normal. Just for a little while.

Anna stood back up then and slapped at her thighs. “Come on, Danny.”

Danny looked surprised, and didn’t move from where she was on the stump, next to Tom. “Where are we going?”

Anna waved a hand in the general direction of the bunkhouse. “While I’m sure these men find the bunkhouse to be more than adequate, it’s no place for a lady. My daughter is gone with a hunting party so you’re more than welcome to her room.”

Ethan was confused by Danny’s reaction, as she sat there looking back and forth between their host, Sam, and Tom. If he’d been the one offered a private room with a big bed, he would have already been halfway across the yard.

The older woman, on the other hand, took it all in stride. “Don’t worry about your friends, we’ll be seeing them bright and early. Come on,” she took Danny by the hand and pulled her to her feet. “The invitation also includes a cup of tea and a good, womanly conversation.”

Danny finally smiled and laughed lightly. “Okay, Anna. How can I pass that up?” Breaking away from the other woman, Danny walked over and knelt down in front of Sam. “You doing all right?” When he nodded, she gave Sam a quick hug. “Be sure to take your last dose of antibiotics before you go to bed.”

Sam gave her a mock salute in response, and she batted his hand away playfully. “Be sure he takes it.” She added to Ethan while reaching out to give his arm a squeeze. He understood then why she was hesitant to go. They’d relied upon each other so much over the past ten days that it didn’t feel right when they were separated. It was the worst part about being at the FEMA camp.

Ethan watched as Danny waved goodnight to Jesper and then hesitated in front of his dad. He wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except for the way Tom looked at her. He started to lift his arms, but then seemed to catch himself and hesitated when Danny took a step back. His smile wavered as she continued past him to follow Anna.

Closing his eyes, Ethan moaned and leaned his head back against the log.

“What is it?” Sam asked.

Turning his head, Ethan rolled his eyes at Sam. “I don’t know if I’ll ever understand women.”

Sam laughed and elbowed Ethan lightly in the ribs. “That is a pipedream of every man who’s ever lived. Give it up now and save yourself a whole lot of grief.”

Watching Danny walk away, Ethan’s smile faded. He liked her. She was like an older sister or aunt, and he didn’t want anything to interfere with the easy friendship they’d developed. His dad had a bad track record when it came to relationships and Ethan didn’t want him to do anything that would keep Danny away once they reached Mercy. It would have been better if she’d kept despising Tom. Ethan wasn’t even sure when or why that had changed.

Danny paused then and turned back, whistling once for Grace. The retriever’s head snapped up and she leapt to her feet when she saw Danny. Grace offered a small whine as she licked Ethan’s hand and he patted the back of her neck. “Go on,” he said gently. “I understand.”

As the dog trotted after Danny, the unease Ethan had been feeling intensified. Once they got home, if Danny went her own way that meant he wouldn’t see Grace either…or Sam. Looking again at the older man, Ethan felt a surge of desperation. Since the flashpoint, he’d had to come to terms with the likelihood that he’d never see his mom again, or his home, or friends. His life before was gone. Now, Sam and Danny were an important part of his world and he wasn’t sure what he would do if they disappeared from it. He looked back in time to see Grace’s tail disappear inside the house and he nearly choked on a sob that threatened to tear loose.

“Sam?” Ethan stammered as another blue bolt of lightning lit the sky. “What’s going to happen when we get to Mercy?”

Sam looked nonplussed. “You’ll be reunited with your grandmother, and Danny with her dad. What else would happen, Ethan?”

Ethan huffed with frustration and repositioned himself so he was facing Sam. “No, I mean what are we all going to do? Where are you going to stay, Sam? Is Danny gonna go back to Helena once she checks on her dad? I might never see Grace again. You might leave—”

“Hey—” Sam interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder at the same time. “I’m not going to lie and pretend I know how this is all going to play out. But the one thing I’m sure about is that I’m going to always be your friend. We’re family now, Ethan, and we’re in this together. Through all of it, and that doesn’t end just because we get to Mercy. Besides, your dad said there’s an extra room at the ranch and I’ve always wanted to be a cowboy.”

Relieved, Ethan smiled back at his friend and then focused again on the fire, afraid that he was going to get emotional. Through the flames, he saw his dad watching him, a look of concern on his hardened face. The sky strobed orange and then blue, casting their group into a melee of bizarre shadows and momentarily changing his father into an unrecognizable form.

Blinking rapidly, Ethan pushed at the ground with his feet, forcing his back painfully into the log behind him as he was plunged into a memory of the horrific night in Pocatello. As the light faded, so did the vision, leaving Ethan gasping for air. It was a vivid reminder that nothing was what it seemed anymore. Even in Mercy, he would never truly be home again.

Chapter 9

CHLOE

City Center, Mercy, Montana

Chloe had never liked crowds. She found it hard enough to pretend to be interested in regular conversations, and when you stuck a bunch of people together in the same space, all talking at once, it was enough to make her want to scream.

Sitting at the picnic table across from Sandy and Bishop, the hardest part for Chloe wasn’t so much the noise as it was the fact that everyone was trying so hard to act like everything was okay. Except it wasn’t. It never would be.

“Aren’t you going to finish your steak?” Trevor asked while lightly elbowing Chloe in the ribs.

Snatching the plate away, she slid it out of his reach. “Don’t you even think about it. I actually worked for this meal and I want to take my time enjoying it.”

Trevor’s face scrunched up as he grasped the not-so-subtle criticism. “Hey, I worked all day at the clinic, and then I spent the past four hours delivering water and meals to people who couldn’t come to the barbeque.”

“Never mind Miss Killjoy,” Crissy said flippantly. “She’s been grouchy all day.”

As was often the case, Chloe fought to keep from answering Crissy with an even snarkier remark. As much as the younger girl drove her crazy at times, she was the best friend Chloe ever had and was one of the few people in her life who could keep her in check. Besides, Crissy was right. She’d been looking for a fight all afternoon.

“I wanted to thank you personally, Sandy.”

Chloe was saved from herself by Patty’s well-timed interruption. The mayor was standing at the end of the picnic table, holding an honest-to-God apple pie. The night before, Sandy had been talking about how Caleb converted their woodstove into a working oven and stovetop. Sandy was pestering Bishop to come up with something similar for the ranch, and looking at the pie, Chloe decided to start working on her own design.

“I used your favorite apples,” Patty continued when nobody spoke. Setting the pie on the table, she looked pointedly at Sandy. “That steer is more than just a meal for the whole town, it’s a symbol of hope. A sign that together, we’re going to get through this.”

Chloe had been busy helping prepare the last of the food earlier, so she missed the speech the mayor gave to the people gathered in the city center. She had a feeling those two lines were straight from it, making them feel somewhat hollow.

“Thanks, Patty,” Sandy answered with a smile. “We all want the same thing. Let’s just work together to make sure we do it all the right way.”

Patty glanced over her shoulder and then looked nervously at the nearest tables. Without saying anything further, she turned back to Sandy with a dejected expression and gave a small nod before moving on.

To be fair, Chloe didn’t envy Mayor Patty’s situation. There really wasn’t any way to win, and no matter what she did, there would be some people who disagreed with her methods. From the time Chloe had spent with her, she knew Patty was kind and was honestly doing her best under the circumstances.

The circumstances.

Chloe grunted at the thought while stabbing a chunk of meat. Placing the morsel in her mouth, she thought about what Patty said. Was it a symbol of hope? Had their lives been so thoroughly stripped away in two weeks that it all came down to a dead cow giving them inspiration?

Chloe chewed slowly, mulling over the meaning of that. She’d been afraid she wouldn’t even be able to stomach the meat, after helping lead the steer to the spot near the creek where he was met by a bullet to the head. She had then watched, with a sort of morbid curiosity, as a group of men and women butchered it right there, stripping away the layers and dismembering it.

Like their lives.

Closing her eyes, Chloe sighed and dug deep to find a remnant of joy to grasp onto. While she’d willingly thrown herself into the busy work of survival, the distraction was wearing off. She missed her parents. She missed her room, with its obnoxious purple glitter rug and pictures of the universe taped to the walls. She missed her early morning jogs. Chloe missed her life.

Several people laughed at an unheard comment at the next table over, causing Chloe to open her eyes and take in the reality of where she was: the city center in Mercy, Montana. Their second weekly town barbeque, complete with a stage for entertainment, which consisted of a guitar-wielding cowboy singing ballads, a row of smoking BBQs, and enough picnic tables to seat half of the town’s population.

The rest that could attend had to find random seating that spilled out onto Main Street. She half expected to see a clown emerge with a bundle of balloons, but that would just be weird.

The prep time for the meat had taken longer than expected, so the festivities had gotten off to a late start. Jerry-rigged oil lamps hung from hooks on the steel lamp poles, hooks that Chloe suspected were normally used for hanging flower baskets. They were surprisingly efficient and afforded a decent amount of soft light in both the picnic area as well as on Main Street.

When combined with the old-fashioned western storefronts that adorned most of the buildings on Main Street, it was as if they’d been transported back through time. Horses were tied to the original hitching posts in front of City Hall and the post office. The wagon was constantly rattling up and down the roads, hauling either water or food, or sometimes both. With the water station at the south end of town and the farmer’s market at the other, the borders of Mercy were smaller than ever. People waved at each other as they passed on the street and they all had the same, makeup-less, raw uninhibited look to them.

They were moving on. That was what bothered Chloe. No matter how much sense it did or didn’t make, she was furious that while the rest of the world fell to pieces, the people of Mercy were simply…living.

“Sandy told me you’re going to start jogging the Miner trail,” Bishop said, interrupting her dark thoughts.

Chloe blinked a couple of times at Bishop, her eyes narrowing. Her initial reaction was irritation that the two of them had been talking about her, and that only caused her anxiety to grow. She could feel herself slipping back into the angry, sometimes violent girl who had landed her in the Trek Thru Trouble club, and she was determined to overcome it.

Her problem was that she wasn’t sure how. Actually, that was the whole reason behind the jogging. At home, when Chloe was feeling overwhelmed and her emotions were unchecked, she ran. The physical exercise helped to ground her and she currently needed a whole lot of grounding.

Forcing a smile, she swallowed a bit of mashed potatoes. “Yeah, Sandy said it goes for over a hundred miles, so I figure I won’t run out of trail.”

Bishop grinned at her joke and then began to cut up the apple pie. “When do you plan on going? Maybe I or Crissy could join you. Being out there alone might not be the best thing right now.”

Her smile fading, Chloe lost her tenuous hold on restraint. “Being alone is the whole point, Bishop. I don’t need a babysitter. Do you know if Caleb managed to get a hold of anyone in Washington State yet about a survivor list?” she asked, pointedly changing the subject.

“I haven’t had much time to sit at the radio with him.” Bishop said, shaking his head. Sliding a piece of pie onto Chloe’s plate without asking, he then stared at her with his intense blue eyes. “We’ll get word to your parents. If we can’t find them, I’ll take you home next year myself. I promise.”

Chloe knew he meant it. Her view of the apple pie blurring, she didn’t trust herself to say much. “Okay,” she murmured, knowing he would understand and not push for something more.

A new chorus of exclamations and loud chatter arose near the entrance to the courtyard. Chloe strained to see what the commotion was about, half-expecting the clown, after all. Instead, she saw a middle-aged, handsome stranger. He was led by Patty, and Father White was trailing behind him, not looking too pleased. Chloe guessed he was just released from quarantine. She’d heard very little about him, except that he saved one of the Pony Express riders, and traveled nearly five-hundred miles to keep a promise to a dying man.

“That’s the new priest who made it here all the way from Wyoming,” Sandy said, her excitement obvious. “He came a different way than Tom and Ethan would,” she added, “but if he was able to get here on a bike, then I have no doubt my son will make it.”

Chloe didn’t point out the fact that the other man traveling with the priest had been killed along the way. It was still hard to comprehend the sort of violence and destruction happening outside their valley, but as more reports from riders and visitors correlated with what Caleb got from the radio, there was no denying it.

“I certainly hope Tom gets here soon. Maybe he can talk some sense into Patty and shed some light on what’s really going on with our government,” Gary said. The councilman sat down at the table on the other side of Bishop, directly across from Chloe.

She noticed the man’s graying hair was still well groomed and that he was clean shaved. Most of the men were allowing their beards to grow out, since they were forced to otherwise use regular razors. It was an aspect of being without power that Chloe had never considered until she’d noticed Bishop’s stubble was coming in gray and she’d teased him about it. Clean underwear was another. She had always thought doing laundry the old-fashioned way would be hard because of having to hang it up to dry. Turned out that was the unexpectedly pleasant part, because she loved the way her clothes smelled after drying in a fresh breeze. However, hauling water, boiling it, and then washing the laundry by hand really, really sucked.

She wasn’t sure why the observation of Gary the councilman troubled her. Perhaps it was also the tie he wore with the blue dress shirt, and the strong cologne that was burning Chloe’s nose. It felt…disrespectful. Like his proper appearance was a mockery of their current existence.

Sandy sighed heavily and leaned forward so she could see around Bishop. “Politics, Gary? We’re really going to talk about politics right now?”

Gary’s countenance shifted and his lip twitched. “Certainly, you of all people must see what’s happening.”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Sandy said, her back stiffening.

Gesturing to the steak left on Chloe’s plate, Gary wrinkled his nose at it. “You know this is only the beginning. Tell me, were you given a choice? Or did Patty and one of her supporters tell you it was time to, um…donate your stock? The question you need to ask yourself is if that conversation would have played out any differently had Tom been there.”

Sandy bristled, but she didn’t try and deny it.

“Anyway,” Gary said, waving a hand dismissively while standing slowly. “None of it might be necessary if Patty hadn’t unilaterally decided to cut us off from our own government.”

Bishop frowned at the councilman. “What do you mean by that?”

Bishop’s voice was harsh and it had the desired effect on Gary, as he flinched and took a small step back. “You two are such good friends with the good mayor, you should ask her yourselves.”

Chloe watched Gary scurry away, and she had a strong feeling he was very much the weasel he appeared to be. However, he’d successfully planted seeds of doubt. She could see it plainly on everyone’s faces, including her own. A Fourth-of-July-themed balloon drifted across the grass and Chloe watched as it passed in front of where Patty and the new priest stood, laughing with Sheriff Waters.

Was Mercy not the oasis it seemed to be?

Chapter 10

TOM

Miner’s Trailhead, near Red Bluff, Montana

Tom had to admit to some relief when Jesper Duke finally raised a hand, signaling for the group to stop. They’d been riding hard for the past two hours, since before sunrise. Tom knew that if he was getting sore, Danny and Sam must be miserable.

Ethan, on the other hand, was apparently as resilient as Tango. The two galloped past them after they had stopped and the teen fought momentarily to turn the gelding around. “Are we at the trail already?” he gasped, his breath showing in the cool morning air.

Jesper dismounted while chuckling at Ethan’s enthusiasm. “Close enough, son. Before I see you off, I want to show your father something.” Looking at Tom, he handed his reins over to his son before gesturing up the road. “On foot from here so we don’t make too much noise. Just a mile or so.”

Curious, Tom followed suit and jumped down next to the older man, his legs protesting when they hit the ground. “What is it I need to see?”

“Road block,” Jesper explained, setting his gloved hands on his hips. “Old man Patterson lives near here and said it showed up…oh, I figure about four days ago now. Armed men with an attitude.”

Tom rubbed at this head, careful not to unsettle the scab above his eye. “Sounds similar to what they’ve got at the FEMA shelter we came from.”

Jesper grunted. “That’s what I was thinking, but I was hoping you’d take a look before heading out. After hearing your story, I don’t know what would be worse, militia, road bandits, or our own government.”

Danny slid off her mare and massaged the backs of her thighs with a pained expression. “I’d like to go.”

“Suit yourself,” Jesper shrugged, already walking. “We’ll make it fast. I know you’d like to get underway before that storm hits about as much as I’d like to make it back home.”

Tom squinted up at the ominous clouds that had continued to build for over twelve hours. Just as Sam had predicted, it was like nothing they’d ever seen before. The front wall of the storm appeared to be growing thicker and taller, instead of moving forward, and the resulting wedge reminded him of a massive wave about to crest. It very well could be an accurate analogy, and Jesper was absolutely right. He really didn’t want them to be stuck riding in it, especially not on a mountain trail he wasn’t familiar with.

Danny was already following Jesper, but she paused when she realized Sam and Ethan weren’t with them. Raising her eyebrows, she looked up at Sam, who was very slowly climbing down from his horse. “You coming?”

Moaning when his feet made contact with the dirt on the side of the road, Sam stood motionless with a hand pressed into the small of his back. “You know, I think I’m going to pass and spend this time sitting my butt on the ground once I can move it again.”

Danny laughed, and Tom found himself staring at her. She really was quite attractive when she smiled. “Okay, Sam,” she said lightly. “You sit here and nurse your backside.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Ethan offered. He was still on Tango and gave a sideways glance to the three other men that had ridden out with them from the ranch. Tom realized in that moment that Ethan was being protective. Even if it was unfounded, it was still a rather mature gesture and made Tom look at his son in a different way.

Grace began licking at Sam’s face as soon as he lowered himself enough, and he lovingly pushed her back. Draping an arm around the dog’s shoulders, he waved Tom and Danny off. “Go on. I’ll last longer if I get a break now.”

Tom answered with a simple bob of his head and then he jogged to catch up to Jesper, who was already a good distance up the road. While Sam improved a little each day, he was probably right to take it easy. Based on how Danny fretted over him, Tom guessed Sam was still susceptible to a lung infection. They were so close to home, and it wasn’t worth taking any extra risks. Looking again at the tempest looming over them, he wondered if they should have taken Jesper and Anna up on their offer to stay another day.

They had all discussed it, and in the end, both Danny and Sam agreed with Tom. Since they had no idea if they’d get caught in the storm, or how long it would last if they did, it wasn’t worth the delay. Tom and Ethan had faced even more setbacks than Danny and Sam, and they were all eager to reach Mercy.

“I hope you’ll consider what I told you last night,” Tom said as he moved up alongside Jesper. “Corporal Dillinger is a dangerous man. He’s only eighty miles or so away from your ranch, and I wouldn’t be surprised if his men showed up there.”

“That land has been in my family for more than a hundred and fifty years,” Jesper said, his voice gruff and resolute.

“If Dillinger decides he wants your cattle, he isn’t going to take no for an answer,” Danny added, having joined them in time to hear the conversation.

Jesper shook his head, his face cross. “The Dukes have given their lives for the freedom of this country for three generations. Freedom I’m not about to so easily surrender for my son and grandkids.”

“If his men do come,” Tom urged. “Try to negotiate with them. They might listen to reason, but not defiance.”

Jesper scratched thoughtfully at the scruff on his jaw as they continued to walk. The morning fog hadn’t yet burned all the way off of the thick woods lining the road, making it feel as if they were walking through a misty, magical land full of dragons. When he stopped suddenly and put a hand up, Tom half-expected something surreal to come charging out of the trees.

“Is that a helicopter?” Danny asked, her eyes widening in fear.

Tom heard it then, too. The low whoop whoop of the blades cutting through the air. He looked to the sky but all he could see were clouds.

“This way,” Jesper ordered, and led them into the trees to the right side of the road. “The barricade is right around this next bend.”

Sure enough, they’d hardly trekked more than fifty feet through the dense underbrush before Tom could hear a distinct conversation between three men in the distance. They were arguing about what was the best MRE, and who was going to go fishing later that day.

Danny and Tom exchanged a look, and he knew before he even saw the uniforms that it had to be the military.

“FEMA,” Danny whispered. She crouched down and peeked out from behind a rock. Jesper gave her a questioning look. “The sign!” she insisted. “They have a FEMA sign on the barricade.”

Tom moved up next to her to get a better look, and sure enough, there was a large white sign with black lettering, just like the one at FEMA Shelter M3.

“Patterson didn’t say anything about a sign,” Jesper grumbled. “It must be new.”

Tom stood and offered Danny a hand. Pulling her easily to her feet, he then raised a finger to his mouth before carefully backing away. The last thing they needed was another all-inclusive stay with the US military.

Before they made it back to where they’d left the road, the helicopter they’d heard approaching for the past several minutes finally swooped down into view, flying low over the roadblock. Dropping to his knees, Tom watched as it continued up the road before veering sharply to the left, toward the churning clouds.

“Do you think they saw us?” Danny gasped, watching the helicopter closely as it moved away.

Jesper was up and walking so fast, that he was nearly running when his feet hit the pavement of the road. “Not us,” he huffed, looking back over his shoulder. “But I’d be willing to wager they saw our eight horses gathered just up the road.”

“You don’t need to go any further with us,” Tom said as the three of them fell into a steady gait. “The map you drew of the Miner’s Trail is detailed enough. It should be easy for me to find where it meets up with US Route 12.”

“It doesn’t get used much,” Jesper answered, not trying to talk Tom out of starting on the trail without him. “But after more than a century of running cattle on that track, the Earth pretty much gave up her fight to reclaim it.”

Tom knew exactly what the rancher meant. He’d been on enough of these types of trails that he was confident in his ability to stay on it. It stirred a poignant memory of the nights he spent under the stars with his dad, on the other end of the same trail. He was raised in the mountains surrounding Mercy, and that included countless rides. He might not have participated in an actual cattle drive, but he’d heard the stories while out on hunting trips, or when exploring and learning to live off the land.

Tom paused for a moment as they drew near the horses and fought to control his emotions. He didn’t know if it was yet another side effect of the concussion, or maybe he was simply starting to lose it, but he had a sudden, overwhelming sense of loss.

“Tom?”

He was surprised by the hand on his arm, and turned to find Danny studying him, a worried look on her face. A face full of fading bruises and cuts, some of which he had put there himself.

“Are you okay? Is it another headache?” Danny’s grip on his arm tightened and Tom resisted the urge to place his own over top of it. Instead, he pulled away and offered a forced smile.

“I will be,” Tom said, deciding to be honest. Looking at Sam and Ethan, who were busy saying goodbye to Jesper and his men, the crease between his brows deepened. Danny was still watching him and so Tom met her gaze, holding it for a moment in what was perhaps the most open exchange they’d shared yet. “First, I have to get home.”

Chapter 11

PATTY

Farmer’s Market, Mercy, Montana

Patty sat her basket of apples down with a loud huff. Straightening slowly, she rubbed at a sore shoulder while taking in the latest changes at the market. The sound of hammers working on the final touches for the covered stands was a melody she found comforting. There were ten spaces, in two rows, one down either side of the road. It left a large aisle in the middle big enough for horses and the carriage to pass through.

“Good morning, Mayor!” a woman called out as she walked by, a baby on one hip and a bag of potatoes on the other.

Patty waved in response, trying to remember the girl’s name and failing. She’d always been horrible at recalling names and had tried to use it as an excuse to get out of the last election, claiming she could never pass as a politician because of it.

Although it was still early, there were at least a couple dozen people at the market. Children as well as chickens ran around under foot, and Patty was pretty sure she might have heard a pig. She would need to speak with Sandy about getting some pens set up in addition to the fruit stands. The bartering system was a huge success and seemed to be quite popular with everyone she’d spoken to. There had been some fear that it would lead to arguments in regard to what was a fair trade, but so far, the people of Mercy were able to successfully negotiate with little intervention from law enforcement.

The police. Patty sighed. It was another one of the many items on her to-do list for the day. She had a meeting with Sheriff Waters that afternoon to discuss his ongoing shortage. With the increase in guards stationed at both ends of town, it left only two officers available at any given time, even with the volunteers. While the crime rate in Mercy wasn’t a concern, just like before the flashpoint, law enforcement handled much more than straightforward criminal activity. With over six hundred residents, there were frequent domestic disputes, fights, drunken brawls, and random citizen complaints. Even a dog attack occurred the night before that left one man with a nasty bite, a dead dog, and an owner that wanted revenge.

While Patty went about adding her apples to the fruit stand, she frowned as she thought about the irony of it all. Here they were, in the middle of what was most likely the end of the world as they knew it, and she was going to spend her afternoon trying to figure out how to settle personality conflicts and neighbor disagreements. “Life must go on,” she muttered, taking a bite out of an especially sweet-looking Honeycrisp.

“You look like you could use a drink,” a familiar voice called out from close by, and Patty paused before taking a second mouthful of apple.

Turning, she confirmed that a man named Alan was leaning in the open door of his bar, The Last Stop. She frowned. He was holding what looked suspiciously like a glass of beer. He stepped aside as two men walked past him to go inside, despite the early hour.

“You’re open for business?” Patty asked, moving closer so they didn’t have to shout at each other.

“I was never really closed,” Alan confirmed, raising the glass toward her. “Figuring out how to finish my last batch of beer didn’t take much. The still was a little trickier, but I got some recruits to help with that. Took ten days to get my first brew out.”

“Moonshine?” Patty asked, not really wanting to know the answer. “I think I’ll pass.” Mentally adding the topic to her list of interesting things to discuss with the sheriff, she broke off the conversation before she said something that would upset Alan. He was a long-standing friend of Caleb’s, and she knew he was a good guy. It just bothered her that able-bodied people were working on concocting alcohol when there was so much else that needed to be done.

Smiling absently at people as she walked back through the market, Patty focused instead on their accomplishments. In spite of what Gary would have everyone believe, they’d come a very long way in only fifteen days. As she approached City Hall, the aromatic smoke rising from the central park area helped bolster that sentiment.

Entering the city center, Patty scanned the crowd and easily picked out her husband. He was hauling a stack of wood, and was already sweating through his work clothes. He’d been busy smoking the rest of the steer and his team had been at it all night. Without any way to refrigerate the beef, they had to move fast. Managing the large smoker while keeping it at a steady hundred and sixty-five degrees wasn’t easy.

“How’s it going?” Patty asked when she caught Caleb’s eye.

Dropping the wood on the ground next to the smoker, he flashed a huge smile at her. Pulling a piece of leathery meat from the front pocket of his shirt, he offered it to her. “Try some for yourself and let me know what you think.”

What was it with men offering her questionable products that morning? Hesitating only briefly, Patty accepted the small rubbery piece of jerky. After the first bite, she began nodding her head and happily ate the rest. “It’s amazing, Caleb. How much do you think we’ll end up with?”

His smile fading, Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. “Not enough to get through the winter. Even if we were to manage to keep this pace up in the coming weeks, we’re going to have to start working on other methods to store different types of food.”

Patty had already guessed what the answer would be. Without a way to stockpile perishables, they were severely restricted in what they could save. While they had several sources of fresh eggs and cows’ milk, it simply wasn’t enough for the whole town. In time, if done properly, they could increase their herds and expand the gardens. The problem was that they didn’t have time, and there was no way to call a time-out. Though it was barely the month of July, Patty was already dreading the winter. She had a feeling they’d all be a lot leaner come next spring.

Patty shivered at the thought, and then realized that it was also due to a cold breeze that had suddenly kicked up. She searched for the source of the shift and wasn’t surprised by the brewing clouds to the south of the valley. The weather was another concern. It was already unseasonably cooler, especially at night. And it wasn’t the first time that a storm had been visible on the horizon, though so far, it had either headed to the west or dissipated.

“Feels like this one might decide to come for a visit,” Caleb said, looking up at the sky with concern. “That’ll make running this smoker all the harder. I’d better go get some more wood cut and stacked where it’ll stay dry, just in case.”

Patty was going to try and steal a kiss from her husband before he could get away, but she was interrupted by the sound of a horse running into the center at full speed. Alarmed, Patty sought out the source, knowing instinctively that it wouldn’t be something good.

“Patty!” It was Melissa shouting her name, and the doctor sounded frantic.

Her stomach turning cold with fear that the deadly infection must have returned, Patty pushed past Caleb and ran to where Melissa was still sitting on her horse. Her hair was loose and wild-looking and her face was ashen.

“What’s happened?” Patty shouted, looking behind Melissa to see if anyone was with her, but she appeared to be alone.

“There’s been an accident,” Melissa barked, already turning her horse around. “I’m on my way there. It’s the wagon. It rolled on the way down the hill from the spring. It’s bad, Patty. We need some men and horses to help lift things, and…”

Though Patty felt some relief that it wasn’t cholera, the loss of the wagon would be a devastating blow. Hopefully, they’d be able to salvage it. She realized Melissa was still staring at her, looking dazed. “Melissa, what is it?” she pressed.

“I was told that there are four people injured, and two of them are already dead. Crushed under the water tank.”

Patty closed her eyes briefly and then began to move to where her horse was tethered. Caleb was already ahead of her, and calling out to some other men to follow them. They’d deal with it. The same way they’d faced and overcome every other setback along the way. It was why the people of Mercy would thrive where others floundered. Gritting her teeth, Patty walked faster, resolute in her determination.

“Patty!” Melissa shouted again.

Not understanding why her friend insisted on talking more when they clearly needed to hurry, Patty looked back with some irritation. “What?”

Melissa’s eyes were filling with tears. “I’m going to need your help more than ever, because Trevor was on the wagon.”

Chapter 12

RUSSELL

Mercy Parish, Mercy, Montana

Russell sat at the back of the church with his head bowed in supposed prayer. He’d been holding the painful position for nearly an hour while Father White went through his rituals, in preparation for the evening mass.

Russell was raised Catholic, so he’d had no problem determining which religion Father White practiced, based only on his vestments. It played perfectly into his plans. While attending his theology courses, he wrote a paper on the Episcopalian faith, which included how one could become a priest. As a result, Russell knew not only what was expected from an Episcopalian priest, but also what schools existed and where they were located, as well as the length it took to achieve the position. By claiming that particular faith, he hoped to circumvent any pointed questions that might call his bluff.

So far, there hadn’t been an inquisition. In fact, Father White was going out of his way to avoid him. Russell opened an eye and peeked to see where the grumpy old codger was at. The room appeared empty. Opening both eyes, he looked around and confirmed that he was alone. The alter was set, candles were lit, and as he stood on stiffened knees, a side door opened and a plump, middle-aged woman wandered inside.

“Oh!” she gasped, a hand going to her throat. “Is Father White here? I’m Madeline, the pianist.”

Russell beamed at Madeline and was rewarded by an instant flush to her cheeks. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Father Rogers.” He gestured to his dirty jeans and plain shirt. “You’ll have to forgive my attire. I’ve been on the road for some days and just arrived.”

“You’re the pastor from Wyoming!” Madeline said with enthusiasm as she shuffled amongst the pews, making her way toward him. “We’re thrilled to have another pastor here in Mercy.”

Russell accepted her outstretched hand when she finally reached him and shook it eagerly. “Guilty as charged,” he teased. “But I’m afraid my journey and intent have likely been exaggerated. I’m here only as a guest. To be honest with you, Madeline,” he added, leaning close enough for her to smell the cologne he’d put on that morning. “My faith has come under attack. During these end days I join the people of Mercy as nothing more than a weak man, seeking redemption.”

Madeline was still holding his hand, and she covered it with her other one before lifting it towards her chest like a maiden seeking the blessing of her king. “Oh, Father Rogers, I implore you to share your wisdom with this parish. We need to hear the words of someone who recognizes the trying times we’re facing and how it can alter our views of what faith means to us.”

“Ahem.” From behind them, Father White very loudly cleared his throat.

Wincing, Russell pulled his hand out from Madeline’s grasp and offered her a conspiratorial wink before turning to face the priest. “Father. I’ve had the joy of meeting your pianist. Do you have any other musicians participate in your services?” Already knowing what the answer was, Russell enjoyed the expected rise he got from the old man.

“Certainly not!” Father White spat. “Mercy is an orthodox parish, Father Rogers. While you may have allowed a band to lead your congregation onto whatever path you chose, we will have nothing of the sort here. Let us be clear on that.”

“My apologies, Father,” Russell purred while barely hiding his smile. At least he’d gotten the man to say more than one sentence. Mayor Patty had brought Russell to the apartment behind the church the night before, after the barbeque. He hadn’t even met Father White until late that morning when they’d exchanged nothing more than formal introductions. Since Russell was volunteered by Patty to fish all afternoon, it had been easy to stay under the other man’s radar.

Madeline, sensing the tension, made a quick departure. Soon, the church was full of hymnal music. Russell sincerely hoped Father White wouldn’t quiz him on any of the sung prayers, since many of them were shared between the denominations. Music wasn’t something Russell had ever gotten into, nor payed attention to.

“What seminary did you attend?”

Russell raised an eyebrow at Father White, intrigued by his guile. “I was blessed with the opportunity to go to Berkeley Divinity School at Yale,” Russell answered without any hesitation. “A beautiful campus. Although that was many years ago, I must say, and quite a lot has changed over the past decade.”

Father White grunted before moving to open the front doors. Russell followed, and watched as the elderly man painstakingly updated the church service marquee board, located near the sweeping stone steps.

“I was a postulant for nearly a year,” Russell offered while handing the priest a letter he needed. “I confess I was a bit eager in my younger years and had more confidence than was warranted.”

“A trait not uncommon among those seeking to be ordained,” Father White mumbled. It wasn’t much, but Russell still considered it progress.

He was rather enjoying his time with the old priest. The man was still sharp, in spite of his years, and had the same cunning as the Catholic minister Russell grew up with. For years, Russell attended Sunday mass with his mother and younger brother. It was during some of the more poignant sermons that he came to understand how he was different from everyone else. It was tempting to believe he’d been called into existence to serve a higher being, but Russell saw beyond that veil. The tapestry he was woven into wasn’t so simple as good and evil or right and wrong. His was a thread that, if pulled, revealed an intricate path capable of either unraveling the fabric or holding it all together.

Russell was ten when their pastor caught him in the alley behind the church, mutilating a cat. When confronted, instead of being ashamed and trying to run away, he had giggled. Apparently, that left quite an impression, because he was later subjected to extreme prayer sessions, held in his attic room, the air heavy with the scent of frankincense.

The distant notes of the organ could almost be mistaken for the tune of “Edelweiss”, if Russell closed his eyes and didn’t think too hard about it. The smell of burning candles wafted through the air and the atmosphere was heavy with a looming storm. Almost like the oppressive, muggy confines of the attic.

“Father Rogers. Are you okay?”

Russell jumped at the nearness of the priest, and for a moment, only a brief fraction of a second, his eyes dropped the mask he spent his life behind.

Father White took a step back. He fumbled with the letters still clasped between his fingers, and his discomfort was almost comical.

Before Russell had a chance to attempt and smooth things over, two horses came galloping down the street. The church was on the northwest edge of town and was the last building on the road, so it was obvious where they were heading. Russell didn’t think it was normal for the congregation to rush to mass in such a manner, so he followed after Father White to go greet them.

Two men Russell had never seen before reined their mounts in at the last moment, kicking up dust on the pastor’s white robes. Lightning jabbed at the sky behind them as one of them dismounted, his face distorted with grief. “Father, we need you to come with us to the clinic.”

“Is it the—”

“No,” the man still seated on his horse interrupted. “Not the cholera. There was an accident with the wagon.”

“It took us several hours to get everyone out of the wreckage and to the clinic,” the man standing in front of Father White explained, his voice strained. He glanced over at Russell. “You the new priest?”

Russell nodded without thinking much about it, but was answered by a sharp look from Father White.

“Good,” the man continued, turning his attention back again to Father White. “We can use you both for the last rites.”

Chapter 13

JAMES

Master Sergeant, US Marines, 1st Force Reconnaissance

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

The ticking of the clock seemed abnormally loud. James refused to look at it, and it took all of his self-control not to shift uncomfortably in the leather chair. He hadn’t noticed the tick-tick-tick of the old-style mechanism the last time he’d been in General Montgomery’s office, but it was probably because he’d been distracted. Or, perhaps the air units that shut off as he entered had been running during the past meeting, drowning the smaller noise out.

More than likely, it was because the general was staring silently at James. Montgomery’s attention hadn’t wavered for a good two minutes, so that James became acutely aware of everything around them. Such as a fluorescent light over the table in the room behind him that was flickering. There was also a low, resonant vibration in the granite floor that James could feel in his feet, and a piece of red yarn had come loose from a tack on the general’s giant map. It hung just inside James’s view and was moving slightly from a current of air he couldn’t feel.

He was having a hard time determining the mood of the general, which James found very disconcerting. He was normally an excellent judge of people and their demeanors. Montgomery was certainly paler since he’d last seen him four days earlier. He might have even lost a few pounds, though his starched uniform made it difficult to tell. He was perfectly still, aside from the index finger of his left hand, which was making small, quick movements on top of the desk, almost like he was scratching at the wood.

Unable to stop himself, James shifted his eyes to look more closely at the motion. Montgomery’s hand froze and he cleared his throat, leading James to believe the general hadn’t even been aware he was doing it.

“I didn’t realize that 1st Force Reconnaissance had a problem following orders.” The general’s voice was level and free of irritation, but the allegation was clear nonetheless.

“Sir?” James was honestly surprised by the remark.

“I thought it was made clear that there were to be no other packages taken with the asset.”

James stared at General Montgomery for a moment as he processed the statement. He had an internal battle between soldier and father as he grasped that the little girl was being referred to in such a manner. “The child is the doctor’s granddaughter,” James said carefully, being sure not to allow any emotions to show. “I… used her as leverage, sir, to prevent an unnecessary conflict.”

Montgomery picked up a pen and began tapping it, his eyes narrowing. “Yes. I read the report. I’m aware of your justifications, and while I can appreciate a certain level of ingenuity in the field, I still expect you to adhere to standing orders. They are not a guideline. I need to make sure you’re clear on that before you leave on your next mission.”

“Crystal.” James noticed the general’s eyes narrowing further. “Sir.”

“Have you been apprised of the next assignment?” Montgomery slid a folder across his desk as he spoke, and then tapped it once, lightly.

James looked down at the plain manila folder with some uneasiness. “Only that we leave before dawn.” When it became clear that he was meant to take it, he begrudgingly picked it up. There was only one sheet of paper inside. That was all he needed.

Montgomery watched as James frowned down at the document. “The asset made contact some days ago, but as of yet, their location has not been confirmed. You’re being sent to their residence. Is that going to be a problem, Sergeant?”

James shifted in the chair and then leaned forward on one knee, holding the folder out towards the general. “What happens to the assets, sir?”

Montgomery leaned back with an expression that suggested he finally got the reaction he was expecting. Slapping his hands dramatically on the arms of his chair, the general pushed himself up and walked out from behind the grand desk. “Normally, that isn’t a question I would answer, but in your case I’m willing to make an exception.” Turning away from James, he began to pace in front of the world map.

James watched the older man carefully, bothered by the image of the ornately-clad commander taking measured steps across the room. The looming image of marked destruction as a backdrop was unsettling, rather than motivating. James didn’t see much hope on that map, and his feelings for the general were troubled. Normally, he wouldn’t bother to worry over how he did or didn’t feel about a commander, but since this commander was the man leading what was left of their country…it mattered.

“Sergeant, the men and woman on the Survivor’s List have been deemed the greatest minds of our nation,” Montgomery began, pausing in his march. “Doctors, leaders, teachers, and scientists in various fields. They are the key to rebuilding. With their knowledge and ingenuity, we can and will work our way back from the brink of complete destruction. They will be treated as a precious commodity.” Moving back to his desk, he stopped in front of James. “I can, however, understand your misgivings.”

James stood, noting how the general didn’t take a step back as most men would. “Not at all, sir. Tomorrow’s mission will be handled the same as any other.”

General Montgomery reached out slowly and took ahold of the folder, setting it back pointedly on the desk. “Make sure that it is. No matter who the asset is.”

Chapter 14

DANNY

Miner’s Trail, Central Montana

Lightning crackled overhead and the hair on the back of Danny’s arms rose. She had a very bad feeling that they were about to bear the full brunt of the storm they’d been eyeing for more than a day.

“What’s with the orange lightning?” Ethan asked Sam as the two of them rode side by side, behind Danny. Tom was leading the way, and had been since they’d started out on the Miner’s Trail.

“My guess is it has to do with the chemical changes in the atmosphere I was telling you about,” Sam explained, gazing up at the sky.

“Oxides?” Ethan said, sounding uncertain.

“Essentially,” Sam replied. He started getting into more detail about chemical compounds and Danny stopped listening. It was all fascinating up to a point, but she was well over her initial curiosity when it came to the upper atmosphere.

Spurring her horse on, Danny took advantage of the flatter span of trail they were currently on to move up next to Tom. She chuckled when she saw how Grace lay sprawled across Lily’s shoulders, her head nestled against Tom’s thigh, sound asleep.

“How do you do that?” Danny asked, raising an eyebrow at Tom.

He did his best to look innocent. “Do what?”

“Get a dog who can hardly sit still long enough to be petted, to fall asleep on the back of a horse?” Danny said playfully. “You must be a dog whisperer, as well as a horse and cattle whisperer.”

Tom shrugged and then rested a hand on Lily’s neck. “I think it’s as much the horse as it is me,” he said. “I don’t think this would happen if I rode Tango.”

Laughing lightly, Danny looked sideways at Tom, trying to study his features without being too obvious. The bruising and swelling had healed to the point that he wasn’t quite so scary looking, and she might even describe him as ruggedly good looking. It was his unusual green eyes that intrigued her the most. Danny knew he was intelligent, and when he turned his full attention on her, it was like he could read her mind, sometimes.

Tom turned his head then and caught her staring, so she tried to cover it up with a question. “I’ve been wondering…”

“Yeah?” Tom smiled crookedly at her while absently petting Grace.

“Between the Duke and Miller ranches, whose is bigger?”

Tom looked somewhat surprised by her question, and seemed happy to talk about his ranch. “We have over five thousand acres and close to a thousand head of cattle,” he said with some pride.

Danny tried to pretend like she knew what that meant. “So…yours is the biggest?”

Tom laughed. “Yeah, Duke’s is about half the size of our operation, although his pastures are underused, so they could take on more.”

Danny recalled the men’s parting conversation that morning, and how they were talking about keeping in touch and possibly setting up some trades. After watching the two of the men interact for two days, she felt she had a greater understanding of the camaraderie the rancher community shared.

“So then how about the blue lightning?” Ethan’s voice rose as his conversation with Sam became more animated. Danny was used to the friendly banter the two often shared, and she envied it to a certain degree.

Ethan’s question was punctuated by a blinding flash of intense bluish light, visible even though it was still the middle of the afternoon. Earth-shaking thunder followed it, and then a silence so deep that Tom stopped Lilly.

The woods the trail had taken them through was a mixture of open plains interspersed with steeper, rocky glades. As Danny tried to interpret the heaviness that seemed to accompany the silence, she was thankful that the current landscape was at least relatively flat, although heavily wooded. After the morning fog burned off, the temperatures reached a high of around eighty, but an unusual humidity made it feel like they were in a sauna. Tugging at her sticky T-shirt, Danny couldn’t shake the feeling that something malevolent was about to be released, and they were right in its path.

Twisting in his saddle, Tom looked back at Danny first, and then Sam and Ethan. They were all spooked. He looked up, and Danny followed his gaze. A bizarre display of what Sam called mammatus clouds hung overhead, huge drooping protrusions that reminded Danny of being underwater. The comparison might not be too far from accurate.

There was a perceptible shift in the temperature, a sudden plunge followed by a wind blowing from the opposite direction of the storm. As the wind increased, it began to howl around them, and then abruptly stopped, thunder rumbling in its wake.

Grace lifted her head and whined before twisting around and leaping off of Lily’s back. Barking once, she started to run up the trail.

“I think Grace has the right idea,” Sam said nervously. “Let’s get out of here.”

None of them needed any more encouragement and they took off at a challenging pace. Danny winced as she bounced in the saddle, knowing she was going to pay for all of the hard riding they’d already done that day. She would have thought that after more than a week there would come a point where it wouldn’t hurt anymore. However, if that were the case, she apparently hadn’t achieved enough experience to call herself a cowgirl yet.

“State Route 12 shouldn’t be more than a few miles away,” Tom called back. “This trail puts out at a campground. Maybe we can find some shelter there before the storm breaks loose.”

Danny tried to remember the map Tom had showed her when they stopped earlier for lunch. No matter how much she recalled, it still didn’t make a whole lot of sense. She knew they’d crossed Highway 90 a few hours earlier, so that gave Danny a better grasp of where they were, geographically speaking. While it was a stretch of road she wasn’t necessarily familiar with, just knowing they were momentarily standing on a highway she had driven on so often brought a certain level of comfort. Of course, once they’d disappeared back into the trees she may as well have been on the moon.

Sam was trying to shout something in response, but his words were lost in the wind. It was then that the sky literally split open and a wall of water was unleashed.

Danny gasped as the cool rain hit her face with alarming force, instantly soaking her clothes. Her vision blurred, and her horse must have been blinded too, because she faltered and then slowed to a walk.

The wind howled again, an eerie sound unlike anything Danny had ever heard before. She began to shiver, and it was in that moment that she realized how people died from exposure in the mountains. She didn’t know what to do except hold on and keep moving, so long as Tom didn’t stop in front of her. She could still see him, or rather, his form moving in the premature darkness. It was like the rain had brought the very clouds down with it, to encase them in a surreal landscape that didn’t exist only moments before.

“Dad!” Ethan shouted from somewhere close, and Danny strained to see him through the torrential onslaught.

“Keep moving!” Tom replied, his voice muffled.

As abruptly as the rain had started, it disappeared, leaving Danny blinking rapidly in the aftermath. A mosaic of dark shadows glided over them and through the clearing they were in. The wind shifted again, intensifying at the same time.

“What’s happening?” Danny cried. She knew her voice was shaking, but she didn’t care at that moment about being brave. The trail had turned to mud as the massive amount of rain pooled in any flat area, and her horse slipped, threatening to unseat her. Leaves and pine needles swirled around them, engaged in some form of dance normally reserved for an audience of fairies.

Sam’s horse came alongside her, and Danny could see that her friend’s head was turned up to the sky. He looked around almost frantically, and the hairs on her arms stood once again.

“I’ve never seen a twister out here,” Sam shouted to anyone who could hear him. “But this is certainly a storm cell capable of producing one.”

“A tornado!” Danny repeated, flinching as another wild crack of lightning lit the trees around them. That one was orange and she briefly understood Ethan’s interest in how the colors were variable.

A new sound began to develop under the roar of the wind, a plopping or ticking, like pebbles thrown against a window. Then, Danny felt the first sting as a sizeable piece of ice hit her bare arm. “Hail!” she moaned. Normally, she enjoyed a good storm and would often sit out on the roof of the fire station as the lightning developed. However, there was nothing normal about what they were experiencing, including the hail. It wasn’t your typical pea-sized pellets, but huge chunks about half the size of a golf ball.

“Ouch!” Danny ducked as another struck her back, though there was nowhere to hide.

“We need to get off the horses!” Sam yelled, already stopped and sliding out of his saddle. “Tom! We’ve got to find some shelter!”

Danny didn’t think it was possible, but the wind continued to grow in strength. The trees groaned under the strain as the tops bent over and sizeable branches crashed to the ground. One clawed at her cheek, compelling Danny to follow Sam’s instructions. Yelping in pain, she threw an arm over her head in vain as she jumped to the ground.

“We’re close to the campground.” Tom suddenly appeared next to Danny, and she was relieved to see he was holding Grace protectively in his arms.  He led the way into the trees next to the trail, though they didn’t offer much protection. “The cliff Jesper told me about is just ahead.” Tom winced as a piece of ice bounced off his shoulder and he looked angry about it rather than concerned. Danny knew him well enough to figure he was already chastising himself for not going faster, or for taking too long for lunch. He always managed to find a way to blame himself for the things that went wrong, even when it was Mother Nature.

“Where’s Ethan?” Tom shouted.

A frenzied whinny drew their attention back to the trail, and Danny turned to see Ethan struggling to control Tango as he reared up in fright. She reached out to take Grace from Tom without him asking, and then watched as he raced out into the storm. Danny stood helpless, her hair whipping across her face and ice tearing at her arms.

Before Tom could reach his son, there was a horrendous splintering sound, and dread filled Danny as she realized it was a falling tree that blocked them both from view.

Chapter 15

TOM

Miner’s Trail, Central Montana

The blur of movement confused Tom for a moment, until the sound of the splintering wood reached him. Desperately throwing his arms over his head, he leapt to where he’d last seen Ethan.

He was met by a wall of foliage that clawed at him, pushing him back and pressing him into the ground at the same time. With the howling wind and blinding rain, Tom felt like he’d been trapped in the churning bowels of the earth.

“Ethan!” Tom shouted, ignoring the new flashes of pain in his back and right thigh. He was still moving forward. All that mattered was getting to his son.

Pushing aside a final branch, Tom broke loose from the fallen cedar tree and staggered out into what remained of the clearing. He splashed through pooling water as the hail turned back to rain. Wiping it from his eyes, he searched for a sign of Ethan. Tango was standing nearby, his ears back, pawing at the ground and turning it to mud.

“Ethan!” Tom yelled again, his voice sounding more frantic, even to himself.

“Dad, I’m okay!” Ethan’s voice was faint but close by. “I…I think I’m okay, but I can’t really move.”

“Tom!” Danny called.

Tom looked up to see Danny and Sam running around the massive mound of fresh dirt the fallen tree had uprooted. He waved a hand at them, unsure if they could see him through all of the branches. “We’re over here!”

When Danny reached him, he saw that her arms and neck were peppered with red welts from the hail, and there was a large, raw scratch across her cheek. “Where’s Ethan?” Her eyes were wide with fear, and she had to shout to be heard over the wind.

Tom pointed at the cedar and shook his head. “In there, somewhere. Sam, can you get your flashlight?”

Sam didn’t even acknowledge the request before he ran away, and Tom turned back to Danny. “Help me.”

Nodding silently, she moved up next to him and together, they began pushing through the limbs, heavy with long cedar boughs. “You’re bleeding,” she said, leaning in close so he could hear her. When he stared at her uncomprehendingly, she paused long enough to pull the cloth headband from her hair. Using it like a rag, she wiped the blood from his right eye and then pressed it, hard, against the wound on his forehead that he’d re-opened.

“I’m fine,” he protested, trying to pull away.

“Hold on!” Grabbing his forearm, she kept the compress in place for another ten seconds. Pulling the cloth back slightly, she was satisfied enough then to let him go.

“Here!” Sam was back with the flashlight, and held it out to Tom. Racked by a coughing fit, Sam stepped back and then sat down hard on the wet ground.

“Where’s your inhaler?” Danny demanded.

Tom snapped the light on as the two of them talked, and he turned back to the tree. He knew Danny would take care of Sam. Ethan was still his main priority, but the branches seemed impenetrable.

“I’m here, Dad!”

Tom could hear his son calling to him, but couldn’t see how to get any closer to where he was nestled under the vegetation. The tree was simply too gigantic to even think about moving.

Woof! Woof!

“Grace!” Spinning around, Tom saw the retriever was running back and forth between Danny, Tango, and the edge of the tree. “Grace! Find Ethan!” Tom had no idea if the dog would understand the command, but she seemed to respond to it. Whining, she ran faster, and started to paw at the ground.

“Find Ethan, Grace!” Danny also shouted. She was kneeling down next to Sam, helping him with his inhaler. The rain was so heavy that Tom had to blink against it, and his vision blurred.

Grace barked again, this time with more excitement, and then she lunged in between the branches. Within a few minutes, the pitch of her bark increased and she almost sounded like she was being tortured.

“Good girl!” Ethan shouted, his voice barely audible over the wind, rain, and barking. “She found me!”

Tom looked back at Danny to discover that she was gone. Sam was trying to stand, the inhaler still in his hand. “Sit back down, Sam,” he ordered.

Danny reappeared around the end of the tree again, and she held something in both of her hands. As she ran toward him, Tom realized she had the axes. “Here,” she ordered, thrusting one at him. “Let’s get to work.”

After an hour of clearing away the largest of the branches from that section of the tree, they finally exposed where Grace was furiously digging in the mud. Tom dropped to his knees next to her and shone the flashlight into the cluster of boughs. “Ethan, you still doing okay? We’ll have you out in a minute.”

The whites of Ethan’s eyes shone bright in the flashlight, and his teeth flashed when he smiled. “My arm just hurts a little. I’ll bet I’m a lot drier than you guys!”

Laughing, Danny pushed in next to Tom, pulling at the cedar with her bare hands to make a larger opening. “What’s got you trapped?” she asked, already trying to work through the problem.

“I think I could push my way through most of this,” Ethan answered. “Except there’s one bigger branch laying across my back. The ground was soft enough that I don’t think it really hurt me, but I can’t wiggle out from under it. Guess my butt’s too big.”

Tom smiled back. It was a good sign he was joking about it. “Hold on.”

Standing, he reached out and pulled Danny to her feet. They were both covered with scratches from pushing through the cedar branches, and mud was caked onto almost every visible surface. “Let’s find that branch.”

Working their way back from where they found Ethan, they were able to locate what they thought was the largest of the branches pinning him down. It was difficult to swing the ax effectively in the confined space, and Tom was grateful when Danny joined him on the opposite side. It was painstaking work, but together they managed to finally cut through it.

“That was it!” Ethan shouted, and Tom could hear him thrashing around.

Going back to where Grace was still digging, he reached in and was finally able to grasp Ethan’s hand. Grunting with the effort, he dug his heels in and leaned back, pulling with all of his strength.

First one arm, and then the other came out into the open space they’d created. Danny got down on her hands and knees and grabbed Ethan’s belt, using it like a rope to help work the rest of his body free.

“Oomph!” Ethan gasped as Grace lunged onto his chest and began to enthusiastically lick the mud from his face.

Tom hooked him under the armpits and lifted Ethan to his feet. It had been awhile since he’d tried to pick his son up, and Tom realized he was almost the size of a man. Staring at the back of his child’s head, the one that reached above his chin, he was forced to admit Ethan wasn’t a child anymore. Tom rested his hands on Ethan’s shoulders and then turned him around. Holding him at arm’s length, he tried to determine if there were any serious injuries, but all he saw was mud.

“I’m okay, Dad.” Even under the extreme conditions, Ethan still managed to sound put out by the concern.

“This looks like it might hurt a little.” Danny was attempting to get a closer look at an obvious abrasion on his upper right arm.

Rolling his shoulder, Ethan winced when he straightened his arm out. “Yeah, it’s sore, but I can still move it okay. No biggie.”

“We were all lucky,” Sam said as he ducked under one branch and pushed aside another. He coughed and then pointed up at the sky. “Looks like the worst of the storm passed, and the horses are okay,” he added.

Tom noticed it had brightened considerably and the rain was even tolerable. The wind still kicked up occasionally with thirty to forty-mile-per-hour gusts, but the sustained breeze was much less. “We should get moving, then. We still have a few hours of daylight left.”

“Whoa!” Danny urged, stepping in front of him. “Don’t you think Ethan and Sam could use a rest? Maybe we should stay here for tonight and use this tree for a shelter.”

Tom was rattled after the storm and with how close he’d come to losing his son. He was emotionally charged and on edge, so while he managed not to say the first thing that came to mind, he knew he didn’t keep it from his face. Danny frowned at him and took a full step back. Sighing, Tom ran a hand through his hair, realizing he’d lost his cowboy hat at some point. “Look,” he finally said, knowing he wasn’t going to do a good job of placating her. “We can cover another twenty miles tonight. It could make the difference between getting to Mercy in two days or three.”

“I said I’m fine,” Ethan interjected. He was kneeling down in the mud with Grace and had finally managed to calm the dog.

Danny crossed her arms over her chest, and Tom knew he was in trouble. “The storm caused a bronchial reaction in Sam. Either the cold or something in the air, but I don’t think he should travel.”

“Danny,” Sam said. “I appreciate your concern, but do you really think it will make a difference? Since the storm is letting up, this might be the best chance we have to travel in the next couple of days. We have no idea what the forecast is.”

Tom had always envied how easily the older man communicated with Danny, and he watched as the two of them had a calm, rational conversation. In the end, Danny agreed to two more hours of riding, and they’d stop immediately if his breathing got any worse.

As Tom put his ax back on the packhorse, he resisted the urge to take the map out again. It wasn’t waterproof and although they were close to where the old trail ended and the one he was familiar with began, he didn’t want to take any chances with it.

“Why does the rain taste weird?” Ethan asked. He was already back on Tango, and Tom saw that he was favoring his right arm by cradling it against his chest.

“What do you mean?” Tom licked at his lips. It was hardly raining anymore, but he was still covered in it.

Ethan shrugged. “I dunno…like, sour or something.”

“I figured it was running out of my hair, and I just need to take a shower,” Danny offered with a grin. Tom was glad to see her smiling again, though she hadn’t said much to him as they prepared the horses.

Sam gave Ethan and Danny an odd look, and then to Tom’s surprise, licked his arm. He frowned.

“What is it?” Tom asked.

Sam licked his other arm and then smacked his lips, his thick brows drawing together in consternation. “It tastes like metal.”

“Okay…” Tom said slowly, not liking the way Sam was looking around at the trees and then the sky. He followed his gaze and saw that the bulk of the monster storm cell had passed over, and was moving to the north, toward Mercy.

“Nitric acid,” Sam said, as if that explained everything.

“Acid?” Danny repeated. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m afraid I’m not.” Sam licked his arm again.

“Stop!” Danny said, moving closer to him. “If it’s acid, isn’t it dangerous?”

Sam shook his head and then waved a hand up at the sky. “It’s part of the same process that stripped the ozone layer and is producing these storms. The conversion of nitrogen and oxygen into oxides. The nitrous oxide rises and then combines with other chemicals to produce the acid rain. But it shouldn’t be harmful to us directly,” he added as an afterthought.

“Are you sure?” Ethan asked, not looking convinced.

“You can swim in acid rain without any immediate effects,” Sam replied. “It’s a slight PH difference, although the fact that we can taste it indicates it must be at a PH around five, at the most.”

Tom had no idea what that meant, but he was relieved their skin wasn’t going to melt off. “Can we drink it?”

Sam rubbed at his chin. “My understanding of it is that yes, we could, but I wouldn’t recommend it long-term. It could lead to…complications. No, the greatest impact will be to the lakes and streams. Maybe even the plants.”

Tom’s stomach clenched as he thought of the possible implications behind Sam’s words. “How?”

“It’s caustic,” Sam said simply. “In a high enough concentration, or with chronic exposure, we could see large fish die-offs, as well as a cascading effect through the plants and food chain.”

Tom closed his eyes against yet another obstacle he felt helpless to fight against. Forcing himself to look again at the retreating storm, he thought of home and the vast plains, lakes, and streams that made Mercy a safe haven.

They had no idea what was coming for them.

Chapter 16

CHLOE

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

The wind shifted, carrying with it the scent of dry pine needles and fresh hay. Chloe pushed her bangs out of her face and straightened from the hay she was bucking, turning into the breeze and closing her eyes.

The silence was something Chloe welcomed. Her life had always been full of too much noise. Her first jog that morning had gone well and she already felt better. Like a small amount of the weight that was trying to smother her had lifted.

Chloe missed her exercise app, which would have told her exactly how far she went, but she guessed it was around five miles. Well, maybe four miles of running and another of walking. She wasn’t in the best shape of her life.

Opening her eyes, Chloe stretched her back and looked at the last of the hay that still needed to be moved. She didn’t pretend to get the whole system yet, though Sandy was doing her best to explain it. With the amount of cattle on the ranch, they were constantly rotating them through various fields, and also supplementing with hay. It was a continuous effort simply to keep the cows where they belonged and she understood now what Patty meant. They needed more people. It was that simple. The four of them might be able to keep up with the very basics of caring for the cattle, but it meant that almost every other aspect of the farm was suffering.

Chloe always did a lot of thinking when she jogged, and that morning she brainstormed about the farm’s water problem and the woodstove conversion. Once the spring and farmer’s market were both running more smoothly, they could borrow the muscle they needed to begin on their water issue. However, when it came to the stove, if Chloe had her way, they’d apply her latest ideas to the work-in-progress after dinner, and she’d be baking a pie before midnight. Or rather, Crissy and Sandy would. She was embarrassed to admit she didn’t know how to make a pie.

“Earth to Chloe!” Crissy called out in a sing-song voice.

Chloe dropped her pitchfork and stared at her friend in surprise. She was working at the far end of one of the nearest fields, but it was still a good walk from the house. Crissy was picking her way through the tall grass and wiping her hands on one of Sandy’s smocks she’d starting wearing when working with the chickens. Her long blonde hair was arranged in practical braids and she was makeup free. She looked healthy, and Chloe noticed with some suspicion that she had a curious spring in her step that bordered on happiness.

“I’ve got at least another hour of work out here,” Chloe said before Crissy could get a word in. “If you’re done with the chickens and gardening, you should grab a pitchfork!”

Crissy snorted. “Yeah, sure. Like I’ll ever be done with the endless supply of weeds in that jungle Sandy calls a garden. This—” she said while grabbing the tool out of Chloe’s hands, “is called taking a break, Chlo. You know…where you sit down and do something silly, like talk with your best friend?” She unslung a bag from her shoulder, and pulled out a water bottle and piece of jerky. “I swear, I’ve hardly seen you in the past three days! You’re out here before I even get up, and it seems like one of us is always asleep when the other one goes to bed.”

Crissy was right, except she was exaggerating about their being separated. They’d just sat together at the barbeque the night before. Although, Chloe couldn’t remember saying more than a few words to each other over the meal. She hadn’t been in the best of moods. Feeling somewhat guilty, she took the offered snack and smiled at Crissy. “Thanks. And you’re right, we need to make sure we do something together every once in a while besides work, eat, and sleep.”

Crissy’s smile widened. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Uh-oh.” Chloe had the distinct feeling she’d just been set up.

“Next week, on the Fourth of July, Tim is having a barn dance.” Crissy clasped her hands together and stared excitedly at Chloe.

“Tim?”

Crissy rolled her eyes. “Tim. Tall, lanky, always wears that ridiculous straw-colored cowboy hat?”

“The guy that threw up when he had to help clean out Miss Hannigan’s toilet?” Chloe raised an eyebrow, frowning at the thought of a barn full of dystopia-laden teens.

“That’s the one,” Crissy giggled. “But we don’t talk about that day. Ever.”

Laughing, Chloe chewed on the tasty jerky while trying to come up with a good enough excuse to bow out of the dance.

“You’re not getting out of it,” Crissy said, reading her mind. “It’s already settled. Apparently, it’s what passes around here for a party. A literal barn dance. I thought that was only something people sang about in country songs. Except that Tim’s parents will be there, so there isn’t going to be any alcohol, and only live music.” Crissy stared off into space for a moment and then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter! It’s an excuse to take a bath, put on what passes for clean clothes, and have some fun!”

Maybe Crissy was right. While it felt almost disrespectful to have a party, at the same time, they were still kids. They were still alive, and they needed to find a way to move forward. If playing some bad banjo music in a barn for a few hours helped, then who was she to judge?

Chloe took a swig of water and then held the bottle out to Crissy with a smile. “Sounds like fun.”

“Really?” Crissy sounded suspicious. “Because I thought I was going to have to learn how to hogtie you and throw you over a horse or something.”

“I’m not that boring!” Chloe laughed. Or was she? She’d never actually been to a school dance. The thought reminded her that she didn’t really know how to dance. Not that she planned on doing it at the barn, but what if someone asked her? That led to her worrying about what she’d wear. Sighing, Chloe grabbed the pitchfork and took a vicious stab at the hay bale. It was much easier to just work at the farm.

Sandy came into view in the distance, driving several cows ahead of her. Chloe was always impressed with the physical strength that the fifty-six-year-old woman displayed. Though not much taller than average, she was solidly built and could probably hold her own against most men. She sat tall and proud in the saddle, her black hair loose and trailing behind her, flowing out from under her cowboy hat.

“Where’d she come from?” Crissy asked, stepping up next to Chloe.

“Had to go find some cows that wandered off,” Chloe explained, and then pointed to the south. “She’s pretty worried about that weird storm that’s been building up. Says it’s got the animals all spooked.”

Crissy raised a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the lowering sun and stared at the immense wall of clouds at the edge of the valley. “Are you sure it’s even coming this way? I swear it’s been swirling down there for more than a day.”

Chloe hefted the last chunk of hay and walked with it to the feeder. Several cows had already lumbered over and more were on their way. “Sandy was sure of it this morning, and I think she’s right. It definitely looks closer now. Come on.” Chloe hooked an arm through Crissy’s and started walking. “Come with me to the barn. If you help me muck the stalls, we’ll have time for a game of gin rummy before we start dinner.”

Crissy wrinkled her nose but didn’t resist. “Only if you go with me after dinner to help collect eggs.”

“Deal.” Chloe knew it wasn’t exactly a fair trade, but since it gave Crissy more of her desired “friend time”, then she figured it wasn’t really taking advantage of her.

As they approached the barn, they could hear Bishop hammering on something inside. Chloe thought he’d still be fishing and was surprised to find him bending over what looked like a giant wheel, propped up on sawhorses.

“Did you go fishing?” Chloe asked when he paused and looked up. There was an edge to her voice and he frowned at her. She might be totally sick of fish, but it was currently still one of their main sources of protein and what they’d planning to have for dinner.

Bishop waved wordlessly to a five-gallon bucket near the entrance. Chloe walked back to look inside and saw that there were four nice-looking trout. “Sorry,” she offered, going back to stand next to him. “What are you working on?”

Pausing for a moment to give her one of his infamous “Bishop looks” to let her know he was going to let her rudeness pass while still acknowledging it. He then gestured to the wheel. “It’s what it looks like. We desperately need another wagon. Not only for here on the farm, but for use around town. I studied the other one thoroughly, and I think that with some help from the local tradesmen, we should be able to make one. Maybe several, eventually.”

Chloe was impressed. It was a brilliant idea. Without the ability to get any of the cars or tractors working in the near future, not to mention the whole gas-supply issue, the wagon was their best option. Especially with the amount of snow she was told they would get there in the winter. They’d need something tall enough to be able to plow through several feet of snow.

Bishop set his oversized hammer aside and lifted the wheel before setting it upright. Rolling it back and forth to check how even it was, he smiled in satisfaction. Crissy wasn’t the only one who seemed to be benefiting from the farm life. Bishop looked comfortable in his role as a handyman and the large man seemed content wielding heavy tools and living off the land.

“Bishop, I’m glad you’re here,” Sandy called from the other end of the barn. She was still on her horse and Chloe thought she looked anxious. “I got those blasted cows back, but I need your help securing the upper pasture. That storm is coming fast now. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I don’t want to have to go chasing after hundreds of cattle in its wake.”

Bishop set the wheel back down without a word and started for his horse, which was still saddled and ready to go back out.

“Can we help?” Chloe offered.

“No,” Sandy replied. “The two of us can handle it. Go ahead and work on dinner. We’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

As Bishop got on his horse and lifted a hand in a parting gesture, the sound of a galloping horse approaching made him pause. Chloe spun around to see a huge man riding up, and recognized him as Bishop’s friend, Tane Latu.

“Bishop!” Tane shouted as he reached the barn. “I’ve been trying to call you on the handheld, but we think the storm is interfering with it.”

“What’s going on?” Sandy asked, having turned back. “What happened?”

Tane glanced at Crissy, and Chloe’s stomach clenched.

“There was an accident this afternoon with the wagon.” Tane shifted in his saddle and his mouth formed a grim line. “Three people died, Bishop, including Ned Allen.”

Chloe struggled to remember who Ned Allen was, as Crissy leaned in close to her and whispered, “I think he was the old mayor of Mercy.”

Sandy brought her horse farther into the barn, obviously upset by the news. “That’s horrible, Tane! Is someone with his wife?”

Tane nodded and looked at Crissy again. “We also had a couple of others injured.”

Crissy grasped Chloe’s hand and they braced themselves.

“Your friend Trevor was seriously hurt, girls,” Tane finally said. “I need you to come with me. He’s asking for you.”

Chapter 17

PATTY

City Hall, Mercy, Montana

Patty stared at the faces surrounding her at the large table, tired of being in the same position yet again. It would never get any easier.

Caleb reached out and enveloped her hand with his, stopping their movement. Patty looked down at the contrast of his dark skin against hers and blinked a few times to clear her head. She hadn’t even realized she was rubbing them together, almost frantically. She knew she was suffering from some post-traumatic stress. Even as a seasoned, albeit retired nurse, there were still some things that she’d see when she closed her eyes at night.

Patty resisted the urge to throw Caleb’s hands off and check under her nails for blood. Ned Allen’s blood. She took a shuddering breath. Once she allowed herself to cry, later that night while safe at home, she would be okay. She just had to keep it together for a couple more hours.

Closing her eyes, Patty didn’t care that everyone was waiting for her to speak, to open the meeting. Just that morning, she’d still been holding out some hope that Ned would step back in as the mayor. Patty hadn’t realized just how much she’d been relying on the older man’s guidance and wisdom. What would she do without him?

Someone cleared their throat. Several people shifted in their chairs, and a man coughed. Patty turned and looked at Caleb for a moment, steeling herself for what had to be done. “We lost three good people today,” she finally said, addressing the group. “Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson, who volunteered to transport the water, and…Councilman Ned Allen.”

There were a couple of gasps and Betty, their other councilwoman, sobbed openly. Patty didn’t know if it was because they somehow hadn’t heard the news yet, or if perhaps having it said out loud made it more real and inescapable. She wished Bishop and Sandy were there. Although they’d recently had their disagreements, they were both people the other town leaders looked up to. Patty of all people understood that securing the herd ahead of the storm was more important than a meeting, but the extra support would have been nice.

“From what we could tell at the accident scene, and based on Trevor’s account of what happened, it’s likely the water container shifted when they hit a pothole,” Sheriff Waters explained. “It was the steepest part of the gravel road and they were going too fast. That old wagon simply wasn’t able to handle it. The right wheel broke off and the whole thing rolled over the edge of the road.”

Patty shuddered, recalling the grisly scene. When she and Caleb arrived with Melissa, several people were trying to pull the five-hundred-gallon water tank off their bodies using ropes and horses. It was positioned so that they couldn’t easily release the water from it.

Bishop had done the math early on in their venture to transport the spring water, so Patty knew the container weighed over four thousand pounds. The Fergusons had been instantly crushed to death. Ned Allen hadn’t been so lucky. They managed to get his mangled body back to the clinic, where Patty sat with him for over an hour while he died. Melissa tried to keep on top of his pain with morphine, but…Patty shook her head, realizing she was rubbing her hands together again.

“That wagon should have never been used to transport so much weight in the first place,” Gary interjected.

“According to the history books, those wagons were designed to haul up to six tons of freight,” Fire Chief Martinez yelled at Gary. “I did the research myself. The water wasn’t more than two tons!”

“It was almost two hundred years old!” Gary countered. “Is it even salvageable?”

Melissa’s head jerked at the comment and she glared at Gary. “Seriously, Gary?” the doctor gasped. “Three people are dead, and your main concern is the wagon?”

Gary at least had the decency to appear chastised, though he didn’t look away from Melissa. “I don’t mean to sound callous, but we’re in a lot of trouble without our main means of transportation. Someone here needs to be thinking about that,” he had the nerve to add while staring pointedly at Patty.

“He’s right,” Patty said before anyone else could get involved. Caleb raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. “This tragedy needs to serve as yet another reminder of the constant, precarious situation we’re in,” she said with emotion. “We’ve already started building two new wagons, and if it continues to go well, the first one should be ready in a day or two.”

“We’re going to salvage some of the parts from the old one to speed the process up,” Sheriff Waters added. “Manufacturing those more specific pieces was going to be the greatest challenge to—”

“When are the funerals?” Betty interrupted. Everyone turned to look at the young schoolteacher.  “I understand how important the wagon is. I just think Ned deserves more respect. And the Fergusons. Their daughter was in my class. So…when is the funeral?” she asked again, turning that time to look at the new pastor, Father Rogers, who quietly leaned against the back wall.

Patty groaned inwardly. She’d forgotten that in the midst of everything that had happened, while leaving the clinic she’d invited both of the priests to the impromptu meeting. Her intent had been to acknowledge their help and introduce Father Russell Rogers. Father White declined the invitation, saying he was too tired and wasn’t feeling well.

“Father White will be meeting with the remaining family members or close friends tomorrow, to discuss plans for a service and burial,” Russell explained, his voice smooth and calming. He subtly pushed away from the wall and took a step closer to Betty. “I apologize that I don’t know who the deceased’s relatives are, but I can assure you Father White will handle it all respectfully.”

Betty appeared placated and Patty silently thanked Russell for his intervention. He certainly had a way with people. “I’m sorry for not introducing Father Rogers sooner,” Patty said, gesturing to the handsome man. “I’m sure you’ve all heard about his arrival by now and that he’s come to us all the way from Wyoming. He’s already been a great help and is staying in the church apartment.”

Patty leaned back in her seat and welcomed the reprieve the few minutes of introductions gave her. Russell worked his way around the table, taking time to meet each person and exchange some sort of pleasantry. All of them responded positively; a couple even laughed at whatever he said.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Sullivan, the old storekeeper stood and raised a hand in the air while speaking.

“Go ahead,” Patty encouraged. Mr. Sullivan never spoke much at the meetings. Although there wasn’t much left in his store, he still had a vast knowledge from his many years of living in Mercy.

“We’re…um, we seem to be all out of toilet paper.” He sat back down amid some chuckles and open laughter from around the room.

“This is actually a very legitimate concern,” Fire Chief Martinez said. “If people start putting things in their septic systems that aren’t compatible, no one’s going to be laughing about it.”

The laughter died down as everyone contemplated one of the simplest things they’d taken for granted throughout their lives. Toilet paper. Patty put a hand to her forehead. She simply didn’t have the resolve to think about anything else that night. Not even the demise of their septics and raw backsides.

“If you’d like, I can talk with a couple of the ladies who are supplying me with their homemade soaps and other products,” Mr. Sullivan offered. “They might have some ideas.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sullivan,” Patty said with sincerity. “Since this isn’t one of our normal meetings, I didn’t bring any of the binders with me. I’ll come by tomorrow or the next day with a new one for you and we can come up with some more plans. Okay?”

Mr. Sullivan nodded, satisfied with the plan, and Patty turned her focus back to the rest of the weary group. “I think that’s more than enough for now. I’m not sure about the rest of you, but I know Caleb and I would really like to get home before that storm lets loose on us.”

There were several mumbles of agreement, but Melissa stood before Patty could officially close the meeting. “One more thing,” she called out above the din. “Trevor, the young man who has been helping me so diligently at the clinic, was also hurt in the wagon accident. He’s going to be okay, but will be off his feet for some time. With only one nurse and two other volunteers helping me, I’m going to be struggling again to get around and check on everyone.”

“I’d be happy to help you,” Father Rogers said without any hesitation.

Melissa turned to face the priest, her eyebrows raised. “Are you sure, Father? It’s a lot of long hours full of very tedious work.”

Father Rogers shrugged his shoulders and smiled at Melissa, and Patty was again struck by how handsome the man was. She could only imagine how captivating his sermons would be. “Honestly, I have nothing else to do right now and I do have some medical background. Not a lot, but probably enough to at least be more help than hinderance.”

Melissa smiled back and Patty was almost certain she was blushing. “That would be great, Father. If you can come by in the morning after you get some breakfast, I could use some help right away.”

Russell nodded and then moved his gaze to Patty. “Thank you for welcoming me into Mercy, Mayor Woods. I only hope I can return the kindness.”

“You already have,” Patty answered, glad that he had found a way to fit in, in spite of Father White’s continued aversion to him. While the older priest hadn’t said anything more to her in the past day, it was quite obvious when he was working with him earlier at the clinic that they weren’t getting along very well.

“Let’s meet again in a few days to discuss the wagons, the next town barbeque, which also happens to be the Fourth of July, and all of the other normal updates,” Patty concluded as everyone began to rise. Backing away from the table, she started rubbing her hands together again as she walked over to the whiteboard still sitting at the back of the room. It was blank, except for the number 640 written in the middle. The green ink was in her own handwriting, but Patty could hardly remember drawing it. Taking a deep breath, she rubbed away the four and zero with the edge of her left hand while picking up the same green pen with her right. Slowly, almost reverently, she wrote the new population of 638. Would there ever come a day when the numbers increased instead of dwindled?

Her heart heavy, Patty went to set the pen back down, but paused as a surreal sound tore through the air. Spinning back towards the windows, Patty saw that everyone in the room had frozen in fear as the screeching reached a crescendo. Betty covered her ears, Mr. Sullivan ducked down behind the table and Caleb was reaching out to her. Patty struggled to understand what was happening…it was as if a train was about to hit the building, its brakes wailing in protest, while at the same time a cheetah roared and a waterfall gushed.

Then, something did hit the building, only it wasn’t a train, but a wall of water and howling wind. The storm was there, and as everyone gasped with the realization, Patty was terrified that her words from only minutes earlier would prove to be prophetic. Once again, they were unprepared and this time there was no telling what the damage would be.

Chapter 18

ETHAN

Miner’s Trail, Central Montana

“I want you to ride Lily the rest of the way.” Tom stared down at Ethan with his arms crossed over his chest and it was obvious he wasn’t in the mood to debate the situation.

However, his dad’s moodiness never stopped Ethan before. “I’m fine!” he argued, taking another bite of his biscuit. Anna had packed enough of the hard rolls and huckleberries to feed them for a couple of days. Sam was already putting dirt on the fire and Danny was tying down the last of the bags on the pack horse. Sighing audibly, Ethan got slowly to his feet, displacing Grace from his lap. She glanced up at him with a hurt look and so he held out the last of his bread to her.

“Are you?” Tom asked, his eyebrows raised. “Go ahead and lift your pack then. With only your right arm!” he added, when Ethan took hold of a strap in either hand.

Grunting, Ethan attempted to do as his father demanded, and could only lift it half of the way. His face pinched with pain; he dropped the bag back on the ground unceremoniously. “So I can’t lift my stupid backpack. That doesn’t mean I can’t sit on a horse.” Ethan knew he was whining and he glanced over at Danny, who wasn’t trying to hide the fact that she was listening. Sam at least had the decency to pretend to be doing something else.

“It’s not about sitting on a horse, and you know it.” Tom retorted. “You haven’t been on the length of that trail, Ethan. There’s a very steep, rocky section that I wouldn’t want you to take Tango through, even with a good arm. He’s too flighty and we’ve never had him on a trail like that. It’s a chance I’m not willing to take, so I’ll be riding him instead.”

“I have to agree with your dad,” Danny added, moving closer. Ethan turned his pained expression on her and she smiled at his antics. “Your arm is probably only bruised, maybe sprained, but without any real way to examine it we don’t know for sure that you didn’t break something. A hard yank on the reins and certainly a fall on a steep, rocky trail isn’t something you need to risk.”

Ethan expected his dad to be irritated at the interruption, but instead, he gave Danny a thankful grin. “What?” Ethan said, stopping Sam as he attempted to walk by with another handful of dirt he didn’t need. “You aren’t going to get in on this?”

“I figure you have enough sense to work this out on your own.” Winking, Sam tossed the dirt and then whistled for Grace. “Time to get going.”

Sam understood how Ethan’s brain worked way too well. Ethan knew his dad was right. If he were honest about it, he would admit to having a hard time keeping the gelding in check for the rest of their ride the night before, and that was on a relatively flat surface.

It had turned out to be another ten miles to the campground, where the trail met up with State Route 12 for a short distance. There had been too many people there for any of their comfort, so they had continued down the road for another few miles until his dad found the other trailhead.

Ethan understood why his dad wanted to find it before dark. He was just as eager to be on that final stretch, but it made for a really long day and he was still tired and very sore. Another night sleeping on the cold ground had emphasized all the new bruises he got from being hit by the tree.

“Fine,” Ethan huffed, picking the pack back up with his left arm. “But I’m pretty sure there’s got to be some sort of cowboy code about never taking a man’s horse away.”

Tom stared at him for moment before laughing out loud. He surprised Ethan by reaching out and ruffling his hair in a playful manner, the way he always used to. When was the last time he’d done that? Probably not since the first day of the flashpoint. Maybe even longer. The totally normal gesture brought on such a surge of unexpected emotions that Ethan had to turn away. He knew his dad probably took it the wrong way, but he wasn’t about to have a breakdown in front of everyone.

Walking to Lily without daring to look back, Ethan patted wordlessly at his thigh for Grace. The retriever responded immediately and he felt better as soon as her cold nose nudged against his hand. Kneeling down, he pretended to simply pet her back and tell her to follow him, when he was in fact using her calming presence to help him control his racing heart.

Ethan had begun to experience what he thought were panic attacks. His mom struggled with it and even took medication periodically. He’d never understood why she couldn’t simply shake it off, or whatever. Yeah…it wasn’t that easy.

His breathing back under control again, Ethan found further comfort in the familiar motions of mounting the horse. He was thankful that the sun was shining so they wouldn’t have to suffer through another miserable, wet, cold day. In fact, the sky was the darkest blue it had been in over a week and for the first time since they started the whole journey, he couldn’t smell the smoke from burning cities. It had a distinctly acrid scent to it. While the storm had been terrifying, it also turned out to be cleansing. Plus, they were heading due north and steadily climbing higher into the mountains. Montana was called Big Sky Country for good reason.

“Hopefully we won’t have a bunch of trees to get around,” Sam said as they all fell into line. Unlike the section they’d been on when the storm hit, now the trail was narrower and surrounded by dense forest. Although the debris from the storm wasn’t as bad, there were still plenty of branches and an occasional uprooted tree trunk.

“The worst part of the trail is on a rocky ledge,” Tom said. “There aren’t many trees through there so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Why doesn’t that make me feel better?” Danny said sarcastically.

“You’ll be fine,” Tom reassured her. “Just give the horse her head and hold on. If it’s too bad, you can always get off and walk.”

Based on Danny’s expression, Ethan figured she’d be doing her fair share of hiking over the next two days. Two days…he smiled. Could they really be that close to finally being home at the ranch? The thought of sleeping in his own room and bed was enough to dispel the last of his anxiousness.

With Tom leading the way, they set a good pace and there wasn’t much talking for the first couple of hours. Grace would bark and chase after the occasional squirrel, but otherwise, they were surrounded by a pristine, raw landscape and profound silence.

As they traveled above what had to be more than five thousand feet, the trees thinned out and deer trails began to intersect with their own narrowing one, making it harder to define which was which.

“Be sure to keep an eye out for any herds,” Tom called back to Ethan as the sun rose higher and continued to dry out the foliage.

“Do you mean deer?” Danny asked.

Ethan twisted around in his saddle and rolled his eyes at her. “Why in the world would we look for deer when we can hunt elk?”

“Sorry,” Danny said, making a face back at him good-humoredly. “I’m not a hunter. I know how to shoot…I’m actually pretty good at it, but I’ve never shot an animal.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who don’t believe in it,” Tom said, sounding genuinely concerned.

Danny snorted. “Of course not! Even if I were, I think our current situation would trump any of my aversions to animal cruelty. We need to eat. If you teach me how, I’d be happy to bring Bambi…er, I mean, whatever you’d call an elk home for dinner.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten elk,” Sam said, from the back of the line. “I’ve heard it can be kind of gamey.”

“Depends,” Ethan said, enjoying the conversation. “If an elk is butchered and cooked right, it doesn’t taste gamey. It has a stronger flavor than beef, but I think it’s good.”

“We can also hunt for duck later this year, and black bears,” Tom added. “I’ve never gotten into tanning, but it might be something we should consider learning.”

Ethan frowned at that troubling observation. “You mean for our clothes and stuff?” He had a sudden, daunting image of them dressed in fur leggings and ponchos.

Tom chuckled and glanced over his shoulder at him. “I’m pretty sure we’ll be able to salvage plenty of other things for clothes before we resort to using hides. I was thinking more for rugs and leather. It’s going to be cold this winter, with only a fireplace to keep us warm. Some bear rugs on the floor would be nice. And you’d be amazed at how many uses you can come up with for leather.”

Ethan mulled it all over for a while. He wasn’t sure what he thought about it. The idea of living off the land had always been something he thought he’d enjoy. Now that he faced it and all of the different aspects of what it really meant, he wasn’t so sure it seemed as appealing.

Thinking about the luxuries of his previous lifestyle in the fancy home in Vegas made Ethan remember his mom. It wasn’t that he’d really forgotten about her, he just didn’t allow himself to think about her. It was too hard. Shifting in the saddle, Ethan tried to focus instead on the surrounding countryside, and any signs of elk. But his mom’s image kept creeping back into his thoughts. The details were already getting fuzzy. How could he not remember which cheek her mole was on? Or to which side she usually wore her bangs? The knowledge that his photo album waited safely tucked away at the bottom of his bag was the only thing that kept him from giving in again to the vise that was trying to tighten around his chest. He did have a picture. It was a few years old, but she really hadn’t changed much since it was taken. They’d been on a trip to the beach, a condo in Malibu his stepdad rented for a weekend. One of his many attempts to “bond” with Ethan.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the constant breeze on the beach, smell the salty air, and hear the gulls crying. He could hear his mother’s light, musical laughter, and the way she would always tell him that she loved him. The greatest love of her life, she would say, while holding him tight against her chest.

Lily took an extra step to clear a decent-sized log and Ethan was jerked back to the present. It was one full of unknowns and things that could be seen as either obstacles or opportunities. He supposed it was all in the way you looked at it.

Chapter 19

GENERAL MONTGOMERY

Norad Road, Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Colorado

General Andrew Montgomery stared out at the somewhat arid landscape of the Colorado Springs suburb. An impressive neighborhood of nice homes backed up against the base’s boundary. At least, it used to be impressive, before a third of it was ravaged by fire. The rest was now rapidly becoming overgrown and strewn with garbage and tents. He had a nice view of it all from his perch, partway up the mountain.

“I didn’t expect to find you this far up the road.” Colonel Walsh’s head appeared above the edge of the boulder he was sitting on.

Hanging his head, the general sighed and threw his hands up in the air. “And yet, find me you did.” He brushed some dirt from the stone next to him and then patted it. “Come on, have a seat. It’s really a lovely day.”

Walsh hesitated, appearing uncertain if his commander was being serious or not. When Montgomery continued to simply stare out over the valley, he scrambled the rest of the way up the rock and took the offered spot. “Your color is looking a little better.”

“The doctor insisted I come topside to get my vitamin D,” Montgomery said flatly. Tipping his face up towards the sun, he winced as if it were burning. “I take orders seriously. So, here I am.”

He saw Walsh frown, knowing that the younger man figured the comment was meant as a dig for some infraction he’d unknowingly committed. It wasn’t, of course. Walsh’s commitment to detail was admirable, though he never wanted his assistant to get too comfortable.

“The city is still burning,” he observed, leaving Walsh to guess what it was he might have done. “How long do you think it’ll last?”

“There’s a lot of fuel. It could smolder for weeks.”

The general mulled that over for a moment. “And what’s with the line of people at the gate? There are more than I thought there’d be by now.”

“They’re still mostly local residents,” Walsh answered. He pointed at the first gated entry to the complex, which was located several miles down Norad Road and past several parking lots and guard shacks. “We give them some water and re-direct them to either one of the local civilian shelters, or else FEMA CO1. Most are satisfied and seem relieved to finally have someone to tell them what to do.”

“And the altercation last night?” Montgomery stared into the sun again, intentionally avoiding eye contact with Walsh.

The colonel cleared his throat, a nervous gesture he’d developed over the years. “It was unfortunate, sir. Two armed men approached the gate and refused to identify themselves. They continued to demand entry and raised their weapons, forcing the guards to fire upon them. I left a full report on your desk.”

“I read it.” The general finally faced Walsh, his profile dark in the afterglow from the sun. “As I’m sure Vice Admiral Baker did, too.”

“So, you’ve heard of the rumors coming out of Albuquerque.”

“The admiral is doing a solid job of making sure everyone of importance hears those stories,” Montgomery growled, his sunshine-infused happiness rapidly fading. “He’s well aware the clinic was attacked by the group that had taken over the FEMA shelter, not our men. However, it would seem those details are getting left out.”

General Montgomery forced himself to take a breath of the fresh air, although slightly tinged with smoke, and got his emotions in check. He couldn’t let Vice Admiral Baker get to him. Instead, he focused on Walsh and why he’d sought him out. “Are you going to tell me why you’re sitting on the side of this mountain with me? Because I know it isn’t to discuss water-lines and rumors.”

“Governor Alicia Jenson,” Walsh said without any further preamble.

Montgomery frowned, trying to place the name. “The governor out of Idaho?”

“That’s the one,” Walsh confirmed.

“Why would I care about the governor of Idaho?”

Walsh cleared his throat again. “Because she’s invoking her right to appoint herself as the new senator for her state, and is calling upon the other remaining governors to do the same.”

It didn’t take Montgomery long to put it together. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. “If she can manage to get a quorum together, they can vote for a president pro tempore.” In the civilian government, the head of the senate, or the president pro tempore, was the third in succession for the presidency, after the Speaker of the House. If she succeeded in the gambit, they could legally appoint a new president.

General Montgomery had the utmost respect for their former administration. However, it was clear that the current attempt to usurp the military and their declaration of martial law was not in the best interest of the people.

Walsh wisely remained silent as the general thought about the possible scenarios. “Break down the numbers for me,” Montgomery demanded after a few minutes. His voice was curt and he’d lost any of his previous goodwill.

“Out of the nineteen viable states, we’ve had confirmed contacts with eleven of the governors, though one of those is Hawaii, so we won’t count her for now.” Walsh shifted uncomfortably on the hard rock, but his face remained neutral. “One of the senators for California was home on vacation during the flashpoint, so he’s the most likely candidate for the president pro tempore.”

Montgomery waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t care about who they are right now. I’ll leave it to you to worry about the politics and fill me in if it becomes necessary. For now, I want to know the logistics and the feasibility of them pulling this off.”

“Governor Jenson is trying to organize a meeting in southern Idaho for later next month.” Walsh hesitated, and the general lost his patience.

“If you have something more to tell me, then get on with it!” Montgomery stood slowly and looked down at the colonel. When he still failed to speak or even look up at him, he squatted next to Walsh, his uniform protesting the movement. “What is it, Kelly?”

Walsh stared out at the suburbs of Colorado Springs and gave his head a shake in disgust. “One of my men intercepted a message from Admiral Baker earlier this morning. He’s assisting Governor Jenson in her efforts, Sir.”

Montgomery wished he could say he was surprised, except that the news was almost expected. Actually, it would work out perfectly with his other…plans. A small smile played at the corners of his lips so he turned away from Walsh and walked across the top of the rock with his hands clasped behind his back. “Do you have any other morsels of information for me, Colonel?”

Walsh rose slowly and stood staring at the general’s back. “Just that reports of militia activity is increasing. It still isn’t anything that’s truly organized, but enough for Jenson and Baker to use to their advantage when carrying on about crimes against humanity.”

Montgomery turned his head to look back over his left shoulder. “Explain.”

“Governor Jenson’s ‘platform’, for lack of a better word, is that our mishandling of the military response is forcing civilians to take up arms to protect themselves.”

Montgomery snorted. “That’s ridiculous, and anyone with common sense will see that. But…” he paced the length of the rock again, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “Why make it easy for them?”

“Sir?” Walsh sounded wary.

“Calling these random bands of thugs militia is giving them too much credit,” Montgomery said thoughtfully. “Ignoring them isn’t an option, of course, but from now on, let’s call them what they really are. Terrorists. Begin daily bulletins, to be distributed and communicated to all active states, highlighting their crimes.”

Walsh pursed his lips and then nodded. “We start an aggressive campaign now, labeling them as terrorists and claiming their responsibility for the attacks being blamed on our men.”

General Montgomery knew he could count on his friend to rapidly connect the dots. “As militia, we’re allowing the admiral and Governor Jenson to use them as an excuse to bring the people together to fight against a blood-thirsty dictatorship. However, if they’re the ones using terrorists to push their cause, I would say that makes them a tyrant and a traitor, instead of revolutionaries. Wouldn’t you agree, Colonel?”

Walsh appeared uncomfortable again, though he held his tongue.

“When is the first convoy from Mount Weather due to arrive in Denver?” Montgomery asked, already working his new angle.

“Not until next week,” Walsh answered. “The logistics have proven incredibly difficult, but they’re still making reasonable progress.”

“Have one of the large caches delivered to Peterson as soon as possible.” Montgomery turned to look to where the Air Force base was located on the far side of Colorado Springs.

“Sir?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Colonel,” Montgomery chastised. “Assign no fewer than a dozen soldiers to work with the local civilian shelters to get them what they need. And have all of that garbage down there cleaned up. Dig a pit or something for it before the smell spreads. We can use Colorado Springs as an example of what we can accomplish once the dust has settled and we get the supplies dispersed. I want a detailed plan on how to get this city back under control.”

“Yes, sir. I already have a contact list for the local government. We’ve been able to locate a handful of them.”

Montgomery rubbed at his jaw as he considered the intel. “A committee.”

“A civilian committee?” Walsh pressed.

“Don’t politicians love committees?” The general smiled then as his idea continued to form. “I want you to personally approach the highest remaining civilian official in Colorado Springs, and request that he head a committee to work with us on how to rebuild their town.”

“That would be the mayor. You know, Mr. Fine?” Walsh frowned. “He’s made several attempts to speak with you since the flashpoint, sir.”

“Then he should be thrilled by this news,” Montgomery snapped. He had hoped to avoid any politics for a few more months, but he should have known it wouldn’t be possible. Even with martial law declared and the literal fate of the world hanging in the balance, there would be those of influence trying to jockey for a position of power. It was all a matter of smoke and mirrors, and knowing when and how to make a move. Fortunately, while the general despised politics, he was a master chess player.

“There was one more reason I came to find you,” Walsh said while looking back down the road, obviously eager to leave.

“I’m assuming it’s in regards to my new orders for Vice Admiral Baker?” Montgomery had expected it to be an issue.

“I’ve got them written up and am ready to deliver it, but…”

“I imagine he’ll make a scene,” Montgomery finished for the other man. “Yes, yes. I’m well aware of that, and how in light of these other recent events it might be seen as a form of retaliation. But you know what, Colonel?”

Colonel Walsh knew it was a rhetorical question, and kept his mouth shut.

“One of the benefits of being in command means I don’t always have to answer to someone,” the general said, his face more animated than usual. “If anyone wants to challenge my decision, they can write a formal complaint and I’ll be sure to give it my utmost attention.”

“He might refuse.” Walsh stood then and approached the general. “He could use this against you.”

“You make it sound as if this traitor has a backbone,” Montgomery spat. “I’ve known Baker for years and while he’s a big talker, if you remove his support, he’ll wither right before your eyes. Besides, I’m simply giving the man what he’s been demanding for the past two weeks. He wants us to actively get out there and intervene with the actions of these terrorists. So be it.”

“But a field assignment?” Walsh pushed. “It’s unheard of to have a vice admiral getting his boots muddy.”

“These are unusual times.” Montgomery jumped the few feet down from the rock and made his way to the gravel road he’d hiked up to reach it. Looking back, he waited for Walsh to catch up. “Vice Admiral Baker is barely fifty, Colonel. And he’s led men in the field for more years than most have even been in the military. If he’s so eager to cause dissent, then he can at least make some use of himself while he’s doing it.”

Walsh moved up alongside him, looking resigned. “Yes, sir. I’ll deliver the orders after lunch.”

“Take an armed escort with you,” Montgomery said as they began walking. He’d made another mistake by underestimating the threat the admiral posed. It was time to advance from the scrambling they’d been doing the past two weeks and focus more on the future.

It would, of course, be a travesty if the admiral were to find himself face-to-face with some of his “militia”.  General Montgomery stopped and squared his shoulders before barking out one final order. “Colonel, get that bastard out of my mountain.”

Chapter 20

JAMES
Master Sergeant, US Marines, 1st Force Reconnaissance

Butte, Montana

“So, who’s the asset, Sarge?” Jay leaned in close to James so he wouldn’t have to yell to be heard in the back of the helicopter.

James hadn’t been totally honest with the general when he said the mission would be the same as any other. He would carry out the op—that wasn’t an issue. It was the evasiveness toward the rest of his team that bothered him the most. 1st Force Recon was a family, in some ways even more so than a nuclear one. Keeping secrets from each other could end up getting them killed, so his orders didn’t sit well with him. Clenching his jaw, he didn’t meet his friend’s eyes. “Just another scientist.”

Jay sat back and stared at him until James finally turned his head to face him. “Come on, Terminator. We’ve known each other too long to pull this crap with each other.”

Using his handle was going back to their old days together in basics. James wasn’t sure why the information was so important to Jay. He didn’t usually care about the details so long as he was clear about his role. It was likely because he could tell James was acting differently, which made him nervous.

Sitting up straight, he did the only thing he could do. Pull rank. “Do we have a problem, Gunnery Sergeant Terrill?”

Jay’s face reddened and he glanced over at Lee and O’Grady, who were close enough to hear most of the exchange. “No, sir. I only thought it might help us avoid getting killed if we had a better idea this time of what we’re walking into.”

“My understanding is that we’re making entry into a two-story wooden structure located in the middle of an upper middle-class suburb in Butte,” Sergeant O’Grady rattled off.

“Shut up, Lucas,” Jay barked, clearly not in the mood to joke around. “I’m more interested in the who and why, rather than the where.”

“You know everything you need to,” James said gruffly while leveling Jay with a look that made it clear the discussion was over. At some point, he’d be able to explain the whole mess to his best friend and get his valued input, but not yet. He was under strict orders and he was a soldier first, above all else.

“At least we learned something from our op in Albuquerque,” Corporal Flores said with optimism, while pointing at a crate full of bottled water.

James smiled and then jerked his chin toward Jay. “It was a good idea, Sergeant.”

“Just a simple slight of hand,” Jay replied, still sullen.

Unlike the necessarily direct approach they had to make at the military base, the rural neighborhood offered several more options. The houses sat on lots from a quarter to a full acre in size, and had several greenbelts they would make good use of. It was currently around lunchtime, so they didn’t have the advantage of an early morning or late-night operation, but they shouldn’t need it.

The latest report coming out of the smaller town was that there was plenty of unrest and the usual anarchy and destruction. However, without any large targets of interest, such as a military base or FEMA shelter, it wasn’t considered a hot zone. Easy pickings for a team of highly trained Marines.

Four of the men would INFIL at the nearest greenbelt, while Helo One then transported Alphas Five and Six to the opposite side of town. From there, they would draw any attention away from the insert team by dropping water and bags of peanuts. The rations had been Jay’s idea, and it was a good one. It not only helped with their mission, but also allowed them to give some aid and leave a better impression. They were all aware of the rumors surrounding their last op. It didn’t matter if they were true or not, just that people were saying it.

Five clicks.

The pilot’s voice cut into his thoughts as it filtered through his headset and James made a wind-up motion with his hand. The other five men in the back of the helo moved almost in unison, like a well-choreographed dance. Donning the rest of their FSBE—full spectrum battle equipment—and TASC communication gear, they then quickly and methodically went through their final checks.

Amidst a flurry of hand signals, James moved aft to the open door and waited as they approached the INFIL point. If the maps proved accurate, there would be a field more than big enough to accommodate them near the greenbelt. Resting a hand on his M4, James studied the landscape slipping by as they swooped in. It was the same as any other city they’d seen. Fires still burned and groups of people milled about. He didn’t see any sign of an organized, armed force, or large encampments that were obvious. As they slid over the tops of a row of houses, he recognized the neighborhood and had to take a second calming breath, before giving the order.

“Go, go, go,” James spoke into his headset while also motioning to his team, and he was the first to leap from the helo as it hovered several feet above the grassy field. Landing in a crouch, he then moved forward cautiously, not taking anything about their situation for granted.

As the four soldiers ambled swiftly toward the belt of evergreens, James once again contemplated the viability of the op. The reality was if the asset didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. His training was just as rigorous as the 1st Force Recon Unit…maybe more. The fact that he’d fallen off the radar after one soft contact spoke volumes to James. He didn’t understand it, but trusted that the man had his reasons. Good ones.

Once under the cover of the trees, the men stood and ran at a swifter pace, covering the quarter mile in a matter of minutes. By the time they reached the far side that butted up against several wooden fence lines, marking private backyards, Helo One could be seen hovering above what must have been the far side of town.

“Alpha One to Helo One,” James said, eying the bird.

Go for Helo One.

“Helo One, what’s your SITREP?”

Helo One is over our target site. Ready to drop the package. Drawing some attention but no Tango contact.

“That’s a hard copy, Helo One. Closing in on position two.”

James moved up to the five-foot wooden fence and peered into the yard. He didn’t recognize it, but the one next to it was familiar. Raising his right hand, James motioned to the house on their left and then crept the length of the fence to where it met with the other homes thick hedge.

Leaping over the lower barrier, the four soldiers jogged silently across the grass. A dog barked from somewhere up the block and a baby could be heard crying. A sudden scraping sound nearby caused James to spin and drop to a knee.

“Hey!” a man cried in alarm. He had just come out his patio door, dressed in dirty shorts and bare-chested. Aside from a bottle of beer, he was empty-handed and clearly not a threat. Throwing his hands up, he dropped the beer, and stared wide-eyed at the soldiers.

“Get back inside!” James ordered, eying the spilled beer. What a waste.

As the terrified neighbor did as he was told, James continued into the next yard. He wasn’t too concerned about the unexpected contact, since short of running outside and yelling, there wasn’t any way to communicate to anyone that he had seen them. Plus, there was a very real chance that the guy would be hiding in his closet for a while.

“Alpha One to Helo One,” James spoke into his headset as he approached the sliding glass door of the target house.

Go for Helo One.

“We’ve reached position two. Making entry.”

Helo One copies. Still no Tango contact. The natives are happily distributing the goods.

James tried the door. Confirming it was locked, he took a step back and nodded at Alpha Three. Moving forward, the other man made quick work of the lock and then stepped aside.

“Alphas Three and Four, you hold the perimeter,” James directed. “Alpha Two, you’re with me.”

Jay exchanged a quick look with the other two men, but no one commented on the change in the approach. James was counting on his men’s trust to carry them through the mission, and hopefully, to salvage their friendship afterward.

“Clear!” Jay called from the nearest room as James moved toward the front of the house. They would conduct a standard sweep pattern, but he already knew what the result would be. There obviously wasn’t anyone there and likely hadn’t been since before the flashpoint. If the asset had made it back after the event, the house would have been fortified and they certainly wouldn’t have gained entry so easily.

He heard Jay climbing the stairs to the second floor where there were two bedrooms and two baths. The bottom floor contained a guest room, family room, and office, in addition to the large country kitchen.

James traveled stoically through the space, going through the steps robotically and without emotion. Making quick work of it, he ended at the threshold to the office. A large wooden desk sat facing the French doors, an inviting bay window behind it. The two side walls were covered with built-in bookcases, and the floor had a thick accent rug with warm colors. The only other furniture was an overstuffed leather chair positioned near one of the walls. There was a small side table next to it with a darkened Tiffany lamp. When lit, it would have been inviting for someone to sit and read one of the hundreds of books. Now, it stood as a form of mockery. An expensive piece of artwork that might never shed light again.

Master Sergeant James Campbell stood with his hand on the frame of the doorway, one foot in the office. He knew how misleading the room was. That it portrayed a man of silent intelligence. Perhaps a college professor or some other literary powerhouse who wielded a pen instead of a sword. James knew the truth.

Moving with more resolve, he crossed to the desk. Filtered light from the bay window revealed that amongst several other items, there was a closed laptop and an empty notepad next to it. Pushing the desk chair aside, James crouched down and began sorting through the meaningless clutter until he found what he was looking for. Picking up the calendar, he grimaced when he saw the highlighted days for the week of the flashpoint. The asset was on vacation for several days prior to, and during the event.

Raising a finger to trace the hastily scribbled notes that riddled the paper, James didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved to know the asset wasn’t there. Dropping the calendar onto the laptop, he picked them both up. The computer was likely fried, but the technicians at Cheyenne Mountain might be able to salvage something off the hard drive.

“Alpha One to Alpha Team, the asset has flown the coop. Move to EXFIL.”

Before James could get around the desk, Sergeant Terrill walked into the office, looking unhappy. “Well, this was a freaking waste of time, Sarge.”

“Maybe not,” James answered, hefting the laptop. “We might be able to figure out where he is.” As Jay advanced further into the room, James attempted to cut him off while gesturing back the way they’d come. “Let’s get out of here.”

It must have been too much, because his friend paused, and after staring questioningly at him, took a second look around the office. Casually running a hand along the nearest bookshelf, Jay accidentally knocked a couple of pictures onto the floor. Bending to pick them up, he happened to glance down at the image as he stood.

James snatched the photograph away from him, but he knew it was too late. “I said let’s move out.”

Jay put a hand up to stop him, and then pointed at the picture. “Not until you tell me what the hell is going on, James! Who is that man? What’s your connection to the asset?”

James turned the frame over and stared at the image. It had been taken on their annual hunting trip two years earlier. “He’s my dad.”

Chapter 21

DANNY

Miner’s Trail, Near Mercy, Montana

If Danny hadn’t been so terrified of falling off the side of the mountain, she would have enjoyed the incredible scenery more.

“I think we’d be better off riding mountain goats,” Sam called out from his spot at the back of the line. Every time Danny looked at him, the older man had his eyes closed.

“How do the cows get through here?” Ethan asked. He’d been full of curiosity and questions about so many things that Danny had been entertained by the ongoing conversation between him and Tom for most of the morning. It helped take her mind off the fact that she couldn’t feel her fingers anymore due to her constant grip on the reins.

“They do surprisingly well on steep terrain,” Tom answered without turning around. “I’ve never taken a cow through here, though. I’ve only ridden it. It’s much easier to…or, I should say that it used to be easier to simply haul the cattle in a truck. There’s a good chance we’ll get to find out exactly how they manage it if we organize a drive with Jesper.”

“Cool,” Ethan cooed.

“No, not cool,” Sam echoed. “Sorry, Tom, you’ll have to count me out of that adventure.”

Tom chuckled and twisted in his saddle to call back to Sam, “I won’t hold it against you!” Tango chose that moment to balk at a particularly large rock in the path.

Danny gasped as she watched Tom’s lightning-fast reflexes and expert riding skills save him from a horrible fall. The ground to their right sloped down at a stomach-clenching incline and was littered with large, jagged outcroppings and sparse trees.

“Whoa!” Ethan whooped, as his dad got firmly situated in his saddle again. “Nice recovery. I’ll give ya a nine-point-five. Lost half a point for the cursing.”

Danny couldn’t believe they were joking about it. If that had been Ethan riding Tango…she shook her head, unable to fathom it. While his arm seemed to be doing better than the night before, he still favored it. She was nervous for him, even though he was on the mild-mannered Lily.

As her own horse approached and then carefully stepped around the same rock that nearly unseated Tom, Danny debated dismounting and hiking for a while. She’d already done it once and it didn’t really seem to slow them down much. While she wanted to get to Mercy as badly as everyone else, she preferred to be in one piece.

An eagle cried out from somewhere near the ridgeline on their left and another one answered, circling high above. The valley spread out below them was steep and narrow, but she could see a small stream and plenty of dense foliage nestled at the bottom. With the jagged peaks jutting up from all sides, it was the most breathtaking country Danny had ever been in, and she’d done her fair share of hiking in the Rockies.

Tom Miller was in his element. Whether it was due to the safety of the mountains, or his concussion improving, he was much more relaxed and quicker to smile. Perhaps it was a combination of the two, though it really didn’t matter why. Danny was just relieved to see his mood improving and the interaction between him and Ethan increasing. It was good that they would have each other to lean on once they got home.

Home. Danny wasn’t sure what the word meant to her anymore. In spite of the years she’d lived in Helena, her small apartment near the fire department had never really felt like home. She’d be okay if she never went back. But was Mercy home? Her father’s house was a small, one-bedroom cabin. The few times Danny spent the night, she’d slept on the couch. She certainly wasn’t going to complain about the accommodations after everything they’d been through, but when thinking about the long-term, and where she belonged? It was hard for Danny to wrap her brain around the concept. Maybe that was why she was feeling more anxious, instead of relieved, as the miles fell behind them on the trail. As hard as the past two weeks had been, she at least had a clear goal and purpose. Part of that was bringing her dad the heart medication she knew he needed, and she was going to fail at even that. Knowing how the lack of medicine would determine her dad’s future weighed heavily on Danny.

Grace’s barking interrupted Danny’s thoughts and she dared to shift in the saddle to seek her out. The retriever wasn’t bothered at all by the terrain, and had found a new favorite rodent to chase up any tree she could find. Tom called them marmots, another animal she’d never seen before. About the size of a small beaver, they looked like overgrown guinea pigs. Or maybe more like a prairie dog, Danny hadn’t quite decided. Grace was apparently determined to catch one, much to Sam’s despair. His horse didn’t like barking dogs and every time she picked up another trail, the mare would snort and toss her head. Though she remained sure-footed, Sam was convinced he was going to be thrown off at any moment.

“Grace!” Danny scolded, preempting Sam’s pleas. “Come! Get back here, girl. Leave it! Leave the little rat thing alone!”

“It’s not a rat,” Ethan laughed.

“Close enough,” Sam said, holding tightly to the saddle horn.

The trail began to dip down towards the bottom of the valley and Danny got her first good look at the next few miles they’d be traversing. She heard Sam moan from behind her as he saw it, too. It appeared that they would cross at the bottom and then up and over the other side.

“Once we get over that ridge,” Tom said while pointing at the distant peak, “it’s not nearly as steep. That’s the point where I normally turned around. I’ve only been this far one other time.”

“How much farther from there to Mercy?” Sam asked.

Tom removed his cowboy hat and scratched at his mop of overgrown black hair. “It’s been a couple of years, and I was hunting then, so wasn’t really paying attention to the actual time on the trail. I’d guess, so long as we don’t get held up by anything, that it shouldn’t take more than a couple of days.”

“Two days?” Ethan moaned. “I thought it was more like one.”

“This stretch is a little longer than I thought it was,” Tom admitted. “We’ll be lucky to make it out of here before we have to make camp tonight. It might not be a whole two days, Ethan, but I don’t want to underestimate it, either. It’s not like I’ve got GPS to guide us.”

They were already starting down what looked like the scariest part of the path and Danny tried to focus on the far side of the ravine and the flatter ground Tom promised was on the other side. A small rockslide skittered ahead of them, disrupted by the horses, and the sound of the rocks hitting far below made odd, hollow echoes.

“Uh-uh,” Danny said, unable to stomach it any longer. Reining her horse in, she gingerly slung a leg over and dropped precariously to the uneven ground. “I can’t do it.”

Tom glanced back without comment, but Ethan didn’t have a problem giving her a hard time. “Come on, Danny! You’re a firefighter. I thought you’re supposed to be brave.”

“There’s a difference between brave and stupid,” Danny said without much humor. “Sort of similar to running into a burning building. You only do it if there’s a life that needs saving, and it’s safe enough to do it. This? I’d compare it to running into an empty, burning building without any bunker gear on.”

“An excellent analogy,” Sam agreed, also sliding from his horse.

“Besides,” Danny added as she started leading the horse, already feeling better with her feet on solid ground. “I don’t have anything to prove. I never claimed to be a…horsewoman. Or, whatever it is you call a woman that rides a horse. A cowgirl?”

Ethan laughed.

“Cowgirl is fine,” Tom offered, and Danny could tell he was trying not to laugh too.

She didn’t mind being their source of entertainment, so long as it meant she didn’t have to worry about meeting a rocky demise.

After an hour of constant descent, the ground eventually started to flatten out and trees began to offer more shelter from the sun. It was back in full force after the storm from the day before, and the stream would offer a welcome break.

Danny and Sam were a few minutes behind, so when they finally reached the bottom, they found Tom waiting for them, still on Tango. Ethan had already dismounted and had a fishing pole in the water.

“What’s wrong?” Danny asked when she saw the look on Tom’s face. She didn’t think he would be irritated with them for lagging behind.

Tom pointed without comment to the south, straight down the narrow valley. Danny could see several thin columns of white smoke in the distance. It couldn’t be more than a couple of miles away.

“What are you thinking?” Sam asked when he spotted it.

“That we should check it out.” Tom dismounted in one smooth motion and did some quick stretches while he spoke. “This close to Mercy, I’d like to know who’s up here. There’s at least three fires burning, so it’s more than a survivor or two.”

“You don’t think the military would be trying to set up a FEMA camp in a remote area like this?” Danny asked, her heartbeat speeding up at the thought.

“Dillinger knows about Mercy,” Sam reminded them. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Tom squinted against the sun and continued to stare at the smoke. “No,” he finally said with a shake of his head. “That wouldn’t make sense. Even as stupid as Dillinger is, he wouldn’t send his men randomly into the mountains. I know a lot of the folks around here who might come into these hills. It’s most likely a group of survivors banding together. They might need some help or have useful information.”

“I’ll go with you,” Danny offered. When Sam raised his eyebrows at her, she felt herself getting defensive. “What? It would be dumb for him to go by himself. You and Ethan both need to rest, and you can catch us dinner and filter some water while we’re gone.”

“She’s right,” Tom agreed. “We’ll leave the horses and Grace,” he added, bending down to pet the dog. “Sorry, girl, but we don’t want to announce our arrival.”

After a brief debate with Ethan about why he couldn’t go, Tom and Danny left on foot with only some water and their sidearms. Since Jesper gave them some ammunition, the guns were once again more than just visual deterrents. Tom estimated it wouldn’t take more than a half hour or so to reach the other camp and they wanted to move quickly.

“You must be excited about seeing your dad,” Tom said after they’d gone a couple hundred feet.

Danny didn’t answer right away, deciding it was okay to be honest with him. “I am, but I’m also nervous.”

Tom glanced over at her, surprised. “Really? Why would you be nervous?”

“I’m not really sure,” she said slowly. “I think it’s because I didn’t manage to get the beta blockers he needs for his heart.” Tom didn’t say anything in response, and she was thankful for his silence. “Without the meds, he’ll eventually be a walking time bomb just waiting to have another heart attack.”

“So, you’re scared to be around him because it might mean being there to watch him die,” Tom said bluntly.

Danny’s steps faltered and she stopped, staring at him. She wasn’t sure if she was offended or simply shocked that he saw through her so plainly.

Tom didn’t apologize, and instead offered her a crooked grin. “I think we’re more alike than you realize.” Gesturing at her to keep moving, they fell back into step together. “When my dad got sick, I was devastated,” Tom continued. “I saw him frequently, of course, but as the end drew near…I couldn’t handle seeing him that way. I wasn’t there the day he died and it’s something I’ve regretted ever since.”

“Weren’t you living at the farm?” Danny asked, unsure of what else to say.

“No. I got married when I was just twenty and got coaxed into moving to Helena.”

“Helena?” Danny asked, confused. She assumed he’d always lived at Miller Ranch and couldn’t picture the rugged, cowboy-hat-wearing cattleman living in the city.

Tom grinned again and Danny found herself helpless to smile back. “My wife wanted to go to college and although I loved the farm, I’d also always dreamed of what life outside of Mercy was like. Well, I found out. I worked construction for years, while my wife got a good career in architecture.”

Danny didn’t know why, but she found it weird to hear Tom talk about his wife. For some reason, she hadn’t thought he’d been married. “I guess I had this picture in my head that you always had the perfect family life,” Danny admitted. “I was even jealous. I hardly know my mom. She’s been an alcoholic my whole life and went to live with her parents in Hawaii after Dad divorced her when I was a teen.”

The words were out of her mouth before she even realized it, and Danny almost got her hand up fast enough to stop it. She was left embarrassed and wondering why in the world she just shared a part of herself with Tom that even her closest friends didn’t know about.

Tom stopped her with a hand on her arm. When Danny forced herself to look at him, she was relieved to see that he wasn’t staring at her with pity but the same ole easygoing expression he always wore. “My mom loved my dad fiercely, and although I didn’t appreciate it at the time, I had a great childhood,” he said. “It took making my own mistakes to figure out what I had in Mercy, so I didn’t hesitate to go back when Mom asked me to. Ethan’s mom didn’t see things the same way, and that was okay. Our relationship had already been over for a while at that point. My only regret is not being a bigger part of Ethan’s life for the past five years.”

Danny found herself leaning into his hand. She was coming to understand that Tom was the kind of man whose word you could trust, and he could handle the weight of his friend’s problems. And Danny really needed that kind of friend.

A blood-curdling scream cut through the air, startling them both. Jumping, Danny’s hand went automatically to her holster, and she saw Tom’s do the same. It sounded like it came from the same direction as the smoke. Another scream quickly followed, confirming it wasn’t that far away.

Tom raised a finger to his lips and then cautiously crept forward. Danny kept close to him, her heart racing and breath coming in quick gasps. Whatever was happening in that camp, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

They moved soundlessly through the dense trees that lined the creek, and after a few hundred more feet, saw the first of the tents. Tom grabbed at Danny’s hand and pulled her down behind a large fallen tree. It was likely uprooted the night before during the storm, and there was still fresh mud around it. Ignoring the muck, Danny pushed up against it while peeking through its branches.

“I count six tents,” Tom whispered close to her ear. “At least eight men with a couple of rifles, and three fires.”

Danny nodded silently. The men she could see definitely weren’t military, but she didn’t see any women or children, either. There were only two horses tied up on the far side of the clearing they were using, and they were muddy and worn out. All of the men were filthy.

Another scream filled the miserable camp and that was when Danny noticed the man tied to a tree, near the center of it all. A larger man had been standing in front of him, blocking him from their view. As he stepped aside, Danny gasped.

“He isn’t gonna tell us anything,” someone shouted from the other side of the fire, close to where the prisoner was tied up. “Same as his friend. Just finish it, would ya? I’m tired of listening to his hollerin’.”

As he’d been talking, the man gestured toward the horses, and Danny realized that what she’d thought were bags, was actually a body. She assumed the two horses belonged to the prisoner and dead man.

As Danny watched, the larger man revealed the knife he’d been using to administer small cuts to the prisoner’s face. Holding the point to the man’s right eye, he shouted at him. “If you want to keep your eye, this is your last chance! Where did you get these horses? What’s the Pony Express?”

“I already told you, I’m not military! I’m just from our small town—”

“Argh!” the executioner growled in rage, and flipping the knife around, moved it swiftly towards the man’s throat.

Danny’s brain went on autopilot. Without even thinking, she started to lunge forward, intent on stopping the carnage and saving the poor man’s life. Before she could make it over the log, strong arms wrapped her up from behind and hauled her backwards, pinning her to the ground.

It took only a moment for her brain to catch up to her raw emotions, and she knew it was helpless. They were far outnumbered and probably out-armed. Danny stopped struggling against Tom. His eyes, green and intense, were only inches from hers and they begged her to be silent. Fortunately, the scream that had been building in her chest never ripped free, and she instead choked it back with a sob.

Tom’s hands moved from her arms to her face, and he pulled her up against his chest as she cried. “What have we become?” she gasped into his shirt, as terrified by the fact that they couldn’t do anything to stop it as she was by what they’d seen.

“It’s okay,” Tom assured her, still holding on with an iron grip. “We’ll be in Mercy soon and this will all be over. We can stop running.”

“Can we?” she asked. Pulling back, Danny looked into his eyes again, searching for some sort of redemption. “How can we ever be sure of who we are, after everything we’ve done?”

Danny looked away then, defeated. “I was already running long before the flashpoint ever hit.”

Chapter 22

CHLOE

Medical Clinic, Mercy, Montana

“I guess this means you won’t be able to do much do-si-doing at the dance?” Crissy teased, while holding Trevor’s hand.

He was propped up on one of the cots that had been set up in the makeshift clinic inside Mercy’s combination elementary/high school. Though Trevor’s face was banged up and he had several visible scrapes and bruises on his hands and arms, it was his left leg that took the brunt of the fall.

Dr. Olsen used words like “miraculous” and “lucky” to describe the accident scene and how Trevor had escaped with nothing worse than a severely broken leg. Apparently, he’d managed to leap from the opposite side of the wagon as it made its fateful plunge over the edge.

When she and Crissy got to the clinic to see him the night before, he’d been unconscious from all the morphine the doc had shot him up with. Chloe was already irritated at that point, since they’d sped there thinking he was about to die. Then, the storm hit before they could leave and trapped them in the clinic for hours.

While Chloe didn’t hesitate to return with Crissy that afternoon, she was already testy. Her patience was running short and she really needed to get back to the farm to help with the cleanup from the storm. Sandy and Bishop risked their lives the night before to secure the herd, and several of them still broke through the fence when a tree blew over and took out a section. They’d been out all day trying to round them up, and the rest of the chores weren’t getting done.

A coughing fit drew Chloe’s attention to a man on a cot across the room. Next to him was a young girl hooked up to IV fluids. She was constantly moaning, and her parents were sitting to either side of her, attempting in vain to console her. Chloe knew that she had what Dr. Olsen suspected was appendicitis. She had overheard a debate between the doctor and her only nurse as to whether they should risk surgery, and their decision to try the antibiotics first. That led to another conversation about how low they were on the medication.

Several other beds were occupied by a mix of elderly and young patients who had run out of various drugs and couldn’t function anymore. “Insulin” was a word spoken often, as were “pain medicine”, “psych meds”, and “steroids”. Chloe’s greatest takeaway from her visits at the clinic was that she prayed she never got sick. She didn’t know how Trevor could stand to volunteer all of his time there. Give her a hungry cow and a dirty horse stall any day.

“I’m afraid Trevor won’t be doing much of anything on his feet for at least two weeks,” Dr. Olsen said as she approached his bed. “Not even with the help of crutches. Total bedrest until then. I managed to reset the bone, but it should have been surgically pinned back into place. If he moves it too much, it won’t heal right.”

“You should have seen it!” Trevor exclaimed, his face becoming animated. “The bone was totally sticking up out of the skin. Like, you could see the bone!” he emphasized, poking his index finger up and wiggling it like it was his leg bone. “I didn’t think bones were literally white like that.”

“Ugh,” Crissy moaned, pushing his hand back down onto his lap. “Would you please stop talking about it? Or I’m seriously going to throw up on you.”

“It’s too bad you didn’t hit your head instead,” Chloe joked, poking him in the skull. “There would have been a lot less damage.”

Trevor screwed up his nose and made a face at her, but there was a wariness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Chloe suspected he saw a lot worse than his leg at the accident, and he was partially coping by focusing on his own injures instead.

“Not too much talking,” Dr. Olsen cautioned before leaving the three of them alone. “I don’t want his asthma stirred up any more than it is. We’re running low on inhalers.”

Chloe eyed the small blue medication dispenser that sat on the table next to his bed. It scared her to think of what would happen once it ran out. Her stomach clenched. There weren’t any labs anywhere producing more medicine, or pharmacies that were open to go buy it from. Once it was gone…

“Don’t worry,” Crissy was saying playfully, still holding Trevor’s hand. “I’ll save you a dance for next time.”

Trevor smiled and then looked shyly at Crissy. “Promise not to dance with anyone else?”

Chloe saw it then. The way Crissy was holding his hand and how she leaned in closer when Trevor spoke. The naturally flirty girl wasn’t just teasing him. At some point, she’d developed real feelings for Trevor, and he obviously felt the same way. It had probably started as just some sort of end-of-the-world infatuation, and then flourished in the closed society that Mercy had turned into.

Chloe sat back, stunned by the revelation, and not really understanding why. She wasn’t jealous. She had absolutely no romantic interest in or feelings for Trevor. Chloe really couldn’t even fathom how Crissy was interested in the young, often irritating teen.

But clearly, she was. Another round of light giggles punctuated her thoughts and Chloe had to resist the urge to run from the room. They were both her friends. Her best friends, so she would figure out a way to deal with it. She looked at their hands again, clasped together, and realized that perhaps it was the closeness she envied.

Over the past week, Chloe had become so absorbed in the work on the farm that she was distancing herself…no, insulating herself from everyone around her. It was easier that way. She desperately missed her parents and was afraid of getting too close to anyone else. They all ended up leaving her in the end, anyway.

Mortified she was about to start crying, Chloe tried to think of a way to excuse herself without being obvious, but her brain wasn’t cooperating as the intense emotions swelled. Instead, she turned to her old friend, anger. It was such an easier emotion and she slipped gratefully into its dark embrace.

“Didn’t three people die yesterday?” Chloe hissed, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t think we should be talking about dances and making light of the whole situation.”

When Crissy turned to glare at her, the shock on her friend’s face was enough to subdue Chloe, and the shame that followed was as familiar to her as the anger.

Embarrassed, Chloe stood and turned away, hoping that no one else had witnessed the exchange. To her dismay, the new pastor, of all people, was standing only two beds away, apparently praying over someone.

He was staring straight at her, and not even trying to be polite and hide the fact that he had overheard the whole thing. She averted her eyes from his and stared at his hands instead, figuring he was holding a Bible or cross, or something equally religious. Instead, it looked like some sort of syringe and he quickly stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt. Wasn’t a priest supposed to wear robes?

Chloe looked back up at his face to confirm that it was, in fact, the same Father Rogers they’d been introduced to when they first arrived at the clinic the day before. It had been a chaotic scene and there were a lot of upset people running around, but Chloe never forgot a face.

Especially not his, which was very distinct with his poster-boy jawline, thick blond hair, and striking green eyes. He smiled at her then, one she had no doubt was meant to be disarming. However, there was something about the man that made Chloe’s skin crawl, and her eyes narrowed with disdain instead of friendliness.

Her humiliating scene forgotten, Chloe stood frozen by the exchange, and as his smile turned into a sneer, the crawling sensation spread from her stomach and traveled up her spine.

Chapter 23

RUSSELL

Mercy Parish, Mercy, Montana

Russell was expecting the knock at the back door of his church apartment. The timing couldn’t have been any better, since he’d just set the tea kettle on top of the woodstove to boil.

Another round of insistent knocking erupted as he casually made his way to the door, whistling under his breath as he went. Everyone was always in a rush, even the old priest. You’d think the end of the world would encourage people to slow down a little and spend more time enjoying the small things. Someone should caution Father White that all that stress was bad for his health.

Grinning, Russell opened the door with a flourish, revealing Father White with his hand raised, ready to knock again. “Father!” Russell gushed, pulling the door open all the way and stepping aside. “Please, come in.”

“I can’t stay long,” the older man grumbled as he ambled inside.

The back door opened into the kitchen and both men took a seat opposite each other at a small wooden table.  The woodstove glowed nearby, the wood inside audibly cracking and popping. With a pillar candle burning on the counter, pushing back the shadows as the sun began to set outside, it was a cozy setting. “What brings you by?” Russell asked, clasping his hands in front of him on the table.

“I’m going to get straight to the point and keep this brief,” Father White said without any preamble. “While I appreciate your situation and what you’ve been through, I don’t feel you are the right man to help guide the congregation of Mercy.” The old priest cleared his throat and shifted on the wooden chair. “You’re welcome to stay here in the apartment until you can find proper accommodations, of course.”

Russell hung his head in contrition, enjoying the role-playing. “I thank you for your generosity, Father.” Looking up, he saw the surprise on the pastor’s face and felt a small rush of excitement as his plot unfolded exactly as he’d foreseen it. “I have been doing a lot of soul-searching these past few days that I’ve been in Mercy and I have to say that I agree with you. I’m not currently in the right frame of mind to conduct the work of God.”

“Well, I…um, I’m glad to hear that you’ve come to the same conclusion.” Father White was clearly flustered by the conversation. Apparently, he hadn’t prepared the proper speech. “Perhaps with time, you will find your way back to the word of God.”

Tilting his head slightly, Russell pursed his lips and then nodded slowly, as if taking the wise words to heart. “Perhaps.”

The kettle began to whistle and Russell’s head jerked up as if he’d forgotten he had put it on. “Oh! I was about to have some tea, Father. Won’t you join me?”

When the priest hesitated, Russell was excited by the extra challenge, rather than concerned he might leave. “I found a lovely blend in the cupboard, as well as some sugar. And I would appreciate some guidance as to what scripture I should study while dealing with my internal conflict.”

The request for mentorship was something Father White couldn’t say no to, and as Russell expected, he was flattered by the request. “Certainly, Father Rogers. If you would fetch me a pen and paper, I’d be happy to give you a list.”

Minutes later, as the tea steeped and Father White was distracted by his list-making, Russell stood at the counter and added the liquid antihistamine to his cup. He wasn’t sure if the berry-flavored medication would be enough to do much, but it would have to do. His options were extremely limited and it was the only liquid sedative he could identify at the clinic in the brief time he’d had.

When the herbal tea was added, it smelled like any other concoction and he figured the priest would write off any odd taste as a cheap brand and lack of cream. He placed the cup silently in front of the other man, as he continued to write, not wanting to interrupt his train of thought.

Ten minutes later, the cup was empty, the sheet of paper was nearly full of scriptures, and Father White was rubbing at his eyes. “My goodness, it’s barely past dinner time and I’m afraid I’m already needing a bed.”

Russell removed the teacups and carried them to the sink. With his back to the room, he wordlessly took out the preloaded syringe from his sweatshirt pocket and popped off the protective cap.

“It’s completely understandable,” Russell replied as he turned around. “You’re a frail, elderly man who’s been sick with radiation poisoning for two weeks. Why, you could drop dead at any moment and no one would think much of it.”

As Russell moved up behind him, Father White’s hands froze, pen in hand, when he grasped what the other man had said. “Why would you say—”

Russell moved quickly, jabbing the hypodermic needle into the other man’s right shoulder and injecting him with at least a couple of milligrams of morphine before Father White could bat it away with his sluggish reflexes.

“Ouch!” Rubbing at his shoulder and lurching to his feet, the priest knocked his chair over as he clumsily spun around to face his attacker. “What…what in the world are you doing?” He blinked twice, slowly, and then staggered sideways a couple of steps.

Russell dropped the syringe and removed another from his pocket. The subcutaneous injection of morphine was only a means to compound the old man’s sedation. He would have preferred to have done it without the extra aid, but it was critical that there be no outward signs of a struggle.

As the potent opioid was slowly absorbed, it combined with the antihistamine, enhancing its effects. The look of confusion on Father White’s face turned to anger and then fear. He reached out blindly at the table for support, his legs beginning to buckle. “What are you?” he groaned, looking up at Russell, his eyes wide and pupils pinpoints.

Methodically removing the cap from the new needle, Russell considered the question carefully before answering. Bending over so that his face was close to the priest’s, he spoke deliberately, making sure the other man understood him. “The meek shall inherit the earth.”

Before Father White could react, Russell slid around behind him. Reaching up with his left hand, he grasped the taller man’s forehead, anchoring his elbow against his shoulder to put him in a modified sort of headlock. Pulling his dazed victim back into his chest to brace him, he reached around with the syringe and lined it up precisely with the carotid artery in his neck. Though an extremely efficient way of administering a lethal dose of drugs, it was also quite tricky. Fortunately, he’d spent some time in the past perfecting the technique.

With the needle in place, Russell slowly injected the morphine while using nearly all of his strength to hold the man still. Father White moaned against the pain of the large dose coursing through his body and kicked out with the last throes of life.

“Shhhh,” Russell murmured, his mouth against his victim’s ear. “Don’t fight it. Soon, you’ll simply stop breathing and cease to exist.”

His mind already moving on to what other steps he had left to complete, Russell waited patiently, staring at the woodstove over the top of Father White’s gray head. Once several hours had passed, when it was well past dark, he would carry the priest’s body the short distance across the yard and into his house. There, he would arrange him so that when found the next day, it would appear that he’d simply died in his sleep.

The syringe wouldn’t leave a noticeable mark and Russell had a bottle of pain pills to place on the nightstand, which should provide the doctor with enough of an excuse for the Father’s small pupils. That was, if the pupils remained contracted after death, due to the medication. Russell wasn’t sure if they would dilate the way they normally did and it was a curiosity for him. Perhaps he could find a way to be there when the doctor arrived, so he could get the answer firsthand. After all, he was working with the charming doctor now. That was how he’d been able to acquire the morphine.

A gasping sound reminded Russell that he still had more immediate matters to attend to. Releasing Father White from his hold, he supported his limp body and lowered him carefully to the floor. His color already ashen, he was quickly succumbing to the suppression of his central nervous system, with the respiratory drive the first to go.

While Father White lay dying, the final dregs of air being sucked into his lungs with each hard-fought breath, Russell crouched over him. A hand to either side of his body, he leaned in until their cheeks almost touched. “Don’t worry, Father. I’ll tend to your flock. I have some very special plans for them.”

Chapter 24

TOM

Lewis & Clark National Forest, near Mercy, Montana

The climb leading up out of the valley had been a somber one. They intentionally waited until the sun started to slip below the ridgeline so they would be in the shadows, and less visible to anyone in the valley who might be looking up. The last thing they needed was for the group of killers to come after them.

Tom glanced over his shoulder, confirming that they were all still moving. He had to admit to being shaken up. Even after all the things they’d been through, the last thing he thought he’d find that deep in the mountains was a man being tortured to death. He understood Danny’s reaction and all of the personal introspection it brought with it. They were literally in a new world…a sort of purgatory where they had what could be considered an opportunity to start over. To do things better than the first time. Instead, humanity seemed destined to waste the chance at a fresh start and turn barbaric. In some cases, almost primal, where the only thing that mattered was survival, even when that was at the cost of everyone else.

What if they got to Mercy only to discover that it wasn’t any different than the other places they’d been over the past two weeks? Tom shook his head. He knew in his heart that Miller Ranch would always be a refuge, no matter what happened in the rest of the world. If Mercy was lost, so be it. He’d make sure that Ethan was safe, and if possible, Danny and Sam, too.

“I don’t see anyone following us,” Danny said, her voice strained. She hadn’t spoken much since running from the spot in the mud where he’d held her down. Tom tried not to think about how he’d felt an overpowering need to protect her. He had his son to worry about, and that was enough.

“I’ll still feel a lot better once we’re on the other side of that crest,” Sam answered. “Do you think we’ll be able to get a few more miles between us before it gets too dark? I might be overreacting, but I’m feeling nervous about starting a fire.”

Tom forced a smile and twisted in his saddle so he could talk to the older man. “Once we’re past this, they won’t be able to see a thing from the valley floor,” he said, waving a hand at the craggy rocks looming above them. “I didn’t see any tracks anywhere along the creek bed, so I figure they came up the valley from the other end. I’m almost certain there’s a trail a ways down there that heads east and connects to the freeway. I doubt they even know about this old trail. It’s not on any maps.”

Sam looked relieved. “Well, why didn’t you say that before?”

“It was kinda obvious no one else had been through there,” Ethan jested, never missing an opportunity to tease his highly intelligent friend.

“I was more focused on things like not falling to my death,” Sam retorted, happy to play along with the mock argument.

Tom glanced back again, comforted by the normal banter, and found Danny staring at him. “Thank you,” she said softly, while Ethan and Sam continued their lively conversation.

That wasn’t what Tom expected. “For what?”

Danny looked down at her hands, clearly not used to speaking openly about her feelings. “I don’t know if Sam and I would have made it without you.”

Tom waited for her to meet his eyes again so that he was sure she would know he was being honest. “Danny, I think you might have that backwards. You guys were doing pretty well before I, um…attacked you one night.” He grinned crookedly at her until she smiled back. “And I seem to remember you doing most of the saving.”

She blushed slightly, but didn’t look away. “That’s not really what I meant.”

Tom paused, not sure if he was interpreting her correctly. He’d never been very good at understanding women. “You know,” he said, his smile growing. “I hope you don’t think you’ll be getting rid of me that easily once we’ve made it to Mercy. I’m pretty sure I owe you a beer, and you owe me a story.”

Laughing, Danny nodded in agreement. “I think you might be right.”

Tango chose that moment to scramble up and over the final section of the trail, forcing Tom to turn back. Relief flooded over him as he was finally able to accept that they’d managed to avoid a confrontation with the gang of killers. Although they still had another day or two of hard riding ahead of them.

As he rounded a large protruding boulder and crested the top, Tom got a clear view to the west and the setting sun. His breath catching in his throat, he reined Tango in and sat for a moment, soaking it in.

“Yes!” Ethan hooted as he rode Lily past him at a gallop and made a large circle on the broad, grassy slope. Grace chased after them, barking, picking up on everyone’s excitement.

“Is that Mercy?” Sam asked, stopping next to Tom. As the only one in their group to have never seen the town, he had no idea what it looked like.

“I think it is!” Danny cheered, getting down from her horse and walking out onto the grass to get a better view of the valley.

“I thought it’d be bigger,” Sam joked as he slowly climbed out of his own saddle.

Tom stared out at the miniature buildings in the distance, located far below them in a wide valley, with two more mountain ranges between them. “It’s an old mining town,” Tom explained while dismounting. Tango was eager to graze on the lush green grass and it wasn’t worth trying to hold him back. “It used to be twice the size, back when the mines were still in operation. When they shut down, it almost turned into another ghost town until my great-grandfather proved how lucrative the land was for cattle.”

Ethan, having abandoned Lily to her own grazing, ran back over to where the rest of them were standing. Tom put an arm around his son’s shoulders, still shocked at how tall he was getting. Looking up at his dad, Ethan grinned and moved closer. “We did it.”

Not trusting himself to speak, Tom turned back to take in the view. If he ignored the clear delineation of dying trees, and the lack of movement on the roads below, he could almost imagine that nothing had changed.

A flash of light in the sky to the north taunted his thoughts, and he stared hard at the boiling clouds on the far horizon. Normally, weather systems didn’t come from that direction, but he was learning to expect the unexpected.

Danny moved up on his other side, and without thinking, Tom took ahold of her hand and pointed it toward the mountains on their left, rising up from the west side of Mercy. “There,” Tom directed, moving her hand up and down. “Close to half of that hillside belongs to the Miller Ranch.”

“It’s beautiful,” Danny breathed. Turning her hand, she intertwined her fingers with his, and Tom squeezed back, holding on tightly. It felt right, as they stood there on the bluff, with so many things still unknown.

Danny draped her other arm over Sam’s shoulders, and Grace loped around them all, before settling down in front of Tom. Staring up at him with her gentle brown eyes and lolling tongue, she made it all seem so simple.

Tom looked then at Sam and Danny, and finally Ethan. “You’re right,” he said, agreeing with his son. “We’re going home to Mercy.”

Convergence

The Flashpoint Series Book 5

Preface

As paths cross and lives collide, the question of what it means to survive is confronted, whether the answer is wanted or not.

The dust continues to settle from the destruction of the gamma-ray burst, and new challenges arise in its wake. Some of the obstacles are obvious, while others are more insidious and require a tenacity to defeat that few possess.

Tom and his son, Ethan, have come together with Danny and her friend, Sam, and continued their trek together. They’re about to reach their hometown in Mercy, Montana. After more than two weeks on the run, they’ve each overcome their own battles to get there. The wounds from those conflicts might leave some scars and although reaching safety is a relief, it’s also yet another unknown. What’s been happening in Mercy since the flashpoint, and how will they fit in?

Mayor Patty is struggling to feel at home, even though she’s supposed to be the one running things in Mercy. With one challenge after another hurled at her, what’s right and wrong isn’t clear, and neither is her conscience.

Chloe has thrown herself into farm life with both feet and is determined to make her way in the new world. But if the teen thought she struggled to get along with people before everything got turned upside-down, it was nothing compared to what she’s facing now. While juggling to keep her current friends and make new ones, she’s going to discover that her unique perspective on people might lead her into a deadly scenario.

General Montgomery has what he believes to be a solid plan. It’s his destiny to save what’s left of the people of the United States and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to carry it out. He’s learning that not everyone serving with him agrees, and The Man in the Mountain is starting to wage a new war.

Master Sergeant James Campbell is one of the weapons to be deployed, but the sergeant has his own secrets. When James finds himself on a convergence course with some important players, his 1st Force Recon Unit will play a pivotal role in the future of mankind.

Russell Boyd doesn’t care about mankind, or even his own survival. It’s all rather irrelevant to the universe. Because that’s what really makes the decisions in the end: the universe. And he’s simply an extension of it.

Chapter 1

TECHNICAL SERGEANT BEN OWEN

Near Flagstaff, Arizona

The moon cast a pale light across the darkened landscape, providing just enough detail for Sergeant Ben Owen as he crept between the trees. His rapid, ragged breath came in short gasps so that it was all he could hear. Muscles burning from the exertion, Ben ignored the pain and focused on the task at hand.

FEMA Shelter AZ1 was large in comparison to some of the others, though at the moment the occupants were all military. In spite of it being one in the morning, the camp hummed with activity and Ben could see personnel moving about below him in numerous locations. That was good.

The sergeant swung his M-24 rifle around to the ready as he reached the position he’d scoped out earlier in the day. It was a low ridge located approximately five hundred feet from the camp, with an elevation of a hundred feet, give or take a few. While no shot was ever easy, as a certified counter sniper in Afghanistan, Sergeant Owen had successfully completed much more difficult…missions.

That’s what General Montgomery had called it when he’d pulled Ben aside before boarding the Huey as an escort for Admiral Baker; a mission.

Rapid gunfire erupted to the south of his location, and instead of reacting to it, he took a slow, steadying breath. The northern lights flickered above them all, casting its mystical illumination in with the dancing shadows of soldiers as they scurried about. From his vantage point, Ben could see what had already been reported: a large contingent of troops moving in from the south and another, smaller one from the north. Though impressive, they didn’t stand a chance. It would be a bloodbath.

The reason given for sending Vice Admiral Baker to FEMA Shelter AZ1 was increasing reports of a planned attack by local militia. Unlike some of the other groups, these mercenaries were comprised of not only local civilians, but also law enforcement and some National Guard troops who had grown wary of their own military leaders. The admiral arrived under the guise of an emissary, as an attempt to thwart any continued violence and try to bring some resolution between the groups.

However, Ben had worked under General Montgomery for five years, so he wasn’t surprised to discover an ulterior motive. That it would involve the assassination of the admiral was a shock, but Ben was a solider and he believed in his command. He’d seen firsthand, in the streets of Colorado Springs, what desperation and fear drove people to. It was worse than what he’d witnessed overseas, and he knew it would only get worse.

A blinding explosion exposed the scene below him in stark contrast, and Ben turned his head away from his scope, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. It looked like an M67 grenade, standard military issue, and would mark the beginning of an all-out assault attempt against the shelter.

Gunfire answered the detonation and there were shouts from near the back of the camp, where Ben was focusing his attention. That was the location of the Operations Command Center, where Admiral Baker was. As luck would have it, while Ben repositioned himself and did his best to ignore the increasing gunfight, the admiral emerged from the tent, a deep scowl on his face.

Time slowed down and his hearing receded as a massive surge of adrenaline coursed through Sergeant Owen’s body. In that moment, he contemplated what he was about to do. If the truth were ever exposed, some would see it as a soldier following orders and playing a pivotal role in an attempt to save what was left of humanity. Others would call it the act of a traitor and a coward, cold-blooded murder carried out by the follower of a power-hungry lunatic.

On some level, Ben admitted that he thought he’d have more time to evaluate the situation and his role. They’d only arrived at the shelter twelve hours ago, but as fate would have it, it was on the eve of the very assault the admiral thought he had a chance to diplomatically prevent. Instead, he would end up a martyr for the very cause he was against, and the general could claim the admiral’s death at the hands of the militia as a means to shut down the governor trying to force power back into the civilian government.

The northern lights flared momentarily, enveloping the wooded vista in a blanket of green and adding another layer of confusion and chaos to the pandemonium. Ben blinked once as his thoughts raced, shots echoed, and the lights merged, suspended in the moment.

Letting out his breath, the sergeant’s body responded automatically to its training, his finger pulling back on the trigger as he confirmed the target was in his sights. Vice Admiral Baker began to fall before the report of the weapon was processed by Ben’s brain, and he was already moving away as the only real tangible hope for the civilian government became nothing more than a notation in the history books.

Chapter 2

CHLOE

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

Chloe’s feet beat out a rhythm on the trail and she hummed along with it under her breath, keeping cadence. Since listening to music while she jogged wasn’t an option anymore, she had plenty of time to work on her singing voice.

The weather had done another one-eighty since the storm three days ago, and the morning started out hot and humid, with clear skies. Chloe wiped at the sweat beaded on her forehead, thankful again for her short hair. The purple was almost completely faded from the tips and she had started wearing a headband most days, which kept her overgrown bangs out of her eyes.

She was a mile in on the Miner’s Trail, which was her favorite stretch so far. The cedar trees there were massive and created a sort of cathedral-like effect for a quarter mile before the path started its climb farther into the mountains. Looking up from her feet, she caught a glimpse of the steep and ragged highlands jutting up in the distance.

The musty smell of the earth mingled with warmed pine needles, creating an enticing aroma that would beckon to Chloe long after she left the trail. She found the exercise addictive, almost to the point of being obsessed with getting lost in the remote wilderness. There was something about the whisper of the wind in the trees, and the vast stretches of back country that made her feel…normal. Like her problems, or even the problems of the whole town, were small and inconsequential as long as she was in the expanse. It was cathartic and Chloe couldn’t remember a time she’d ever felt so light and unburdened. Then, she’d get back into town and would be bombarded with the reality of what they were up against, and as the weight descended again, all she could think of was the need to get back into the mountains.

Chloe’s foot caught on a root and she stumbled forward, flailing her arms briefly before she caught herself. She’d gotten pretty good at recovering from tripping up and had only taken a couple of falls in the past week. Deciding it was a good time to stop for a drink, Chloe glared back at the offending root as she unscrewed the top of her water bottle. Since she was out for a fairly short run, there wasn’t any reason to bring a backpack or anything other than water. She preferred to travel light, in spite of Bishop’s warnings against being out in the woods alone.

Strolling along, she neared the spot where the cedars thinned out and gave way to grasses and rocks. Chloe poured some water over her head in anticipation of the sun blazing down on her. It trickled through her hair and then down the front of her shirt, and she pulled at the fabric to help fan herself. She was rather proud of what she’d dubbed her “running shirt”. It was tan, with an iconic picture of Luke Skywalker with Yoda on his back and the words “May The Force Be With You”, emblazoned across the bottom. She’d cut the sleeves off to make it into a tank top, and thought it quite fitting.

Lingering in the shade of the trees, Chloe debated whether she should go another mile or just turn back. Sandy was already getting her horse saddled when she’d left, and would be in the upper pasture by then. The cattle had started calving, so it was important to make sure they had plenty of grass to graze on, and Chloe’s favorite job was to walk through the tall meadows and check for any newborn calves hidden in the foliage. She’d had no idea baby cows were so darn cute.

Vacillating between the lure of the wilds and the knowledge that Sandy was waiting on her, Chloe squinted up at the craggy peaks. Maybe, if she simply soaked up the calming energy for a few minutes, it would be enough to get her through the rest of the day, and she could come back for an evening run. Having made up her mind, she began to turn away, but some unexpected movement in the distance caused her to freeze.

Thinking it must be an elk or maybe even a bear, Chloe crept forward to get a better view. Whatever it was, it looked like it was on the trail right before it disappeared over the first ridge and down into one of many smaller valleys. The top of that crest was the farthest Chloe had gotten in her explorations, and she knew it was about four miles from where she currently stood.

Frowning, she shrugged her shoulders against a prickling sensation that wound its way up her spine to settle at the base of her neck. That wasn’t an animal. At least, not only an animal. As they made their way down the hillside, Chloe saw that it was, in fact, a horse and rider. A large rider dressed all in black, and he wasn’t alone. Another horse began the descent, also with a man dressed in dark clothing. As a third horse emerged, Chloe spun around and began to run.

Her mind raced and her legs burned as she hurled herself recklessly down the trail, leaping over obstacles and counting on her surefootedness to not let her down. There’d been a growing concern over the safety of the herd and the obvious target they made for any number of groups. The altercation with Jason and his friends at the lake aside, the guards posted on the road had fended off their fair share of roaming, desperate people.

Chloe’s heart surged painfully in her chest as she considered the all-black attire. It suggested an organized threat. She had to consider them dangerous until proven otherwise. That was the mentality Bishop had been hammering into them for the past two weeks. Based on the reports coming in, he was right in his approach.

Barely ducking in time to avoid a low-hanging branch, Chloe gasped and then tossed her water bottle aside. She’d need both of her hands free if she fell. The ranch was less than a mile away, and she knew Bishop would be at the far end of the nearest field, mending the last part of the fence that was destroyed in the storm.

Five minutes later, red-faced and gulping for air, Chloe staggered into the field, her legs threatening to collapse from under her. “Bishop!” she shouted, frustrated by how weak her voice sounded. “Bishop! Riders! Riders are coming!”

She could see him in the distance, an arm raised over his head, about to swing a hammer. Bishop paused and turned, staring at her for a moment before lifting both of his hands at her questioningly. He couldn’t hear her.

Close to panic, Chloe began to wave her arms furiously at him as she forced her body to keep going. “Riders!” she screamed, her voice cracking as she stepped in a low spot and almost fell. Bishop dropped the hammer and started running. Whether he finally heard her or simply realized how frantic she was, it didn’t really matter. He was moving.

They both got to the barn at the same time, and Chloe was surprised at the concern she saw on the older man’s face. He clearly thought something had happened to her. She pointed back the way she’d come and swallowed once to gather her voice. “A couple miles back, now. There’s a group of people on horses. They’re dressed all in black.”

“How many?”

The speed with which Bishop switched from concern to action was dizzying. Chloe followed as he sped into the barn and ran for the rifles. “Um, I’m not sure. I saw three, I think, but there could be more.”

“Any weapons?” Bishop shouldered a rifle and then yanked the handheld radio off his belt.

“I didn’t see any, but they were too far away to be sure.”

Bishop spoke into the radio while grabbing the second rifle they always stored in the barn. “Sheriff Waters, this is Bishop, come in. We have an urgent situation.”

“Give me the other rifle,” Chloe demanded, holding out a hand. When Bishop frowned at her, she pursed her lips. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m not going inside.”

“Go get Sandy,” he ordered before turning away from her, the other rifle still in his grasp.

“No!” Chloe snapped. She ignored the ache in her thighs as she pushed them to catch up to Bishop. He was already heading back outside. “They’ll be here before I can reach her. Give me the gun!”

Bishop stopped just beyond the open doors of the barn and scowled at her. “The fact that you’d call it a gun and not a rifle is one of the reasons I’m not giving it to you.”

Chloe’s face burned red. “I know how to shoot!”

“Bishop, this is Waters. What sort of situation?”

“Got at least three riders coming down Miner’s Trail. Dressed in black, unknown if armed.” Bishop lowered the radio without waiting for a response, and clipped it back on to his belt as a large black-and-white horse galloped into the far side of the field. Its rider was equally large, and the way he handled the horse left no question as to his ability. He sported a beard, and dark hair stuck out from under a dirty and worn cowboy hat. Chloe could see a gun strapped to his right thigh, and Bishop must have seen it at the same time because he silently thrust the other rifle at her as another rider trotted into view.

Seizing the weapon, she clenched her teeth together, nostrils flaring. Miller Ranch had become her home and there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to protect it. It wasn’t until that moment that Chloe realized how much she cared about Sandy, Bishop, and Crissy. They were her family.

“That’s far enough!” Bishop growled, raising his rifle.

The man was about fifty feet away, and while he’d slowed his horse to a walk, he wasn’t stopping. There was an air about him that even Chloe recognized as the same type of power Bishop possessed. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized it wasn’t going to end well.

“Where’s Sandy Miller?” the man demanded, his voice deep and booming. His eyes were wild, and he looked like a panther crouched and about to spring. There were fading bruises under both of his eyes, and a nasty-looking wound over his right eyebrow. In spite of his rough appearance and the distance between them, there was something about him that seemed familiar to Chloe. As he spoke, his hand lowered to the pistol at his thigh.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Bishop cautioned, making a point of pulling back the bolt action and slapping it into place. “Who are you?”

Two more horses came pounding into the field before any answers could be given, and Chloe’s confusion grew as she saw it was a formidable woman and a teen boy. As he approached, she recognized the boy’s features and everything fell into place. Lowering the rifle, she raised her free hand toward Bishop and motioned for him to do the same.

“Stop!” All six of them turned as one to look toward Sandy as she came galloping down the hill on her mount, hair loose and flying behind her. “It’s my son!” she screamed, sounding almost hysterical. “Thomas!”

Her smile spreading as Bishop lowered his weapon, Chloe turned back to look again at the ragtag group coming closer. The large man was already off his horse and running toward Sandy, and the boy she now knew was Ethan pulled to a stop right in front of her. He leapt down from the horse to follow his dad, but paused when he saw Chloe. His face scrunched up in a pained expression as he turned back to her. “What’d ya do to my shirt?”

Chapter 3

TOM

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

Tom’s feet barely hit the ground before his mom leapt from her horse and slammed into him. “Is it really you?” she cried into his chest, her voice muffled by his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her and held on tight, afraid to let go. After eighteen days of struggling to reach her, now that they were home it didn’t seem real.

Leaning back, Sandy reached up and cradled his face in her hands, searching his eyes. “Oh, my poor Tom,” she gasped, tracing a finger over his eye and along the wound on his forehead. “What happened to you?”

“Grandma?” Sandy dropped one hand and pivoted to pull Ethan into the embrace, saving Tom from having to answer her question. It was a good thing, too, because he didn’t trust his voice.

“I knew you’d come home to me,” Sandy sobbed, holding them both.

Tom rested his chin on the top of her head, the way he’d always done since he was tall enough, her black hair blowing in his face. As he did so, he glanced over at the older man standing awkwardly with the rifle still in his hand. “Are you okay, Mom?” he asked, his voice shaky.

Grasping each of their arms, Sandy took a step back and nodded at the man and young girl next to him. “This is Bishop and Chloe. They’re the reason I’ve been okay, Tom. They’ve helped keep the farm going.”

“Crissy!” the girl named Chloe shouted while rushing to meet a young blonde girl running through the field. She was holding a chicken.

“I heard the yelling!” Crissy said, looking at them all fearfully. “Are you okay?”

“It’s all right,” Sandy reassured her. Tom must have looked as perplexed as he felt, because his mom laughed at him. “They were part of a hiking group led by Bishop when the event happened,” she explained.

“How did you all end up here?” Danny asked, speaking for the first time. Tom turned to her and Sam, feeling overwhelmed.

“It’s a long story,” Bishop answered, shouldering the rifle and standing stiffly.

“We should all go inside and get acquainted,” Sandy suggested, reaching out to take Tom’s hand again, like she couldn’t stand to let him get too far from her. “I can only imagine what you’ve all been through!” Kneeling down, she held her other hand out to Grace, who immediately began to lick her. “Oh, we’re going to be great friends, aren’t we?” she cooed.

Tom finally allowed himself to relax enough to introduce Sam and Danny. He was slowly getting over his initial reaction to shoot Bishop, except that he was a quiet man and that made Tom wary. He’d met too many people like that recently.

“Bishop, would you please take these horses and give them the royal treatment?” Sandy asked, gesturing for Danny and Sam to join them as they headed for the house. Tom noted Ethan was suddenly much more civilized and talkative as the two girls gravitated to him.

While it was an odd experience for Tom to feel like an intruder in his own home, he knew he needed to tread lightly. Fewer than three weeks had passed since the event, but it may as well have been a lifetime. They’d all changed, and he didn’t know what his mother had been through during his absence.

As Sandy led the way into the house, Tom absorbed all of the familiar surroundings. He could literally feel the wariness and pain of the past few weeks seeping from his body, replaced with the love and comfort that Miller Ranch offered him.

“I’ll admit to getting irritated with Patty more than once,” Sandy was saying while gathering everyone into the family room. His mom had naturally started to tell her story first, including what had been happening in Mercy. She hadn’t gotten very far, but it was already an interesting tale that involved a fair amount of politics. “The truth of it is that she’s been in an impossible situation and has done her best. Not without some mistakes, but it’s hard to blame her. I know you’re likely to be unhappy with the plans to continue slaughtering cattle to feed the town—”

“No,” Tom interrupted his mom. She seemed surprised. “I figured that would happen,” he explained. “I’ll sit down with Mayor Patty and this group of town leaders she’s put together and have an honest discussion. I’m fine with giving whatever is needed to the town, but only if it’s approached as a partnership. We need to have complete authority over when and how much we give, and so will the other ranchers in Mercy. So long as Miller Ranch is involved, nothing will ever be taken by force. We’ve seen up close what that looks like,” Tom added, looking over at Sam and Danny, who sat in the other two armchairs in the room.

“It’s a fine line between doing what’s best for everyone, and having it come at the cost of another’s freedom or goodwill,” Sam said solemnly. “In our situation, it’s easy to justify theft or violence, but if we want Mercy to succeed long-term, it needs to be done right from the beginning. That means everyone working together willingly.”

Sandy was nodding and she looked relieved as she smiled up at Tom. “I knew you’d help put this all into perspective,” she said to him, close to tears. “People will listen to you, Tom. They always have.”

Danny cleared her throat and Tom realized how thoughtless he was being. He jumped up before she could say anything. “We need to get you home,” he said, reaching out a hand to pull her to her feet. “We can catch up on the rest when I get back,” he said, turning to his mom.

“You don’t have to go,” Danny insisted after accepting his hand and standing wearily. She looked tired and emotionally drained. Now that they’d made it to Mercy, they were all exhausted. After being in fight-or-flight mode for so long, they had some serious sleep to catch up on.

“You already said you aren’t sure how to get to your dad’s from here,” Tom said, though he could easily draw her a map. There was another reason he wanted to take her, and it had nothing to do with being a gentleman. Somewhere along the way, Tom had begun to feel protective of Danny and he wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“I can take them,” the girl named Chloe offered. She and Crissy sat behind them, in the kitchen. “I’ve been to Tane’s a couple of times.” Danny raised her eyebrows at the girl, clearly surprised that she’d know her dad.

“Your father has been a huge help,” Sandy explained. “He and Bishop are good friends, actually. And he isn’t home right now. He’ll be out at the spring, working on restoring the water supply after our last…mishap.”

“Working?” Danny said incredulously. Her brows drew together in concern and Grace, who’d been lying contentedly in front of the cold fireplace, looked up at her and whined. “My dad has a heart condition. He shouldn’t be out running around or doing anything strenuous. You need to take me to him,” she ordered Chloe as she moved toward the backdoor.

Grace leapt to her feet and plodded after Danny, not waiting to be called, and Sam slowly followed. “I may as well tag along,” he said with a wink to Ethan. “With any luck, we’ll all sit down to a steak dinner soon.”

Chloe rose from the stool at the kitchen counter and stopped Danny and Sam at the door. “I’m happy to take you, but I don’t think we should go to the spring.” The young girl looked meaningfully at Sandy. “We need to use the back roads and go straight to his house. They can wait for him there. If anyone sees them—”

Sandy cringed and put a hand to her forehead. “The quarantine!” Turning to Tom, she appeared apologetic. “After an outbreak of a horrible bacteria killed several people, we’ve had a strict quarantine protocol.”

Danny’s shoulders sagged. “Yeah, we’ve heard of it.”

Tom shook his head at his mom’s questioning look. “I’ll explain later. It’s a very long story.”

The back door slid open with a flourish then and Bishop plodded inside, not bothering to shake off his boots and leaving a trail of dirt in his haste. The sound of approaching horses could be heard through the open door. “I radioed the sheriff and told him we were okay, but they’ve come anyway,” he explained, gesturing with his hat to the front door. “You might want to preempt the introductions, Sandy. I’m not sure how clear they are on who’s here, and why.”

Tom followed his mom out onto the front porch and tried not to sigh when he saw the group of riders in the driveway. All he wanted was one day to decompress and regroup, but they seemed destined to always have some sort of conflict to resolve.

“Patty!” Sandy hollered, walking down the steps ahead of Tom. She waved at him to stay put as she approached the horses.

Tom watched as Mayor Patty slid off her horse but remained several feet away from his mom while eying him cautiously. He recognized her husband, Caleb, on the horse next to her. The sheriff, one of his deputies, and another man Tom wasn’t familiar with fanned out to either side, making a formidable wall. Bishop moved up next to Tom, and he noticed how rigidly he stood, as if ready to move into action at any given moment. It wasn’t the stance of an ordinary man.

“Praise the Lord, it’s true!” Patty said, clapping her hands together once. “Your mom never gave up hope,” she said to Tom, her expression still wary.

“Who else is with you?” Sheriff Waters asked bluntly. “You said there were several riders,” he said to Bishop.

“Sheriff,” Tom said, addressing the man formally. “My son, Ethan, is with me, as well as another man and woman we met along the way. Danny Latu and Sam Ruiz, a paramedic and teacher from Helena.”

“Latu,” Patty said thoughtfully. “Are you Tane’s daughter?”

Tom turned to see that Danny had joined them on the porch, and she was nodding at Patty. “Yes. And I’d really like to see him.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to ask you to postpone your reunion for another day,” Sheriff Waters said gravely. “You’ve already avoided our normal protocol by coming in on the trail, and we can’t have you wandering around town. It’ll cause a panic.”

Danny’s face reddened and Tom was worried she’d lose her temper, but she made an obvious effort to be reasonable. “Right. I get it. How about you tell him I’m here, then, and he can come out to see me?”

Patty frowned disapprovingly. “I’m sorry, but that isn’t an option. Tane is a vital member of the team working at the spring and we can’t afford to lose him right now. Bishop and Chloe were supposed to go help this afternoon, so now we’re already going to be down two more people.”

Danny’s hands balled into fists and she stomped across the porch. “You have no right to keep me from my father!” she shouted.

Tom put a hand out to stop Danny when he saw the deputy and other man begin to reach for their sidearms. He didn’t think they’d actually shoot her, but he’d had enough showdowns lately to last a lifetime. “Danny,” he whispered gruffly. “This won’t help you. We’ll figure it out on our own.”

To his relief, Danny didn’t pull away from him. Although she was upset, she still had the ability to stop her emotional response and clearly evaluate the situation. He heard her take an audible breath before moving back a step and relaxing her hands.

“I have over a dozen fresh graves that work as a strong reminder why we can’t place any more lives at risk,” Patty tried to explain to them. “And while I understand that you just got here and can’t fully appreciate the precarious situation we’re in with our water supply, you have to trust me when I say that moving your reunion with your father up a day isn’t worth the water we’d lose.”

“She’s right,” Caleb said, his deep voice adding weight to the assertion. “You have no idea how relieved we are to have you home, Tom, and I can’t wait to sit down and have a beer with you, but right now we’ve got to put the safety of Mercy first.”

“We understand,” Tom said, looking at Danny, and he was relieved when she nodded in agreement. “Maybe we can help.” When Patty and the sheriff regarded him silently, he continued. “How about, if we don’t show any signs of infection after twelve hours, you notify Tane that we’re here at the ranch? You can do it after they’re done working for the day. Then he can join us for the night, if he wants to. Tomorrow, after we’re cleared in the morning, we’ll all go and work on the water. With the four of us helping, maybe we can make a difference.”

Patty smiled sincerely for the first time and the other men with her all noticeably relaxed. “I think that’s a great idea,” she said. “I’ll tell Tane myself, Danny. I promise.”

Danny gave a small grin to the mayor and then sat resolutely in one of the chairs on the porch. Grace was instantly at her feet, tongue lolling, and she absently stroked the retriever’s head as Sam came out and sat in the other chair.

Tom noticed that Ethan was standing in the doorway with Chloe and Crissy, taking the scene in. It wasn’t exactly the homecoming they’d envisioned, but at least his mom was healthy and, compared to every other town they’d been to, Mercy was doing rather well, whether they realized it or not.

“How about you and Caleb come back tomorrow night?” Sandy suggested. “You too, Sheriff. We’ll all have dinner together and get caught up on what’s happening. I think Tom and his companions have a lot of useful information for us.”

“I’d be very interested in hearing what you’ve encountered since the flashpoint,” Sheriff Waters said.

Sam stood from his chair and moved to the front railing, looking down questioningly at the sheriff. “I’m curious, how do you know that the military is calling the event ‘flashpoint’?”

“I was able to get my shortwave working the day it happened,” Caleb answered. “It took some time, but I eventually managed to communicate with several operators around the world.”

“You’ve been in contact with the military?” Tom asked, alarmed. He exchanged a knowing look with both Danny and Sam, his anxiety ratcheting up.

“Not…recently,” Patty said, hesitating. “We, um…” She looked at the sheriff, who gave a silent bob of his head before she continued. “Caleb was speaking with some military posts in a couple of states, until we led them to believe that we never managed to contain the cholera-like illness.”

“Why would you do that?” Sandy asked. It was clear to Tom that it was the first his mom had heard of the deception.

“We started getting reports of forced FEMA camps and violent take-overs by the military,” Sheriff Waters answered.

“So, you decided on behalf of the town to cut us off from any possible outside aid?” Sandy yelled, shocked. “What if they could have been helping us this whole time?”

“It was the right thing to do,” Tom said, surprising both the sheriff and his mom. “At least, for now I think it is. Until the military and what’s left of our government get a better grip on things, we’re better off on our own.”

“So it’s true?” Patty asked, her face a picture of distress even though Tom had agreed with her. “Our Pony Express riders have been bringing back unbelievable stories of farmers being forced off their own land, and killed if they resist.”

“It’s true,” Sam confirmed. “We’ve experienced it ourselves.”

“Did you say Pony Express?” Danny stood and moved up next to Tom, her eyes wide.

“That’s what we’ve been calling our system of riders,” Caleb said, not understanding Danny’s reaction. “It began as a mail service. We had them wearing the Mercy post office shirts until we realized it wasn’t smart to advertise where our home base was. It’s already expanded into a large network connecting several communities. We’ve started a supply chain and are trying to accommodate as many people as possible.”

“Are you missing any riders?” Tom asked, afraid he already knew the answer.

Patty glanced sideways at the sheriff. “Yes,” Sheriff Waters confirmed. “Two. They’re overdue going on three days now.”

“We know where they are,” Danny said, hanging her head as she recalled the scene.

Tom set a hand over top of hers on the railing. “The military isn’t the only threat out there,” he said grimly. “And if these guys know about Mercy, we’d better get ready. They’ll be coming.”

Chapter 4

GENERAL MONTGOMERY

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

General Montgomery’s office door flew open and Colonel Walsh barged in unannounced. He gripped a sheet of paper and his face was ashen. “We’ve just gotten confirmation that an assault was successfully launched against FEMA Shelter AZ1 early this morning,” Walsh blurted before setting the report down on Montgomery’s desk.

He glanced down at the memo and noted the familiar handwritten words. Their shortwave radio operator was good at what he did, but his penmanship left a lot to be desired. Pushing it aside, he preferred to get it directly from Walsh. “While we weren’t expecting them to move this soon, it’s not as if it’s a surprise.” Though he outwardly remained unfazed by the news, Montgomery was silently relieved that they’d managed to get the admiral there in time. He had faith that Sergeant Owen successfully completed his mission. He wasn’t the kind of soldier to accept failure.

“Of course we knew something was being planned,” Walsh confirmed, frowning. “Except it was very coordinated. That was in part due to the insurgents being made up of more than just local civilians. We’ve got good intel that it was led by some police officers and even state guardsmen. As a result, we took more casualties than anticipated in the attack.”

“You mean the terrorist attack.”

“Sir?”

Montgomery rested his hands on the top of his desk and leaned forward while leveling a stony gaze at Walsh. “From now on, any communication regarding this incident will refer to it as a terrorist attack. Are we clear?”

“But, sir—”

“Is there a problem, Colonel?” Montgomery growled, his voice getting dangerously loud.

“No, sir.” Walsh cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation. “It’s just that some of those men and women involved in the confron—I mean, terrorist attack, were locals. And the National Guard members live in the area, too. People aren’t going to blindly accept that they’re terrorists simply because we say so.”

General Montgomery rose halfway from his leather office chair before slamming his fists down, causing Walsh to jump back. “We’ve gone from a world of instant, constant data exchange, to one where only a handful of people can communicate by tapping out a code!” he spat. “We now control the information both coming and going. It’s never been easier to shape our own reality and because of this, I fully expect the world to believe those terrorists are whoever we say they are.”

“Yes, sir,” Walsh mumbled, shaken. “I’ll go speak with our communications center personally.”

“I can’t stress enough how critical this is,” the general insisted, stopping Walsh from turning away from him. “You know why this battle has to be depicted correctly. Right, Colonel? Admiral Baker must be made into a martyr. Only then can we make it the military’s mission to avenge his death, and close the book on any possible civilian government. Not even the remaining governors or senators can support blatant anarchy.”

Walsh tipped his head questioningly, his face suddenly becoming stoic. “That was my next report, sir. That Vice Admiral Baker might be one of the casualties. It hasn’t been confirmed yet.”

General Montgomery swallowed hard, his face unflinching. The clock ticked from its perch on the wall, confirming the number of seconds the silence stretched as the two men stared at each other across the desk.

“That will be all, Colonel,” Montgomery finally ordered, not feeling the need to justify himself to anyone, not even Walsh. It was better that way.

The colonel hesitated, his eyes narrowing for only a moment as he absorbed the meaning of the exchange and the fact that he wasn’t going to be given an explanation for it. In the end, he did what Montgomery knew he would do; he turned around and walked away to carry out his commander’s orders.

The general allowed him to get as far as the door. “Kelly.”

The other man stopped with his hand on the doorknob, frozen by the rare use of his first name.

“Do you trust me?” Montgomery meant to sound confident and strong in his resolve, but it instead came out as a plea to his longtime friend.

Walsh’s shoulders sagged but he didn’t turn around. “I want to.”

General Montgomery sat rigidly and watched as the colonel walked through the door without another word.

Chapter 5

RUSSELL

Mercy Parish, Mercy, Montana

Russell pulled on the large rope with all of his strength, while marveling at how the late Father White had managed to do it. An ear-splitting clanging surrounded him when he succeeded in his task, and he clenched his teeth as he made sure to ring the church bell the allotted number of times.

Madeline had made it very clear that to summon the congregation, he was to toll the bell seven times, a half-hour before the service. The pianist was proving to be of great assistance. Russell didn’t even know it was going to be Sunday until the night before. She had shown up on his doorstep, still tearful over the news of the passing of her beloved Pastor White.

Happy to invite the friendly woman in, they sat for over an hour discussing exactly how the Father had performed his Sunday mass, to be certain Russell honored his memory. Well, that was the guise he used to refresh his recollection on how the proceedings should be performed.

Thankfully, the memorial service for the pastor wouldn’t be for another three days, though they buried him right away. Madeline insisted she needed the time to prepare a proper commemorative celebration in his honor, and wanted to make sure there was plenty of notice for the community to attend.

Russell slowly made his way down the steep, rickety wooden steps of the bell tower, delaying the inevitable. He could hear people already moving about in the church below him. According to Madeline, they were eager to meet their new, young priest.

The staircase led directly into his office, where Russell stood debating whether to wear the traditional robes or not. While it might give him an additional air of authority in the eyes of his congregation, the fact remained that he wasn’t Catholic, nor had he ever pretended to be. Donning the sacred clothing could be taking his role too far, and one thing Russell comprehended was how important it was to recognize certain limitations. Staying within them while still manipulating everything else around him was how he tended to get whatever he wanted.

A short time later, after the appropriate hymns had been played, he walked out into the sanctuary still dressed in his humble street clothes. Raising his hands to silence the crowd, he stood there for a moment in the pregnant pause, milking it as much as possible. Finally, Russell slowly brought his hands together and peered out at the congregation over his fingertips.

“To my brothers and sisters of Sanctuary, I want to thank you for welcoming me into your home and church. My name is Father Russell Rogers, and I have traveled here…no, I was led here from a great distance. There are no coincidences when it comes to the plans of the universe.” Russell knew how his smooth voice and refined look affected people, and when put into a position of power, it was as dangerous as any weapon. The small nods, quick exchanges of approving looks, and beguiled smiles returned to him were all signs of how his spell was already successfully cast. And he’d only just begun.

“Although I have so much more I want to share with you, I feel strongly that this is not my time to say it. You have all suffered yet another great loss in a string of many, and in honor of Father White, I’m dedicating this service to him and his memory. For that reason, in lieu of a sermon, I’m going to ask Madeline to step out from behind her piano and speak about the man you all loved so dearly.”

Madeline stood with a shocked expression, a hand flying to her throat in what Russell now realized was her frequent gesture of surprise. Blushing furiously, she rushed to make her way around the piano, her skirt snagging on an edge in the process. Russell stifled a snort as the churchgoers barely avoided more revelations than expected that Sunday.

The expose averted, Madeline enthusiastically spoke of the late priest and his work. As her voiced droned on, Russell was happy to take a seat and block it all out. His mind drifted to the work he was to do that afternoon at the clinic with the lovely Dr. Melissa Olsen. She had invited him to dinner later that week and he was tempted to accept, even though there was no guarantee he’d still be around.

Through his charity work over the past few days, Russell had come to learn just how desperate the water situation was in Mercy. If the leaders had been less concerned about politics, they might have foreseen other issues more clearly. He sighed. It was always the same. Even with a life-altering event, in a small and genuine community like Mercy, the basis of human nature still prevailed. They were lucky he’d arrived when he did.

“Father?”

Russell jerked to attention and looked up to find Madeline staring at him earnestly.

“Father, would you like to close the service?” Her hand at her throat again, Madeline offered him a small smile before returning to her post at the piano.

Standing, Russell reflected on the people seated at his back. His flock, desperate for leadership. Unfortunately for them, he’d be moving on soon. He still had a lot of work to be done outside of Mercy, now that he understood they were to succumb to the same natural consequences as everyone else. Although sometimes nature needed a helping hand.

Turning, Russell raised his hands with a flourish. “Let us pray!”

Chapter 6

PATTY

Outskirts of Mercy, Montana

The sun was already at her back as Patty rode along the familiar country road on the outskirts of Mercy. She’d just left the spring, where she had the pleasure of telling Tane that his daughter was waiting to see him at Miller Ranch. Patty smiled, recalling the expression on the large man’s face. It was a joy most of them didn’t get to experience lately…the reunion with a loved one once thought lost.

Patty was weary after another emotional day and was more than ready to go home, but she had an important stop to make first. Her friend, Kathy, lived by herself and was only a couple of miles out of the way. Though physically active and more than five years younger than Patty, Kathy had recently been diagnosed with an aggressive type of cancer and had undergone her second round of chemotherapy a few days before the flashpoint. Her immune system already weakened, the gamma radiation had nearly killed her, in the cruelest twist of irony. To Melissa’s utter shock, her patient not only survived, but was defying all logic and getting better.

Patty simply chose to call it a miracle. With so many stories of loss and horror, Kathy’s was one that she clung to. It reminded her that the will to live was as equally important as the opportunity. Even though Kathy had every reason to give up, including the fact that her remaining family had died on the East Coast, she chose instead to smile through her misery and come out the other side.

Urging her horse into a trot down the length of Kathy’s long driveway, Patty soaked up the nostalgic scene. The late afternoon sunlight cast warm shadows through the evergreens that lined the gravel road and birds flitted amongst them, chirping as she passed underneath. It was enough to allow Patty a moment of respite, where she could imagine it was the same as any other day she’d gone for a ride to have afternoon tea with her friend. Before they lost so much, but also gained so much insight.

“Patty!”

Patty held a hand up to shield her eyes, and saw that Kathy had come down from her front porch to greet her. She looked good. Reining her horse in, she jumped down and waved a greeting before lifting the bundle down from the back of her saddle. Inside was an assortment of apples, corn, potatoes, and beef jerky. Kathy was one of the lucky few who had a hand pump attached to her well, so she was set for water.

“What a wonderful surprise,” Kathy said as she rushed to give Patty a hug. “Oh, you shouldn’t have,” she lamented when Patty held the bag out.

“Of course I should have,” Patty retorted playfully. “There’s a couple of teabags in there, too. The good stuff,” she winked, eliciting gentle laughter from the other woman. “Your color is remarkably good.”

Kathy nodded and raised a hand to her cheek after hefting the bag under her other arm. “I don’t know what it is, Patty, but I feel better than I have in months. I was already planning on going into town tomorrow to help at the farmer’s market you’ve been going on about.”

Patty beamed at her friend, unable to contain her excitement. “It’ll be so great to have you there! I’ll be arriving around mid-morning, after I get caught up on some paperwork at city hall.”

“Perfect.” Kathy opened the front door and then looked back expectantly at Patty. “You’re coming in, aren’t you? I’ll make us some of that tea.”

Patty’s grin faded slightly and she wavered, tempted by the offer. “I wish I could. I really do, but I’m already late getting home. Caleb is still another hour behind me, so if I don’t get going, we won’t be eating dinner tonight.”

Instead of being persistent, Kathy gave her an understanding look and patted the bag under her arm. “Well, then I’ll have to enjoy it by myself, this one time. I fully expect you to come by tomorrow after the market and spend some time chatting with me though. I miss our talks.”

Patty rushed up the front steps and gave Kathy a quick hug, thankful to have someone in her life who could offer some balance to all the craziness. “Absolutely!”

Trotting back down the driveway, the contrast of the trees seemed harsher and the air cooler, as she headed back into her role as mayor, healer, and wife. Patty felt pulled in so many directions that she wasn’t sure what hat she truly wore anymore.

A mile down the road, she studied a small cabin set back in the woods, and had to squint at the sunlight reflecting off the windows. She believed a young man named Joseph currently lived there. Patty didn’t know much about him except that he’d been a long-haul driver who rented the place cheap so he could crash there on the days he wasn’t out on the road. Slowing, she wondered where his semi was, and assumed he must have been driving somewhere close by when the gamma ray struck.

Frowning, Patty considered whether to pay the man a quick visit. She’d seen him going into the only bar, The Last Stop, early the day before. While at the spring, she was told he’d never shown up for his shift that morning. It infuriated her that a young, able-bodied man had the energy to go into town to drink but not to pitch in and help out where he was needed.

Her good mood already precarious, Patty decided to let it go and have Caleb talk to him the next day instead. However, as she started back down the road, Joseph’s horse came trotting around the side of his house and halfway out to where she was.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Patty muttered, turning around. It was bad enough that he wasn’t pulling his weight in town, but he couldn’t even take care of his own animal?

Fortunately, the mare wasn’t skittish, and she stood quietly as Patty took ahold of the bridle and led her around the cabin. She had no idea where the gate to the pasture was, but figured it was back behind the house somewhere. She would put the horse out in the field and then give Joseph an earful.

The side yard was badly overgrown and was likely that way long before the power went out. Garbage was piled up alongside the house, and Patty grimaced at the smell and batted flies away as she walked past. Most people had taken to either burning or burying their garbage. Leaving it out like that would only lead to a rodent problem, or even lure a bear into the neighborhood.

Her list of complaints growing, Patty’s steps picked up steam along with her indignation. By the time she rounded the corner and found his body, her face was burning with anger. The heat in her cheeks rapidly faded, as well as the color, and Patty’s hand fell from the bridle to clasp instead at her chest.

No more than twenty feet away, Joseph lay prone alongside a woodshed. His rifle was partway under his body and still clasped in his left hand. He’d shot himself in the head, and from the looks of it, had done a proper job.

A small gasp escaped Patty’s lips as a torrent of emotions welled up inside of her. She’d seen plenty of death, both as a nurse and more recently as mayor. That wasn’t what stole her breath and made her blood run cold. It was the knowledge that Joseph, a strong and able man of barely thirty, had lost so much hope that he’d been driven to take his own life.

There was a note in the dirt by his foot, but it was splattered with blood and she couldn’t bring herself to pick it up. Probably best to leave it for the sheriff, anyway. Thinking about the ride back into town caused another emotion to override the rest: shame.

Dropping to her knees, Patty looked away from the once-handsome man, and instead focused on the late-afternoon light in the field. Insects danced in the hazy glare and the silence was so complete that she could hear her heartbeat. It reminded Patty that she was still alive, and that perhaps she’d lost some of her focus amongst all the concern of what others were thinking of her decisions as mayor.

A sob escaped her then, and Patty nearly choked on the realization that she’d failed Joseph. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into the silence. She felt no resentment toward the young man, only sorrow.

Forcing herself to look at him, Patty sucked in a ragged breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, Joseph. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you why you never came to the barbeques. I noticed that you always walked with your head down, and were drinking alone in the middle of the day, but I never cared enough to wonder why.”

Slowly, Patty staggered to her feet and reached back blindly for the horse that was still there, waiting patiently. She thought of her friend Kathy. Alone in the world and dying of cancer, she managed to find the strength to not only live, but love life, while a young man with so much potential gave up.

“Hope,” Patty sighed, determined his death would not be in vain. “I’ve forgotten that we need so much more than water and food.” Uncertain as to how she could reach those in despair, Patty knew that she’d have to start by being honest with the community. Gary had been right in that respect, at least. She’d make an announcement assuring that everyone in Mercy would be given food and water, whether they chose to participate in the exchange or not. Tom Miller would be the perfect spokesperson to spread the word. He was the most respected rancher in Mercy, and people would listen to him.

Heading back to her own horse with the mare in tow, Patty paused at the edge of the yard and looked back at Joseph, his body already claimed by shadows. “I’m sorry you died alone.”

Chapter 7

ETHAN

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

Dinner was an interesting mix of fulfillment and misery. Ethan had been fantasizing about a good steak more than he’d care to admit, and while the roasted chicken wasn’t quite as satisfying, it was a close second. On the other hand, the nonstop conversation between nine people was overwhelming, not to mention the questions his grandma kept asking him. At least Tane was the only extra body there that night, since the sheriff and mayor didn’t want to risk exposing themselves by accepting the invitation to dinner.

When the adults retired to the campfire to sing Kumbaya and drink beers, Ethan saw his chance to escape. Especially since his dad refused to allow the teens to have any alcohol, even though it was literally the end of the world. He happily offered to help Chloe move out of his room when she announced she was on her way to go get her things. He had mixed feelings when he found out that while Crissy had been living in the guest room, and Bishop was in his dad’s, the cute but abrasive girl had been assigned his bedroom.

Sleeping in his own bed was the other thing Ethan had been dreaming about, and he wasn’t sure if he was irritated or thrilled that Chloe had been using it for practically the whole time. As he leaned against the doorframe and watched her stuff her clothes into a bag, he realized that most of the items were his that she had hijacked. Okay…irritated. He was definitely leaning more towards irritated.

One of Chloe’s gifts must have been mind reading, because she looked up then and offered him a lopsided grin. “Sorry. Your grandma said this was all mostly stuff that was too small for you now.”

“Yeah, most of it,” Ethan agreed, maintaining his casual pose. “But Star Wars?” he asked, pointing at the altered tank sitting out on the bed.

Chloe grimaced. “Yeah, well…I know it’s like, bordering on sacrilegious, but it was too big and Yoda is my favorite.”

Ethan snorted. “Favorite? What, you’re gonna claim to be a fan after destroying that vintage tee?”

“It’s vintage?” Chloe sounded horrified.

It was his turn to grin. “Nah, I got it off Amazon for ten bucks. But it could have been!”

Chloe chuckled and looked impressed, rather than annoyed by the joke. “And yes, I’m a self-proclaimed nerd. Though, while Yoda is my favorite character, Firefly is my all-time favorite show.”

Nodding in approval, Ethan pushed away from the door and entered his room. “Agreed.” Maybe she wasn’t so bad, after all.

She watched him as he plopped down in a beanbag and propped his feet up on the bed next to where she was sitting. “BSG is a close second,” she said once he was situated.

“Battlestar Galactica, the reboot?” Ethan asked, crinkling his nose. “No way. I never got into it.”

Turning to face him, Chloe avoided his bare feet like they were a snake and continued to pack the last of her clothes while they talked. “It’s one of the best storylines ever produced,” she insisted. “How far did you get?”

“Never made it through season one.”

“Well, that’s why,” Chloe said as if she’d just figured out some major mystery.

Ethan thought it was cute how animated she got talking about something as simple as a TV show. He assumed she was smart, so he was glad they shared something in common to talk about.

“You’ve got to watch it through at least the second season, and then I promise you won’t be able to stop—” she froze mid-sentence, realizing what she was saying.

“The power will come back on,” Ethan said softly. “Maybe not for a while, but it will, eventually.”

“What if it doesn’t?” Chloe asked matter-of-factly. “What if no one ever gets to watch any of those shows ever again?”

Of all the things in the world to mourn, it seemed ridiculous to be upset over the loss of some TV series. Yet, it was a sad reminder of how much they’d had ripped away. Chunks of their childhood, their culture, the simple pleasure of getting lost in an alternate reality where nothing else mattered for just a little while. The thought gave Ethan an idea and he tried to smile reassuringly at Chloe. “It’s a good thing most of these stories were based on books!”

“True,” she agreed, and then frowned again. “Except it’s a little hard to get to your local library and request a copy.”

Holding a finger up, Ethan jumped up and went to his closet. Opening it with a flourish, he opened one of the built-in cabinets inside and pulled out a plastic tub. He sat it on the bed with a small grunt and then lifted the lid off, revealing several dozen paperbacks.

Gasping in pleasure, Chloe got up on her knees and started digging through the books. “Star Wars and Star Trek!” she beamed, pulling several copies out. “How did I miss this?”

“You went through my stuff?” Ethan asked, his grin fading.

Laughing, Chloe reached out and pushed lightly against his chest. “Don’t worry, I stayed out of your sock drawer. Any secrets hidden in there remain totally incognito.”

Blushing, Ethan vacillated again on whether he liked the precocious teen or not. He’d never met anyone like her before. “Where’s Crissy?” he asked, deciding it was best to change the subject altogether.

“Sleeping,” Chloe sighed, sitting back on the bed with several books piled into her lap. “She’s getting up at the crack of dawn to take care of the chickens so she can get into town and spend some time with Trevor.”

“The other guy who was part of your hiking group?” Ethan asked, trying to remember the brief story Bishop had told them earlier in the day.

Chloe bobbed her head while making a pained expression. “He and Crissy are…close.”

“That’s a bad thing?”

The look Chloe gave him in response was hard to interpret, other than it wasn’t a good topic. “No, not a bad thing, just irritating. He hurt his leg in that wagon accident Sandy told you about, and you’d think he was some hero with the way Crissy waits on him.”

“You don’t like him?” Ethan tried again. He didn’t understand why, but a small part of him was put off that she might be jealous.

Huffing, Chloe added the books to her clothes and closed up the duffle bag. “He’s my friend. They’re both my friends, which is why I guess sometimes I feel a little like the third wheel. It wasn’t like that until Crissy got all heartsick over him. What about you?” she asked bluntly. “You have a girlfriend back in Vegas?”

Thrown off by how quickly she’d flipped the conversation back to him, Ethan fumbled with his answer. “Me? Um, no. I mean, not at the time. Well, when I left for the summer, I didn’t.” His faced burned hotter when she laughed at his awkwardness, and he wondered if she was ever going to leave his room. “You and Crissy going to have enough space, sharing the room?” he asked, hoping she’d get the hint.

“More room than you and your dad will,” she said, pointing at his full-size mattress. “Except that the other times we shared a bed, I usually woke up with Crissy’s feet in my back. I’ll let you know in the morning how it goes.” Winking, she finally stood and headed for the door. “Where are Danny and her dad going to sleep tonight?”

Ethan shrugged. “I dunno. The couches, I guess. I think I heard Sam say they were all going to camp out there. Or my grandma probably has a couple of cots. I know Danny would sleep on the floor of the barn and not care.”

Chloe paused, considering what he’d said. “She seems pretty cool. Tough, ya know? I guess she has to be if she’s a firefighter.”

“I watched her kill someone.” Ethan didn’t know why he said it. He hadn’t planned to, and once it was out, he wished he could take it back. It was a statement that would lead to questions and he wasn’t prepared to share any of the answers.

Chloe squinted at him, seemingly assessing the validity of his words. She must have seen something on his face that convinced her, because she simply sat her bag down and took over his previous position in the doorway. “How?”

“How?” Ethan echoed, unsure what she meant.

“How did she kill him? Like, slit his throat or—”

“She shot him,” he interrupted. “In the chest. Then he fell off his horse. Well, partway; his foot was stuck in the stirrup, so it dragged him. By the time I got Tango stopped, Decker was dead. So, technically, I’m not sure if it was the bullet or horse that killed him.”

Chloe stood staring at him, mouth open in a silent O. For the second time in as many minutes, Ethan had spoken without giving any thought to what he was saying. Maybe it was because he was home and now that some of his defenses were down, the stuff that was too hard to keep inside was oozing out, like a leak in a septic system. Closing his eyes and turning his head away from her judging eyes, Ethan wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and forget about everything.

“I’m sorry.”

Ethan opened one eye and risked looking back at Chloe. To his surprise, she looked anguished instead of disapproving. Maybe, in time, he could tell her more about what he experienced, and it would help some of his nightmares go away.

“I’m glad she killed him, if he’s one of the men that did that to you,” she said, gesturing to his face and the bruises that hadn’t completely faded. “He deserved it.” Chloe’s voice was harsh, and it had an edge to it that convinced Ethan she meant what she said.

As the short, attractive girl with purple in her hair walked away from Ethan’s room, he felt like a small amount of the weight he’d been carrying around left with her. It was a little easier to breathe, and he was certain he’d have longer stretches of sleep in between his nightmares that night.

He didn’t have a reasonable explanation for the connection he felt to Chloe, other than the fact she’d been sleeping in his room and going through his things for the past two weeks, but Ethan knew it was there. A familiarity, perhaps, of losing your parent and being cast into a situation you had no control over. Shaking his head and chastising himself for being overly emotional, Ethan got up and closed the door.

Going back to the bed, he saw that she’d left the Star Wars shirt behind. Grinning, he carefully draped it on the beanbag. Ethan had a feeling that when it came to Chloe, he’d need all the help from the Force he could get.

Chapter 8

DANNY

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

Danny had spent so many nights sitting next to a campfire that it was the last thing she thought she’d choose to do on their first night in Mercy. However, when dinner was over and she had a chance to truly sit down with her dad and talk, doing it around a fire seemed fitting. It turned out that Sandy hadn’t broken out Tom’s reserve while he was gone, so they also had plenty of beer to toast with.

“You said you have a week of meds left?” she asked her dad as they picked seats next to each other. Grace plodded out onto the back patio with them, extremely content after a big bowl of chicken and carrots.

“Yes, Danny.” He didn’t roll his eyes at her, but Tane didn’t need to. The tone of his voice said it all. It was one of the first questions she’d already asked him after their emotional reunion on the front porch less than an hour before. “I read you should have a month’s worth of all your meds stored up, in case of a disaster. For once, I took some good advice.”

Though he winked at her, Danny couldn’t let it go. While she was incredibly relieved to find out he’d been taking his heart medicine all along, the fact was he’d run out soon. “I’ll figure out a way to find more,” she promised, taking his hand. His was so much larger than her own, and he’d always made her feel safe when he was near. Danny desperately wished that was still the case, except too much had happened, and what used to make everything okay simply wasn’t enough anymore.

“My mom said you’ve spent some time with Caleb on the radio,” Tom remarked to Bishop, as soon as they’d all sat down.

“Some,” Bishop confirmed. “I haven’t had as much time to learn the codes as I’d like. I don’t have the opportunity to make it in to city hall very often, where the radio is.” He leaned back in his chair and eyed Tom. “I’ve managed to help with some of the translations, though. What’s your question?”

Tom wrung his hands together before clearing his throat, and Danny could tell he was nervous. She knew what he was going to ask and it was the type of thing where it might be better not to know. “When we were at the FEMA camp,” Tom finally said. “They wouldn’t allow us to use their radio at all. They insisted it was for military purposes only. So, we still don’t know if Ethan’s mom is alive or not. She was on her way to Hawaii when the ray hit.”

Tane made a whistling noise and then shook his head before Bishop could answer. “I’ve helped Caleb, too, with some of the paperwork he’s produced. One of the things I worked on was a list of stations he’s contacted. I’m sorry,” Tane added quietly. “Hawaii isn’t one of them.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re not there,” Bishop offered. “In fact, based on what we’ve learned, I think Hawaii would be one of the safest places to be. We’ll talk to Caleb tomorrow about it. I’m sure he’ll have some ideas.”

Tom was understandably disappointed by the news, and Danny wished there was something she could say. They all had so many questions, and they’d already gotten used to not having them answered instantly by googling or picking up a phone. She still had no idea how her co-workers and friends in Helena were doing, plus her mom and grandparents were also in Hawaii. Sam had already accepted that his wife was most likely dead, but he also had friends and colleagues in Helena. Sandy told them how unstable the city was, so going there wasn’t really an option yet. At some point, they would, though it would probably be after winter. Until then, they’d have to figure out their roles in Mercy.

“Where is Ethan?” Sandy said, noticing the teen hadn’t come outside with them.

“Bed,” Tom said with a grin. “He’s been going on about sleeping in his room since we left Vegas.”

Studying her father in the glow of the fire, Danny was relieved to confirm that he still looked as good as he had when he first arrived at the house. She’d spent so much time imagining all the different ways he could be hurt or become sick that she was having a hard time believing he was okay. If Danny was honest with herself, she’d have to admit that he’d fared better than she had since the gamma ray.

Tane looked up and caught her staring. After a brief flash of concern clouded his dark features, he beamed a bright smile at her. Reaching out, he gently touched the knot on her forehead that was still noticeable. “You gonna tell me how you got that?”

Danny pulled away without meaning to, and then silently chastised herself. She’d been fiercely independent her whole life, even as a child, but the past few years she’d become more withdrawn and…shut down. While she was determined to tear down some of those walls, it was obviously going to take time as well as patience from the people around her.

“It happened at the FEMA camp,” Tom offered. He was sitting on her other side and she turned to look at him gratefully. “While saving my butt,” he added with a chuckle.

“Is that where you met?” Tane asked. They’d barely had time to catch up on the basics while eating, so Tane hadn’t heard much yet.

“No,” Danny said hesitantly. “It’s a long story, Dad. I’ll tell you more about it later. Basically, Sam and I came upon Ethan after he and Tom had a run-in with some criminals. Then, Tom found us, and we all decided it made sense to travel together since we were headed the same way.”

“That’s definitely the condensed version,” Sandy said with a hint of laughter and a tinge of cynicism.

Danny cringed. They’d already told Sandy and Bishop most of what happened. She was going to leave out the details of her and Tom’s first encounter, but to her dismay, Tom told her everything. Right down to him tackling her and putting her face into the ground before she pulled the gun and nearly shot him. Danny figured it was some displaced need to confess everything he’d done wrong to his mom, but she was afraid it would just make things awkward between her and Sandy. Based on the older woman’s comment, Danny guessed she was right.

“Yeah,” Tom agreed with his mom, and Danny held her breath. “Let’s just say that despite my misguided efforts, Danny still managed to save Ethan and reunite us.”

Danny let out her breath, thankful she wouldn’t have to go into some long, drawn-out explanation with her dad. She was already emotionally exhausted and the beer was making her sleepy.

“It sounds like you were lucky to have Danny around,” Bishop said.

Danny began to grin, but her expression froze as several images came to mind. Blinking to clear her head, she took another long swallow of beer. “It went both ways,” she finally said.

“What do you know about those men we saw in the mountains?” Tom asked, clearly thinking back over some of the same encounters as Danny.

“Not much,” Bishop answered. He stood and tossed another log on the fire, sending a cascade of glowing embers up into the darkness. “There have been some random attacks on a couple of the other communities we’ve connected with through the Pony Express. They’ve avoided Mercy so far, but probably only because we’ve closed down our roads and have armed guards.”

“There’s been rumors of them being everything from the militia to our own military,” Sandy added.

“They’re neither,” Danny said hollowly. “We’ve come across both, and those pigs are nothing more than thieves and killers. They aren’t fighting for anything, and all they care about are themselves.”

“Desperados,” Bishop said, as he stared at Danny and Tom through the fire, and she thought the way he said the word implied he’d dealt with such men before.

“Desperados?” Sam asked, speaking for the first time since going outside. Grace had chosen to sit at his feet, and he rubbed absently at her ears. Danny noticed he’d been unusually quiet the whole day. She suspected Sam was thinking more about his wife, now that they’d stopped running.

“It means a desperate or reckless criminal,” Bishop explained.

“Seems fitting,” Danny agreed. She watched as Sandy reached out to take Bishop’s hand, apparently drawing comfort from the contact. It was clear the two had gotten close over the past two weeks.

“I don’t care what we call them,” Tom said solemnly. “So long as we do something about them.”

“Like what?” Tane asked.

Tom glanced over at Danny, and then Bishop. “I know the trail they’re using to move back and forth between the freeway and their camp.”

“So?” Sandy said, her voice strained. “You said yourself there was upwards of a dozen armed men. What do you want to do, attack them?”

“The riders went missing somewhere along the freeway between Helena and Mercy, right?” Tom asked Bishop, ignoring his mom’s question.

Bishop nodded. “We got confirmation from the station in Helena that the riders had made it there and were headed back.” When Danny raised her eyebrows at him, he explained, “We were able to get the station set up with a ham radio.”

Rubbing his hands together, Tom then held them out toward the fire to get warm. “That makes sense. The trail puts out about forty miles south of town. I’d be willing to bet that’s where the riders were ambushed, and probably where they’ll be waiting to jump the next riders, too.”

Bishop downed the last of his beer, stood, and then went to get three more bottles from the nearby picnic table. Returning with them, he handed a fresh one to both Tom and Danny. “You’re thinking we get there first?”

Danny watched as the two men exchanged a silent, knowing look. They were both men with strong personalities and opinions, and she was thankful they appeared to be on the same page.

Popping the top off the bottle, Tom tipped his head at Bishop. “I think it’s time someone shut them down.”

Her pulse quickened at the thought of going after the thugs she’d seen butcher the two riders from Mercy. Danny knew she should probably be troubled that it excited her. After all the talk of wanting nothing more than to reach Mercy and find some peace, in less than twenty-four hours, they were already planning yet another fight. Maybe that was simply the way of things now.

As Danny contemplated the emotions she felt, she realized that it wasn’t the thought of killing someone that thrilled her. It was because they were finally on the offensive. Instead of running and fighting for their lives, they were getting a chance to stand their ground and take back some control by making the first move.

Leaning back in her chair, Danny raised her bottle to Tom. He held her gaze for a moment, and wisely didn’t attempt to talk her out of getting involved. Instead, he tapped his drink against hers in a toast, his face shadowed in the flickering firelight.

“Here’s to a successful hunt,” she murmured, her voice low and dangerous.

Chapter 9

JAMES

Master Sergeant, US Marines, 1st Force Reconnaissance

Cheyenne Mountain Base, Colorado

The accommodations James and his 1st Recon Unit were assigned sat on top of Cheyenne Mountain, which was how James wanted it. He couldn’t handle the thought of sleeping underground, and had made it well known to Colonel Walsh when he’d told the team they would be staying there indefinitely.

The building couldn’t be called a barracks, as it was much nicer than what the word normally referred to. It was a single-level structure with six bedrooms, a full kitchen, and a central living space. James was told it was previously used for visiting personnel, or dignitaries and their entourages who chose not to stay in the mountain. Apparently, he wasn’t the only soldier who suffered from claustrophobia.

While the electrical system had been fried the same as any other building that wasn’t shielded, free-standing lights had been brought in and were plugged into their own generator. Considering they had real beds, as well as space heaters for when it got chilly at night, they pretty much had all the comforts of home.

Except it wasn’t home. James put a worn picture of his wife and daughter back into his wallet and walked out into the central room. He’d been doing a lot of thinking, and it was time to have a talk with his teammates and friends.

“Hey.” Jay was already there, working on a sudoku puzzle. “What’s up, Sarge?”

“Where’s Lucas?”

Jay frowned at him. He didn’t usually call them by their first names when in uniform of any sort, unless something was going down. “He’s, uh, in the head.”

Sergeant Lucas O’Grady walked out then, a hunting magazine in his hand. “Don’t know what I was thinking,” he mumbled, tossing the magazine onto a table. “Too dark to read anything in there without a flashlight.”

“You hear about the attack on the FEMA shelter in Arizona this morning?” James asked, watching their faces closely.

Jay nodded. “Things are heating up.”

Lucas sat across from Jay and he looked up at James, his lips pursed. “You know, for a secret facility, they’re not very good at keeping secrets.”

Jay threw his pen at him. “It’s not a secret anymore, you moron.”

“He’s got a point,” James said, interrupting their banter. “If you think about it, there’s only one source of information both coming in and going out of this mountain. They got a report on the wire this morning and by dinner, everybody knows about it. Only reason that happens is because they want everyone to know about it.”

Lucas was pointing at him and bobbing his head in agreement. “Exactly! I don’t like it, man. It smells funky.”

“Why?” Jay asked, leaning over to retrieve his pen. “What’s the point?”

James crossed his arms over his broad chest and narrowed his eyes. “Because information is power. Let’s take a walk.”

Jay and Lucas exchanged a puzzled look, but didn’t question their sergeant. Wordlessly, they followed him outside and across a small patch of grass that served as a green space, and then onto the tarmac. James didn’t speak until they’d passed their Huey and stood on the edge of the hill, overlooking the valley.

“We’re deep into something none of us wants to be involved in,” he said stoically.

“You think our quarters are bugged or something?” Jay asked, glancing back nervously over his shoulder.

“Highly unlikely,” James said, still staring out at the darkening landscape. “But I’m suddenly feeling a bit paranoid.”

Lucas swallowed audibly and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his fatigues. “Since when do you get paranoid, Sarge?”

“Since I found this.” He turned then and silently held up a small piece of rolled-up paper. It was a narrow strip just wide enough to accommodate two rows of typewritten words.

Jay took it from him with a scowl and clumsily unrolled it between his fingers. “Next asset is a governor. Missions = lies. Time to choose sides. Admiral assassinated. All who oppose will die. Dad is alive.” Jay’s expression was pained as he stared at James. “Where’d you get this?”

James sighed and took it back, quickly stuffing it into his pocket. “When I got back from lunch, my Glock was out of the rack and set on my bed.”

“Who’d touch your gun, man?” Lucas whispered, looking more concerned with each passing minute.

“No one,” James said curtly. “That’s the point. I figured I better break it down since I didn’t know if someone had messed with it, and that’s when I found it. In the barrel.”

“That’s some serious 007 shit right there,” Jay said, rubbing his jaw and copying Lucas by looking behind them.

“I never was a fan of spy drama,” James said dryly. “I prefer a more direct approach. You know, as in, say it to my face and let’s be done with it. I’m not buying into this cloak-and-dagger bull.”

“It doesn’t even make much sense,” Lucas said, mulling it over. “So what if the next asset is a governor? What admiral was killed, and which sides? And if that was meant for you, why are they talking about your dad?”

James huffed once and glanced at Jay. His friend had been smart enough not to push the issue about his dad being on the Survivor List, and agreed not to tell the rest of the team. Now things were going from weird to bizarre, fast, and James needed help figuring it out. “The last asset was my father,” he said bluntly.

Lucas took a step back and needed all of about ten seconds to process the information before moving beyond it. “I knew your dad was in the military, man, but why would he be on this list?”

His friend’s ability to take in the big picture rapidly was the main reason James was pulling him in. “I honestly don’t know. He’s been involved in some black-ops stuff, but I’m not aware of anything that would earn him a spot on the most-wanted list. I figure he either knows something that the government believes will be critical in our rebuilding, or else it’s too dangerous for him to fall into the wrong hands.”

“Namely, anyone other than our own military,” Lucas added.

“At least you know he’s alive,” Jay offered.

James would have smiled in agreement if it weren’t for the hard knot in his gut. It had started forming when he first unrolled the note and had been growing ever since. “Why would a governor be important?”

Lucas squinted at him, thinking about it. “Because they now represent what’s left of the civilian government. Something the brass seems to be at odds with right now.”

“I don’t follow,” Jay complained.

“After the president and vice president, the senate is next in line,” James said, trying to follow his friends train of thought.

“Yeah,” Lucas confirmed. “The senate was in session when the flashpoint happened, so we should consider them gone. That would make the governors next up.”

“So?” Jay asked, clearly growing agitated. “Why do we care? We’re under martial law; it doesn’t matter how many governors are left.”

“Actually, it does,” Lucas countered. “Since I seem to be the only one who understands the government we’re sworn to serve, I’ll explain it to you.” When James glared at him, Lucas threw his hands up defensively. “Okay! I’ll keep it simple. Basically, the governors can all declare themselves senators and then, if enough of them get together, they can basically appoint one of them as the new president.”

“Who could then overturn martial law and reinstate civilian authority,” James finished, grasping the magnitude of the position they were in.

“So, you think our next asset is going to be one of these governors, and if our mission is a lie—”

“Then we aren’t really going to be helping them,” James interrupted Jay. “We’re being used to shut it down.”

“The admiral?” Jay asked.

“Still no clue.”

“Again,” Lucas said, throwing his hands up in the air. “Unlike you two, I’m actually friends with our pilot.”

James shook his head. “And this matters because?”

“Our pilot?” Lucas interrupted, pointing over at the Huey. “Lieutenant Jeff Carpenter. You know, the guy who’s been risking his butt on every mission we’ve been out on? Yeah, that one. Well, I talked to him today.”

“And?” James pushed, losing his patience. It wasn’t the time for twenty questions.

“He told me about how he flew one very pissed-off Admiral Baker to FEMA Shelter AZ1 two days ago.”

“Baker,” James muttered. “Isn’t he one of the higher-ups here?

“He’s one of the command chiefs,” Jay confirmed. “They’ve got his picture hanging in the mess hall with the other three.”

“Why would an admiral go to a FEMA shelter?” James asked, the knot growing a little bigger.

“According to him, and the earful he gave the whole crew during the flight, it was because he didn’t get along with General Montgomery and his…command decisions,” Lucas said, confirming what James already suspected.

“I’m guessing he was ‘opposed’,” Jay said with angst. “And that maybe he happened to be one of the casualties in the attack we were all sure to be made aware of.”

James looked at each of his friends and teammates in turn, knowing they’d support him no matter what he decided. “I have a mission briefing with the general tomorrow.”

“What are you going to do?” Lucas asked, going back to glancing over his shoulder.

A light breeze kicked up then, carrying with it the faint smell of the smoke that still lingered in the valley. It was a stark reminder that while they enjoyed the luxuries of power and comfort, everyone else around them still suffered. “First, we’ll carry out our mission and get the governor, but we’ll be making a detour before taking the asset anywhere.”

Jay and Lucas both lifted their chins in response, and any sign of flippancy or fear dissipated from their demeanors. “Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

James, encouraged by the show of support, gave a curt nod back. “For whatever reason, whoever gave me this warning feels my father is important in all of this, and I think I know where to find him.”

Chapter 10

EDWARD

Oregon Coast

Edward lit another candle and then pocketed the lighter as he shuffled slowly across the shadowy family room. The house groaned around him, making sounds he’d never heard come from it before. That was saying a lot, since he and his wife had lived there for over fifty years.

The age-old saying that it was always darkest before the dawn was proving to be true. The unbelievable storm had been raging all through the night, and now that they were finally, at long last, inching toward sunrise, Edward couldn’t seem to keep the darkness at bay.

“Edward?” Margaret’s voice was small and timid. It was yet something else Edward had never heard before, not even during the past eighteen days, after the end of the world. His wife was scared.

Stubbing his toe on a table as he fumbled in the dark, Edward bit back the blasphemous words threatening to tumble out and hopped the last few feet to the couch. His old bones creaked when he lowered himself next to Margaret, another reminder of his eighty-four years on the blasted planet.

“I’m here,” Edward said, entwining his hand with Margaret’s gnarled fingers. In addition to her failing sight, rheumatoid arthritis was busy sucking the life out of her joints. He’d refused to put the love of his life into assisted living, even when her memory started to fade and he would sometimes find her wandering the beach, unsure of where she was.

“It’s only a storm,” he said soothingly. Except that Edward wasn’t so sure. Their home on the Oregon coast was solid and built to withstand the storms the Pacific Ocean sometimes hurled their way, but the tempest screaming at the doors was unlike anything he’d experienced. Not even in Alaska, or Florida, or all the foreign seas he’d sailed while in the Navy. It was…malevolent.

The storm surge was the first real sign that it was coming. A monstrous influx pushed ahead of the low pressure that had swelled around their five-acre property and cut off any escape, though attempting to leave was never a realistic consideration. On the other rare occasions that the winding country road was flooded by local streams after heavy rains, they couldn’t even get through in a vehicle. This was much worse and didn’t seem to be getting any better.

Since the event, Edward and Margaret hadn’t been able to leave their home. The nearest town was a ten-minute drive and while Edward might have managed the walk if given enough time and favorable weather, he couldn’t leave his wife alone for that long.

They were prepared. At least, Edward had always thought they were well prepared for any unforeseen disasters. Living on the West Coast for over half a century, the couple was well versed in all of the potential threats. They’d been through the eruption of Mount St. Helens, weathered the threat of a tsunami on more than one occasion, and had their fair share of power outages. In addition to sitting on top of the most dangerous subduction zone in the world, they also had several active volcanos close enough to warrant preparedness. They had a storm wall installed between their home and the wide, white-sand beach they were blessed to own. They had an expensive generator, lived on a well and septic, used solar panels, and had vast gardens that helped stock their root cellar.

Less than three weeks after the lights went out and they were cut off from any supplies, Edward knew that it wasn’t going to be enough. Nothing they did could have prepared them for what happened, although he wasn’t sure exactly what it was. Certainly, some neighbors had stopped by and they’d conversed about what was being said by people in town or those passing through. It was hard to filter out the tales from the reality, though the most likely scenarios presented were either some sort of radioactive wave from space, or a coordinated attack.

For Edward and Margaret, the what didn’t really matter so much. They would run out of food and a means to get fresh water long before that would be of any significance. Another monstrous gust of wind shook the walls, threatening to rip them apart. Perhaps the food and water didn’t matter, either.

The west coast of North America didn’t usually get hurricanes, since the water wasn’t warm enough to feed the storm. Every once in a great while, California could see the tail end of a typhoon sucked up from farther south, though that was nothing compared to what currently raged.

“Are the kids coming?” Margaret murmured, leaning into Edward. “I hope they aren’t getting too wet. I’ll need to turn the oven down so the turkey doesn’t get dry.”

Edward closed his eyes and tried to settle his thoughts. He’d rather deal with the storm than his wife’s failing mind. “No, my dear. The children are safe.”

There was a sudden lull in the howling, and then the atmosphere seemed to change as the air itself grew dense. In the shock of the silence, Edward looked down at Margaret’s frail form enveloped in his arms and knew they were on a precipice. He thought back over all the special phases of their lives. The births of their children, the countless holiday dinners, camping trips into the mountains. The death of a grandchild, and the marriage of another. The first time he held his great-grandson. A faint smile was tugging at his lips when the pent-up breath of the night was released, and slammed into their home with a force only Mother Nature could produce.

“No!” he protested, angry that of all the many trials they had overcome, it would be the sea, their refuge, that would claim them in the end.

Margaret screamed as the windows imploded and the roof began to lift, and Edward squeezed his arms even tighter to spare her as much as possible. The storm was inside then; cold tendrils of the night that reached out and embraced him in a deadly caress, tearing at his clothes to expose his flesh. The candles were instantly snuffed out, plunging them into an eternal darkness.

They were but one house of thousands in the path of the hurricane’s destruction, and it was only the first of many that would reshape the West Coast of America.

Chapter 11

GENERAL MONTGOMERY

Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Colorado

General Montgomery led the way through the secondary blast doors of Cheyenne Mountain, and then watched the expression on Corporal Dillinger’s face as the internal mechanism groaned until the rods slid into place, effectively sealing them inside.

“Ahem.” Corporal Dillinger tugged at his uniform and took a moment to gather himself before meeting the general’s inquisitive stare. “A very…interesting sensation.”

A rare smile softened the general’s features. He appreciated the honest reaction. Most attempted to shrug off the discomfort of being shut inside the granite bunker. It was much better, he’d come to understand, to simply accept the low-level sense of doom and heaviness as a part of the experience. “You’re at the mercy of the mountain now,” he said dryly.

The general had personally met Dillinger on the tarmac. The gesture was nothing more than a maneuver to briefly bolster the man’s feeling of importance and loosen his tongue. Although, Montgomery was looking forward to giving him a tour of the complex. He enjoyed strolling the numerous, cavernous rooms and didn’t have many opportunities to do it. “Have you had breakfast?” he asked, always the gracious host.

“Yes, sir,” Dillinger barked. “Before leaving Peterson this morning. Though they clearly still have some obstacles to overcome, I’d say they’ve got the civilian unrest under control. In that part of Colorado Springs, anyway.”

Montgomery scoffed in response. He didn’t need, nor did he ask the corporal for a report on the state of his city. He could have had Dillinger brought straight to the mountain the night before, and given him much nicer accommodations. However, the general saw no reason to provide the corporal any unnecessary reasons to inflate his already healthy ego. He made a point, therefore, of establishing right away that the lowly FEMA shelter commander wasn’t worthy of a port in the mountain. He could wallow below, and come only once beckoned. It made the current meeting more compelling. Dillinger was a grunt, and the general knew how to deal with them. It was all about posturing and respect.

After an hour, the general had led Corporal Dillinger through countless tunnels and rooms of various sizes. His personal favorite, the underground lake, had the expected effect, so by the time they left, Dillinger was noticeably silent.

As they ascended back the way they’d come, Montgomery waited, letting the minutes roll by until the other man finally cleared his throat. “Something on your mind, Corporal?”

“Well, sir, I can’t help but think that you had me flown all the way down here for something other than a tour.”

Again, with the bluntness. A corner of his mouth turned up; Montgomery glanced back over his shoulder. “One of the reasons I wanted to show you this facility is because my gut tells me you’re a man who appreciates parallels.”

“Sir?” Dillinger sounded genuinely perplexed.

“Take this bunker, for example.” Stopping, General Montgomery turned to face the corporal, his expression stoic. “Right now, we are standing in the heart of a mountain. A literal marvel of mankind’s ingenuity. It is likely the only place on Earth still functioning at such a capacity, and yet…” Twisting slightly, he lifted an arm and pointed at red words that had been painted on the wall years earlier.

Without power it’s just a cave

“You’re right, Corporal. I did summon you for a reason.” Montgomery folded his arms over his chest. “I’ve been impressed with your continued progress at the shelter, as well as your ongoing requisitions. I read the latest reports yesterday morning regarding the cattle and farms in the neighboring towns of Monida, and I wanted to talk with you about heading up a task force to implement the same strategy on a broader scale.”

Dillinger looked from Montgomery, to the red words on the rock, and then back at the general again. “Yes, sir. I’d be honored. And I understand.”

“Do you?”

Dillinger shifted his feet slightly but didn’t look down at them. Yes. He understood the game very well. “Without a show of increasing power now, we risk being reduced to nothing more than an army of aimless men, instead of an assemblage of warriors.”

Montgomery gave one curt nod in confirmation, while resisting the urge to correct the other man. Let Dillinger and his men think of themselves as warriors, if that’s what they needed. However, for the general and his crusade, it was more about becoming a sovereign regime.

“Tell me about the resistance you met,” Montgomery asked as be began walking again. “The report was vague.”

Dillinger waved a hand dismissively. “It was a couple of days ago. The owner of Duke Ranch is a pigheaded, obstinate man. Refused to hand over the requested cattle. It was unfortunate, really. No one had to die. It was over quickly and we’re now using the farm as an additional center of operations for the area.”

“Looked like a good spot for one on the map I have,” the general said with approval.

“It isn’t without its drawbacks,” Dillinger mumbled.

“Such as?”

“Those farmers have a strong sense of loyalty,” the corporal explained, as if that were a bad thing.

Montgomery knew that was the very reason why it was essential to establish military authority in that part of the country right away. Control of the livestock and farmland would be critical in the years to come. “They’re refusing to work?”

Dillinger nodded. “Most of them walked away instead of conceding, and there’s concern they might regroup and try to eventually take their property back.”

“We’ll have to make sure that isn’t an option,” Montgomery replied. “Let’s not discuss forced work camps yet, however. Let’s start by trying to reason with them. Offer compensation, in the form of shelter, food, and medication. A few weeks out there on their own, I imagine you’ll be able to entice a fair amount back without any further violence.”

“There might be another element to factor in,” the corporal said, and Montgomery stopped and looked back at him. He could tell that whatever it was, it warranted his attention.

“Yes?”

“While we were searching the Duke residence, we found some maps,” Dillinger said, pausing to look up at the rock ceiling high overhead when the venting system moaned to life. “They were out in the open and had some very specific markings which I believe involves a rather impressively organized supply train called the Pony Express.”

“The Pony Express?” Montgomery chuckled, finding it humorous that Dillinger would think some vain attempt at running mail could pose a threat.

“Well, it’s a vague reference,” the corporal said gruffly, clearly disliking being laughed at. “We’ve heard of it on multiple occasions now, and it appears to connect no less than four or five different communities. A form of networking to share needed goods and information.”

General Montgomery canted his head slightly at the mention of information. He narrowed his eyes. “And you think this supply train could somehow lend assistance to our vagrant farmers? Help them to organize?”

“Perhaps,” Dillinger said, clearly relieved that the general recognized his train of thought so easily. “It’s already being seen as a sign of civilian success and is encouraging to the small communities that are scattered throughout the state of Montana and into Idaho.”

Idaho. Montgomery frowned. Not a state he wanted associated with civilian organization and accomplishments. “I take it there’s more to this?”

The corporal’s lip twitched and his nostrils flared. “Yes, sir. We believe this Pony Express is originating from a small mountain town called Mercy. It also happens to be home to one of the largest cattle farms in that part of the state.”

“Mercy,” Montgomery muttered to himself. “Early on,” he said, recalling the name. “We had some form of communication established with them. If I remember correctly, it has a population of barely more than five hundred and is deep in the mountains, isolated by a valley.”

“Yes, sir. But the resources would outweigh the disadvantage of being remote.”

Montgomery stared hard at the corporal. “I know I’ve read some reports mentioning Mercy more recently.”

Dillinger hung his head for a moment and scratched at his jaw. “It was included in my report, sir, about the rancher who gave us so much trouble at the shelter.”

The general raised his eyebrows.

“He’s Thomas Miller. The owner of the cattle ranch in Mercy. And, it’s also been under a self-imposed quarantine for nearly two weeks,” Dillinger continued. But I believe—”

“So, this is personal,” Montgomery spat.

The corporal’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed. “No, sir. But it is about me having personal knowledge of the town, the kind of man Miller is, and that he runs a very successful ranch.”

“How successful?” Montgomery asked.

“At least twice the size of Duke Ranch.”

General Montgomery carefully considered the information as the ground under their feet vibrated slightly, another unsettling component of the ventilation system. “Conceivably large enough to warrant lying about a contagion to keep the military out.”

Dillinger smiled. “Yes, sir. I suspect so.”

His mind made up, Montgomery pivoted, his shoes squeaking against the granite, and began walking back up the tunnel. The corporal scrambled to catch up and walk alongside him. “Okay, Corporal. Get me proof that Mercy is the base of operations for this Pony Express, and that the quarantine is a charade, and I’ll give you the orders you want.”

“I’ll start right away,” Dillinger said excitedly. “I mean, after we’re done planning the next phase, sir.”

Montgomery stopped in front of the underground diner, aptly named the Granite Inn Dining Room. “We can hammer that out over lunch,” he scoffed. “I imagine it’ll be a simple matter of logistics and getting you the manpower you need. Walsh will see to that. You can head back tonight, if you like.”

Instead of being insulted by the quick dismissal, the corporal stood even straighter and gave a brisk nod of his head. “Yes, sir. I’d like to get back as soon as possible. Can I ask, sir, if the other helo is available? While I was happy to learn Malmstrom got one of their old birds flying, I can’t say I’m convinced it’ll stay in the air.”

“No,” Montgomery said unapologetically. “It’s needed for an important assignment.” As the corporal tried not to look put out, he decided to further establish the need to impress him. “And Corporal, for your pet project, I only want you using boots on the ground. No extra resources are to be pulled for this.”

“Understood, sir,” Dillinger answered without hesitation. “I’ve already got everything I need near Helena. A warrior knows how to be resourceful.”

Montgomery hated to admit it, but he did admire the man’s tenacity. Perhaps there was something legitimate to the corporal’s concern. It certainly would be nice to secure a thousand or more head of cattle.

“I’ll get you your proof in three days,” Dillinger promised, his demeanor unflinching. “And then, I’ll get you Mercy.”

Chapter 12

TOM

Sheriff’s Office, Mercy, Montana

It was a weird sensation, riding down the Main Street of Mercy on horseback. Other than when he’d been talked into a parade or two as a boy, it wasn’t something Tom thought he’d ever do.

At the southern end of town, he and Bishop made a stop at the sheriff’s office while everyone else continued on to the spring. It was still really early in the morning, but his mom said the sheriff was pretty much living at the station, so they figured he’d be there.

Sure enough, Sheriff Waters emerged from the back room with a steaming cup of coffee in hand shortly after the front door chimed, announcing their arrival. “Tom. Bishop,” he mumbled, lifting the cup in their direction. “Would you like some coffee? It’s good. You know, being the coffee addict that I am, one of my earlier concerns after the power went out was that I wouldn’t be able to brew a pot anymore. Why I’ve never used a French press, I couldn’t tell ya. Always took the instant packets when I went hunting. Anyway,” he continued after taking another long sip from the mug, “best darn stuff I’ve ever had. Thank God Mr. Sullivan had a couple of crates of beans in his storeroom. Although, I figure we’ll have to learn how to grow and make our own at some point.”

“Sure, Sheriff. I’ll take a cup,” Tom said, enticed by the smell and entertained by the dialogue. Though the sheriff hadn’t lived in Mercy for all that long, they had gotten to know each other reasonably well. The man had the unique ability to always be present in the moment. To slow things down and focus on what most others would pass over. Tom suspected it came from being a cop in a big city for so many years before he moved to Mercy.

Bishop held a hand up. “You know I don’t usually drink it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re an odd man,” the sheriff chuckled. “Come on back into my office, guys. I’m glad you stopped by. I wanted to talk with you, Tom.”

Tom followed the older man into the large room with a bay window that overlooked Main Street. It allowed in enough light to reveal a cot in the far corner, and a scattering of personal belongings on the couch and counter. Tom helped himself to the coffee, and then chose to stand since there really wasn’t anywhere to sit.

“Sorry about the mess,” Sheriff Waters muttered as he leaned on the edge of his mahogany desk to face them. “I usually tidy up before anyone comes in.”

“We’re not here to judge your housekeeping abilities,” Tom said with a grin.

“But we do need to talk about a few things,” Bishop added in a more serious tone.

The sheriff sat his mug down and crossed his arms while nodding his head. “I figured you would. Tom, we’re all glad you’re back, of course, and I hope you understand why we’re in need of your cattle. I’m sure your mom explained we’ve had her full cooperation?”

“She did,” Tom confirmed. “Honestly, I’m on board with the whole exchange plan, Sheriff. I saw enough out there to be able to say with certainty that the only way we’re going to survive and preserve our town is to do it together. Having said that, I want it understood that Miller Ranch won’t be a part of any forced participation.”

“Now Tom, the council—”

“The council knows nothing about your and the mayor’s plan to move to stronger tactics should the need arise,” Tom interrupted, his voice gruff. “I get where you’re coming from, Sheriff…I do. You can try and hide behind the excuse that it’s what’s best for the town all you want; it still comes down to why we fight to live and also how we do it. It can’t be at the cost of others’ lives or freedom. Not when we have other options.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you have all our problems figured out in the twenty-four hours you’ve been back.” The sheriff rose slowly and stretched his back, wincing. “That cot is doing a real number on me.”

Bishop and Tom exchanged a look, but remained silent as the lawman for Mercy mulled over his response while slowly going through the motions of preparing more coffee for the press. Dumping the old grounds in the garbage, he took the kettle off a tiny butane camping stove where it was heating.

It wasn’t until he’d poured the water and moved the pot aside that he finally addressed them. “Okay. I can live with that, and I suppose it was wrong of Patty and I to discuss such things outside of the council. You know me, Tom. A politician I’m not. I’m happy to leave the policy-making to others while I focus on upholding ’em.”

While Tom never thought the sheriff would offer much resistance, he was still relieved. They all needed to be on the same page to make things work.

“And Patty?” Bishop asked.

“Patty’s tired,” Sheriff Waters said bluntly. “Don’t judge her too harshly. You haven’t been here. She’s held up better than most would, with more weight on her shoulders than anyone should ever have to bear. She won’t disagree with you, Tom,” he continued, resigned. “You offer the council a way to keep us all fed this next year and Patty will be happy to go along with whatever your plan is. That’s all she wants.”

“We need to talk with you about those men we encountered in the mountains,” Bishop said, changing the subject. Tom was coming to understand that Bishop was exceptionally organized in his thinking and execution. Since they’d gotten the response they needed from the sheriff regarding the cattle, it was time to move on to their next objective. The speed with which he shifted tactics and direction wasn’t a personality trait Tom expected from a man who worked a cushy desk job in the city.

“What about them?” Sheriff Waters asked, pushing the plunger down on his brew.

“Something needs to be done about them,” Tom said brusquely. “Soon.”

The sheriff peered at Tom over his steaming mug and raised his eyebrows. “And what sort of something would that be?”

“Our understanding is that the next rider is still scheduled to go out in two days,” Bishop said.

“Yup,” the sheriff confirmed. “I talked it over with Barry, the guy riding next, and he’s still willing to run it so long as we send a few extra guns out with him. One of my deputies and two others already volunteered. We’ve been waiting on some much-needed meds and can’t put this run off.”

“Good,” Tom said. “Then we’ll only have to scrounge up a few more.”

“A few more what?” Sheriff Waters pushed, his patience with them clearly running out.

Bishop took a step forward. “A few more volunteers. We figure there’s a good chance the desperados know the route and maybe the schedule. They’re using the trail that connects that valley to the freeway. Odds are they’ll be waiting either just north or south of it.”

“Only, we’ll be prepared,” Tom cut in. “And this time, they’ll be the ones ambushed.”

Sheriff Waters set his coffee down and tugged at his gun belt before hooking his thumbs in it, squinting at Tom. “Aren’t you the one who just got done lecturing me about how we can’t do anything that jeopardizes the freedom or lives of anyone? And not a minute later you’re suggesting we ambush and kill upwards of a dozen men?”

“I’d say closer to nine or ten,” Tom corrected. “And this would qualify as one of those situations that can’t be avoided.”

“They attacked us first,” Bishop said, staring back unflinchingly at the sheriff. “I talked with Jed and he confirmed that he was jumped near where that trail comes out. He was lucky the priest came along when he did, and that there weren’t more of them. They’ve already killed two of our riders, and they’ll kill more if we let them. Eventually, they might get bold enough to come to Mercy. If we act now, we still have the advantage and the element of surprise. With more time, their numbers will likely grow and there’s a good chance they’ll also get more organized.”

“Oh, I see,” the sheriff huffed. Moving behind his desk, he stood staring out at Main Street. “Sounds like you’ve got all the justification you need.”

“Sheriff.” Tom walked around the other end of the desk so they were facing each other. “We need your support in this.”

Sighing, the sheriff ran a hand along the edge of his unshaven jaw, clearly unhappy with the position he found himself in. “I’m not saying I disagree,” he finally said, still staring outside. “Hell, I’ll even offer to go myself. One of those men they killed was a friend of mine, Tom.”

The sheriff turned to look at him then, and Tom was reminded of some of the lighter conversations they’d shared over the past few years, back when things were normal. Waters was a good, fair man, and it was unsettling to see the scorn in his eyes.

“I just want to make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons.”

“Our options are limited, as well as our reasons,” Bishop answered for Tom. “Unless you want to drop the gag order and reach out to the military for help.”

“Like I said,” Sheriff Waters voice had grown more of an edge to it. “I don’t disagree, and the military isn’t likely to be a better choice.”

“I think we can all agree on that,” Tom said.

“What about the civilian government?” Bishop suggested.

Tom looked at him, surprised. It wasn’t something Bishop had ever mentioned before and he felt like he was being blindsided. “What do you mean? Last I heard, the civilian government didn’t exist.”

“Maybe not at the federal level, but what about the states?” Bishop stood with his arms resting behind his back as he faced the other two men. “I’d imagine there’s got to be some disagreement going on given how the military is literally invading their states. We’ve been going through all of this blind so far. I’m simply suggesting that we attempt to get a little broader focus.”

Tom studied Bishop’s face for a moment, trying to figure the older man out. All of a sudden, he was an advocate for the state government? His eyes narrowing, Tom carefully chose his words. “I don’t see how we could possibly defend isolating ourselves from the military while at the same time trying to reach out to anyone else.”

A light knock at the partially open door interrupted them, and Tom turned to see a middle-aged man he’d never met before standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Uh, sorry to interrupt, Sheriff. I was on my way back to the church and thought I’d stop in to see if you’re done writing your eulogy for Father White.” His voice was a little too syrupy for Tom’s liking and he would have never taken the man for a priest. Maybe an insurance salesman.

Sheriff Waters grunted and then sorted through some loose papers scattered on his desk. He didn’t look too happy about it as he grabbed a page and then walked it over to the man. “Tom, this is Father Rogers, our new pastor,” Sheriff Waters said as an afterthought while handing the priest the paper.

Father Rogers nodded in Tom’s direction and folded the eulogy in half. “Nice to meet you,” he said somewhat dismissively, before turning back to the sheriff. “Thank you, Sheriff. I’ll be sure to have Madeline add this to the service.”

As Tom watched the man leave, he noticed he was wearing regular street clothes and didn’t have a collar or anything else to designate himself as a pastor. The bell chimed as he opened the front door, and Tom frowned. It hadn’t rung when Father Rogers came in, making him wonder just how long the pastor had been standing there, listening to them.

Chapter 13

CHLOE

Natural Spring, Mercy, Montana

Chloe led Ethan to where all of the tools were stored, while glancing over her shoulder at the tumultuous sky. She was already getting stressed out over another storm that was forming, even though it was well south of the valley. “Here,” she said, handing him a hammer. Ethan ignored the tool and moved past her to start rummaging through the large wooden box.

“I prefer this kind,” he said, stepping back with something that looked more like a sledgehammer to Chloe. “And I’m guessing I’ll probably need one of these, too.” He held up a saw and grinned when she rolled her eyes. “What? You think I don’t know my way around a toolbox, Chloe? You know who my dad is.”

Snorting, Chloe snagged a bag of nails from Caleb before he went back to unloading more supplies from the nearby wagon. The Spring Clearing, as they’d come to call it, was bustling with activity that morning. After the last storm, everyone decided that they should build a protective shelter over the main body of the spring.

Sam confirmed the night before that their suspicions were right about the rain. It was becoming toxic to the plants and fish, and could eventually contaminate their drinking water. Thankfully, the source of the water was deep inside the earth so they should be able to keep it drinkable by keeping most of the rain out. Sam suggested constructing the building a minimum of ten feet to either side, to avoid groundwater leaching in.

Chloe noticed where the stakes were set for the foundation poles, and figured it was going to be closer to fourteen feet, which would give them a sizeable building when they were done. Bishop mentioned using it to store some of the water, so they’d have a healthy supply in two different areas. Apparently, keeping all the goods in one place made it “vulnerable”. To what, she wasn’t sure and didn’t ask. Some things were better left unsaid, and Chloe was trying really hard the past few days to be more optimistic.

Ethan picked up three eight-foot lengths of two-by-fours and they walked together over to where the construction was just getting underway. “I don’t think I know anything about you,” Chloe countered. “Except what your grandma told me, and what I could get from a year-old picture.”

“Oh, yeah? And what was that?” Ethan asked, seeming amused by the conversation.

Chloe bit at her lip. She wasn’t sure why, but there was something about the guy that threw her off. Her normal snark was markedly slow on the uptake and she was way overthinking what she was going to say. Maybe it was his broad shoulders, or incredibly enticing green eyes—

“Earth to Chloe,” Ethan called, nudging her arm.

Blushing, she tried to recover any potential cool points that might remain. “Honestly? A kid about three inches shorter with a fondness for chess and an obvious wheeze.”

“Ha!” Ethan chortled. “Yeah, Grandma likes to brag about how brilliant I am. I mean, she’s right, but I’m more of an outdoors kinda guy than your normal nerd. I don’t even play chess…much.”

“Bring those over here!” Sam called to them as Grace ran up and tried to take one of the boards in her mouth.

“No, Grace!” Ethan ordered, laughing at the dog’s antics. “Leave it. This isn’t yours.” Looking heartbroken, the retriever barked once and then ran off to find a real stick.

“She’s a smart dog,” Chloe giggled, and then slapped a hand over her mouth. She didn’t giggle. Ever.

“Shh, don’t let her hear you call her a dog.” Ethan dropped the boards at Sam’s feet and then gave the older man a mock salute. “We’re here to do your bidding, sir.”

Sam returned the salute with a small gesture toward his forehead and then pointed at the obnoxiously long hammer. Raising his dark eyebrows, Sam shook his head without comment.

Chloe had been around the four newcomers for barely more than twenty-four hours and she was already envious of their friendship. She’d only heard some of the things they’d been through together while on the road, and she suspected the rest was the sort of stuff that could make strangers closer than some families.

“Sandy said you have quite a bit of knowledge about the rain,” Patty said in greeting as she approached the three of them. Chloe was happy the mayor was there that morning. She hadn’t seen her much the past few days, and had been wanting to set up another time to go out to their place again to help in the garden. Sandy and Patty were a lot alike, but Patty had a way of engaging Chloe in some fascinating conversations that reminded her of time spent with her dad. The last time she went over, they sat in Patty’s garden pulling weeds for nearly two hours, talking the whole time about space, the universe, and what a black hole was.

“I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call it knowledge,” Sam replied, leaning on a shovel. “More of a supposition. There’s probably more reliable information in the books at your school in town.”

“Perhaps,” Patty said while pulling on some work gloves. “Except that I can’t have a conversation with a book, can I?” When Sam shook his head and smiled, she took a step closer and smiled at him. “I’d like to invite you to our next council meeting, tomorrow morning. Tom is already going and I think it would be very beneficial to get your input on some things, too.”

Sam scratched his head and wrinkled his nose at her. “I’m not much for committees, Mayor. I’ve sat on enough to last a lifetime. What sort of input are we talking about?”

“Oh, nothing scary,” she promised, waving a hand in the air. “A firsthand account from someone who understands a bit of the science behind what’s happening would be very educational. Most of what we’ve garnered has been via some tapping on a ham radio and word-of-mouth from our Pony Express riders. We’ve been blessedly sheltered from a lot of what’s going on, but I’m afraid it’s also limiting our view, if you know what I mean.”

“The view’s just fine here in Mercy,” Ethan offered. “Trust me.”

“Well, I did hear someone asking about indoor farming,” Sam said. “It might be something worth talking about, because if you’re going to attempt it, you’ll need to start soon before the ground pH is altered by the rain.”

“See? That’s exactly why we need your input!” Patty said, clapping her hands together enthusiastically. “We’ve already got some great greenhouses on a few farms, but I know we’re going to have to do something on a much grander scale if we plan on feeding our whole community.”

Chloe grinned as she watched Sam nod. The man was already sucked in over his head and didn’t even know it yet. It was a talent of Patty’s that Chloe suspected had helped make her successful as mayor.

“Maybe a few old barns?” Sam was obviously thinking out loud. “You’re going to want to be close to a fresh water supply, of course, and have either sunlight or some sort of rigged artificial light, which would obviously be difficult. Solar panels?”

“How about a cave?”

Patty and Sam turned to look at Ethan, who shrugged at them. He pointed toward the mine opening. “Henry’s Hollow. You know the story, Patty. The old miner, Henry, found it early on when they started that mine. It’s bigger than two of the school gyms put together, and has a couple of natural chimney holes that let in some light.”

“You’ve been in it?” Patty asked, her eyes wide.

“Of course!” Ethan said, as if offended, which made Chloe laugh. He narrowed his eyes at her before turning back to the mayor. “A lot of us kids have been at some point. It’s our county version of a haunted house.”

Chloe guessed he was referring to a sort of rite of passage. Like the more typical haunted house in the town where she grew up, where you’re dared to go and touch it. Some kids took it further and threw rocks through the windows of the old, abandoned mansion, but Chloe refused to go along. Always the rebel.

“It’s dangerous in there,” Sandy said, joining their group. “When the mine was abandoned, they left a bunch of crap behind in that cave, including their old dynamite.”

“So we clean it out,” Sam suggested.

“You know how to handle old, crystallized dynamite?” Sandy asked.

When Sam shrugged his shoulders, Patty wasn’t discouraged. “I’ll bet our friend Bishop, as a civil engineer, knows a thing or two about handling explosives.”

“I saw him and Tom ride up a few minutes ago,” Sam said. Chloe noticed how he seemed to have forgotten everything he’d just said about not wanting to be on a committee, and was just as eager as Patty to take on the new project. “Let’s go find Bishop and see what he thinks.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Ethan called after the adults as they all walked away together. “We’ll just stay here and build stuff, even though the cave was totally my idea.”

Chloe chuckled, relieved it didn’t come out as another giggle, and picked up the shovel Sam dropped. Normally, she didn’t get along very well with guys who were younger than she, but Ethan was mature for his age. Maybe it was because of what happened to him in the past three weeks. “When’s your birthday?” she asked without really thinking about it first.

Ethan looked at her in surprise, confused by the sudden change in subject. “Um, about ten days…I think. I’m still not real clear on what day it is.”

“It’s June 30th,” Chloe explained. “And my birthday is next month.”

“You’ll be seventeen?” Ethan asked, sounding suddenly shy.

Chloe wagged her eyebrows at him and enjoyed seeing him squirm a little. “Nope. I will be an adult, so I believe that means you’ll have to do what I say.” He seemed to relax when she joked about their nearly two-year age difference. She was a little surprised to realize that it mattered to her that Ethen knew she didn’t care he was younger. Because…she liked him. Against every rational thought she could have come up with over the past two weeks when imagining the boy and his dad traveling to get home against all odds, she liked Ethan.

“Tell ya what,” Ethan said, putting an arm around her shoulders as they walked to where everyone was gathering to get further instructions. “If you promise to ignore our age difference, I’ll give you a private tour of Henry’s Hollow.”

Enjoying the sense of security and belonging his closeness gave her, Chloe smiled up at him. “It’s a deal.”

Chapter 14

DANNY

Outskirts of Mercy, Montana

The wagon rattled over the gravel road, jarring Danny’s bones with every little bump. She couldn’t imagine how the pioneers rode for weeks on these things when there weren’t even any roads. It made sense now, the pictures she’d seen of the weary travelers walking alongside the covered wagon, instead of inside.

A large container of water was carefully centered in the back of the cart, and secured with several straps to prevent it from shifting. It was the third run of the day to bring the much-needed spring water to the distribution center set up at the northern edge of town.

“You guys consider adding some sort of shock absorbers to this thing?” Danny said to her father, who sat next to her holding the reins. She was impressed with how comfortable and happy he still looked so late in the day. It was the first run she’d made with him and her backside was already sore.

Chuckling, he moved slightly on the creaky bench seat so he could face her while they talked. “I imagine this takes some getting used to. This new one is quite a bit smoother than the original.”

Danny raised her eyebrows. “Really? I can understand why it broke apart, then.” She regretted the words as she watched her father’s face cloud. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right. I know you lost some friends in the accident.”

“We’ve all lost friends,” Tane replied, facing forward again. “And loved ones.” He glanced sideways then, and Danny knew he wanted to say something more but was holding back.

She wasn’t taking the bait to start a deep conversation. That wasn’t why she’d volunteered to ride with him into town. All Danny wanted was a few minutes of near-normalcy with her father. Although another storm was getting closer, the weather was holding for the moment. The sun was warm on their backs, the birds were singing, and little white fiber clouds from the cottonwood trees floated in the air around them. It was all set against the vivid backdrop that was the valley of Mercy. Every direction Danny turned, there were more majestic mountain ranges, the bases blanketed in evergreens. They rose to startling heights, bare rocks jutting up to form various craggy outcroppings that looked like they touched the sky. Except for the browning of certain types of trees, the wilderness appeared immune to the death and destruction that was raging in the rest of the world.

“It’s easy to forget here,” Tane said, accurately reading his daughter’s silence.

Danny only nodded. She was afraid to speak, because then it would all be real again.

“You still haven’t said anything about your mom or grandparents.”

There it was. Danny took a collective breath. “I’m sorry.”

Tane audibly sighed and it made Danny cringe. Her father had a way of saying more without any words. “I’m not fishing for an apology, Danny. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on inside your head. I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m sitting right here.” She looked out at the passing scenery, anywhere except her father’s face.

“That’s not what I mean.”

Danny clenched her jaw, and the bump on her forehead ached like a beacon that was still active in a storm. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Are you upset that I’m leaving to go on the ambush?”

“You mean the raid?” Tane asked, his displeasure obvious.

“You don’t want me to go,” she accused, still watching the passing trees.

“I don’t understand why you would want to go, but I’m not going to ask you to stay. You’d only resent me.”

He was right, just not about the resentment. She closed her eyes, shutting out the sun and forcing herself to look inward. Danny had spent the past three weeks fighting to get to Mercy under the pretense of reaching her father because he needed her. Now that she was there and discovered how well he was doing, maybe she was continuing her search for…what, a purpose?

“Not everything has to be a fight.” Reaching out, Tane took her hand and Danny felt like a child again, when the simple touch of her father made her fears fade away because she knew she wasn’t alone.

The emotion was so powerful that it created a stabbing pain in her chest and stole her breath for a moment. He was right here. Her dad. Her family…her reason.

“I’m so sorry, Makua Kane,” Danny whispered, using the Hawaiian name for father, something reserved for times of endearment. Leaning against her dad’s broad shoulder, she squeezed his hand in acknowledgement. “I have thought of mom, and grandma and grandpa. I believe in my heart that they’re okay.”

Tane squeezed her hand back. “Your heart has always had some pretty accurate radar. What is it telling you now, keiki?”

Danny grinned. It used to infuriate her when her father called her keiki, or child. “It’s telling me that I need to remember what brought me here in the first place. Not to seek revenge for what happened along the way.” When her dad glanced at her hopefully, she dropped his hand and gave him a quick hug. “You don’t need to ask me to stay. My place is here, with you. I’m sure Tom and Bishop will have all the help they need.”

Tane’s smile was big and contagious. “You know, once we are caught up with the water today and have the second wagon and shelter at the spring built, we won’t need the extra help.”

“Already trying to get rid of me?” Danny joked.

The road leveled out as they reached the bottom of the hill, and Danny could see the school building and beyond it, what used to be a gas station. There were several people milling around it and the large parking lot across from it, where lines were forming for water. She was surprised at how many people there were. Even for a town with a population of around six hundred, it was clearly a monumental task to keep them all fed and provide them with fresh, drinkable water. Danny couldn’t imagine what it must be like in the larger cities after so much time.

Tane gestured to the school. “Dr. Olsen could really use some help at the clinic. She’s a great physician and there’s one other nurse aside from Mayor Patty, but no one who has the sort of training in emergency medicine like you do.”

“What about the fire department?” Danny asked, not sure what she thought of the idea. “I know they’ve got to be small, but don’t they have any EMTs?”

“Whoa,” Tane called out to the horses as they approached their destination in the parking lot. “I imagine Chief Martinez must be certified, but I’m not sure about any of the others. They’ve only got a few responders and have really struggled to figure out a workable system.”

Danny mulled it over as she jumped down and stretched out her legs. She watched while several organizers approached the wagon and immediately began to fill smaller containers full of water. Within minutes, they formed a type of water brigade and it didn’t take long before the tank in the middle of the lot was filled enough for the line to start moving as people got their shares.

They did it without a lot of talking, and the water was handled like the precious commodity it was, so no more than a few drops were spilled. Danny was impressed with the camaraderie. There wasn’t any pushing or shoving, or arguing over who got there first or that they wanted more. Although, she noticed there was a uniformed police officer standing by and watching. Danny imagined that things might have been a bit rougher in the beginning, and there was bound to be someone who wasn’t as cooperative every once in a while, but to see what they’d accomplished was inspiring.

Strolling to the far side of the lot, Danny looked up Main Street and to where the fire station was located. She’d driven past the building numerous times over the past couple of years, but had never been inside. Thinking about getting back to the basics of being a responder had a certain appeal to it. Standing there, seeing the actual people of Mercy working together for something better sparked a flame that had long ago burned down to nothing more than a smoldering ember.

Danny wanted to help them.

Chapter 15

ETHAN

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

The storm broke loose without much warning, and wind-driven rain lashed out at Ethan’s face and tugged at his hat. The sky danced with the same odd-colored lightning as before, giving him flashbacks from when the tree fell on him. It was hard to believe that had only been four days ago.

Ethan struggled to control his horse and he had to admit he was thankful his dad insisted he not ride Tango. Tango wasn’t trained for working around cattle, although Ethan had argued the best way to teach him was to just do it. It wasn’t taking much to establish his arm still hurt, even when riding a well-trained cattle horse. Tango would have already dumped him. Several times.

“Ethan!”

He looked to where his dad was calling him, and saw that several cows had broken off from the main herd and were pressing up against a section of weak fencing. The rain was coming down so hard that it was difficult to see, even though it wouldn’t be dark for a couple more hours.

Ethan urged his horse forward and together, he and his dad managed to corral the frightened cattle back in with the rest of the cows in the upper field. They weren’t far from the lake and a decent distance from the barn. It was going to be a long, cold ride back once they were done.

When the storm had picked up speed and drawn closer late that afternoon, his dad pulled him from his work at the spring. The ranch still had to be their first priority and they couldn’t risk losing any of the cows. Especially not with them calving. Bishop and the others stayed to try and finish the covering before the rain hit, their group dinner cancelled.

“Let’s ride the line!” Tom called, already turning back to the fence.

Line rider would be Ethan’s primary job, now that he was back at the ranch. It was a tedious, lonely job of riding for miles, every day, checking the barbed wire fencing that marked the edges of most of their property. It would entail patrolling the boundary, turning back any stray cattle, and making what would likely be countless repairs. He would also always be checking on the condition of the grazing fields and water supply.

With such a huge spread, Miller Ranch usually employed two fulltime hands, one of whom did nothing but ride the lines. Ethan had helped the summer before and actually enjoyed it, except when there was bad weather. At the moment, his dad was only referring to the upper field, which was where most of the calving cattle were at since the lake provided them with a constant supply of water. Normally, they’d be down closer to the barn.

Thinking of the hired hands reminded Ethan of his conversation with Sam earlier that day. “Sam said he’s going to stay in the bunkhouse!” he shouted to his dad, curious what he’d think about it. The bunkhouse was basically a room added on to the back of the barn. It was drafty and sparse, but had two beds and a good woodstove.

“I know,” Tom answered, as they moved nimbly along the back of the field. “I guess he and Bishop have decided to become roommates.”

“You gonna try and talk them out of it?” Ethan asked. While he hated to think of Sam basically living in a barn, it would be really nice to have his room to himself.

“No point in trying.” Tom had to shout to be heard over the wind. “Bishop insists on giving me my room back, and I’m pretty sure Sam has already started to refinish the floors. They’ll probably have it shaped up in no time, and then you’ll want to move out there, too!”

A bolt of bluish lightning pulsed directly over them, branching out across the ravaged sky to strike at the side of the mountain, no more than a few miles away. Ethan ducked instinctively as the thunder crashed almost simultaneously. His horse lurched sideways, and he watched as his dad’s reared up, screaming and eyes rolling.

“Whoa, Lilly!” Tom shouted, nearly coming unseated.  The sure-footed horse sidestepped and then slipped in the pooling water before finally stamping her hooves and snorting loudly, while Tom expertly handled her, talking soothingly all the while.

Ethan was always enthralled when watching his dad on a horse. It was like the animal was an extension of him, instead of something he rode. Ethan was a good rider, but he knew he’d never match his dad’s skill.

A gust of wind slammed into him, and Ethan turned his face into it, noticing the change in temperature. It was markedly warmer and coming from the opposite direction. His dad picked up on it, too.

“It’s shifting,” Tom said, his voice carrying more easily in the sudden lull as the wind died just as rapidly as it came.

Ethan watched in stunned amazement as the boiling clouds overhead began to lift above the undercurrent to form mammatus clouds, as Sam had called them. Fat, drooping bubbles like the underside of a frozen pond. The whole system moved to the east and took the rain with it, which could be seen as a wall of water working its way up and over the distant ridge.

In the storm’s abrupt wake, the setting sun from the opposite direction burst through and cast long arms of light to chase after it. With the lightning still dancing among the retreating clouds, the contrasting images were like an apparition from another world.

“So, this is what it’s going to be like from now on?” Tom said from below him. Ethan looked down to find his dad had dismounted and was staring up at the sky while talking, unable to look away.

Ethan dropped to the ground next to him without answering. There really wasn’t anything to say. They were powerless to control any of it and had no option other than to accept it for what it was.

Tom shook his head and then removed his cowboy hat to push the hair out of his face. Ethan was surprised he hadn’t cut it yet, and he’d never seen it so overgrown. With the beard and left-over bruising, his dad had never looked more the part of a rugged cowboy. “We’ll just check the rest of this back fencing and call it good. Looks like there’s clear skies now. For a little while, at least.”

“I’ll ride the north line tomorrow,” Ethan offered, as they began to walk their horses. With over five thousand acres, it came out to roughly eight square miles of land. He could easily spend most of his time on the one task.

“Sounds good,” Tom agreed. “Except we’re going to need to get the rest of the hay cut as soon as possible.”

Ethan groaned. Cutting and baling hay was hard enough when you had working farm equipment. The idea of going at the field with a sickle and ball of twine made his hands ache. “How much did Grandma get done? And is it possible to get that old tractor running? I mean, how many electrical parts can be in it? It’s ancient.”

Tom chuckled and replaced his hat. “Mom only got the first quarter of the crop done. She was two days into it when the gamma ray hit. And as to the tractor, I guess Bishop has spent several hours going over it with the same thought. He’s got some parts on our most-wanted list for the Pony Express riders, but it’s not very likely we’ll ever get them. Unfortunately, being so old makes it harder, because even when the power was on, finding spare parts for it was a trick.”

Ethan kicked at a rock and watched it roll through the grass that was heavy with rain. The ten acres of hay was what they used to feed the cattle over the winter, and to supplement the grass year-round. With the acid rain effects already starting to show, there was no telling what would happen to the crop in the years to come, or if there would even continue to be a crop. It reminded him of the conversation earlier that day with Sam.

“You hear about the whole indoor farming thing?”

Tom tugged at a loose stretch of wire and then went back to Lilly for his tools to tighten it up. “Sam mentioned it when I saw him this afternoon. He’s going to talk about it more tomorrow at the council meeting, but I don’t see how we could possibly grow enough hay inside anywhere.”

“Henry’s Hollow,” Ethan offered. “It’s got to be close to three acres, don’t you think?”

“I’ve got a farm out here to worry about,” Tom said, twisting the wires tight while deftly handling the tools. “We need to focus on saving the hay that’s already here, and that means getting an early start on cutting tomorrow. Don’t worry about the line for now. Bishop and I will help with the hay tomorrow, so we should get a good jump on it before we leave.”

Ethan looked back when his dad stopped talking and saw that he was staring at him, waiting for a response. “Okay…I’m sure Chloe will help me.”

“Ethan, we haven’t really talked about what’s happening with the ambush.”

Ethan studied his dad’s face for a moment, gauging his reply. “What’s there to talk about?”

Tom shoved the tools back in the leather saddlebags and then frowned at him. “I know you’re probably expecting to go, but I need you to stay here.”

“Still trying to protect me,” Ethan muttered before walking away. He didn’t even want to go, but the fact that his father continued to treat him like a child was frustrating.

“Of course, I am,” Tom said, his voice rising. Falling in step alongside him, he reached out to stop Ethan. “I’m your dad and I’m always going to protect you. That’s my job. But that’s not what this is about. I know you can take care of yourself, Ethan, you’ve proven that. More than once. You might even have a valid argument that you’ve done a better job than me these past few weeks.”

Ethan grunted at that and even grinned a little. “Honestly, Dad, I wasn’t planning on going.”

Tom looked at him in surprise. “I figured I’d end up having to chain you to a fence somewhere.”

Ethan’s smile faded. “I’ve seen enough death. I know we need to stop these guys, and I’m probably being a coward. But, as much as I wanted Decker to die, and even dreamed about different ways to do it, when I saw him dead, I didn’t feel any better. I just felt empty and I don’t want to feel that way anymore.”

“That’s not being a coward,” Tom said, in a way he’d never spoken to Ethan before. It was how he talked to Sam, or Danny, or the other people he respected. “I need you here to take care of your grandma, and to watch over the farm. She’s lost too much and I can’t intentionally put you in harm’s way. We can’t do that to her.”

As Ethan nodded, Tom reached out and pulled his hat off, ruffling Ethan’s hair the way he used to do when he was little. It was such a simple gesture, and one that spoke of a time back when they were always together and before the world had gone crazy. Ethan stepped forward and welcomed the strong embrace of his dad as he took one long, shuddering breath. He finally understood that being a man wasn’t necessarily about being a rock. Sometimes, like his dad, he was beaten down or even wrong, but his dad was still there. He was always there.

Reluctantly, Ethan moved out of his dad’s arms. He was ready to step up and be there for both his dad and grandma, and the people of Mercy who were counting on their farm to help keep them alive.

“It’s going to be okay,” Tom said, his voice raspy.

Ethan drew from his dad’s strength and the knowledge that he always followed through on his promises.

Chapter 16

RUSSELL

Mercy Clinic, Mercy, Montana

Danny Latu was like no other creature Russell had encountered before. Her deep voice first caught his attention when he entered the clinic and heard her talking with Melissa. But it was her dark, exotic features that captivated him. As he drew close, he saw that he was only a couple of inches taller than her and her shoulders were nearly as broad as his. Yet, she somehow managed to look feminine.

“Father Rogers,” Dr. Olsen beamed when she saw him. “It’s good to see you. I wasn’t sure if you’d be by this morning.”

“Melissa, I’ve told you a dozen times to call me Russell,” he said humbly, knowing she’d be happy he used her first name. “And I’m a little hurt you thought I’d abandon you so easily. I know how busy you are and I’d never miss an excuse to spend some extra time here.”

Melissa blushed and then seemed to realize she’d failed to introduce him to the new, mysterious woman. “Oh! Fath—I mean, Russell, this is Danny Latu. She just got here a couple of days ago. Her dad is Tane Latu. Can you believe she traveled all the way from Salt Lake City, after her plane died at the airport? That’s probably even farther than you made it.”

“Salt Lake,” Russell said, fully turning his gaze on her for the first time. Reaching out to shake her hand, he noted what a firm grip Danny had. “Why, we weren’t all that far from each other at some point.”

Danny cocked her head questioningly at him. “Oh?”

“Yes, I came north from the southwestern corner of Wyoming,” Russell explained. “Most of it was spent on a bike.”

“We used Interstate 15,” Danny answered without a lot of interest. “We were lucky enough to have horses, though we started out on bikes.” She kept glancing around the room, rather than at him, and Russell found it quite irritating.

“Ah, I kept east of you, then, on Route 89. We?” Russell pressed, although he clearly didn’t have her attention. “You weren’t traveling alone.”

“No, Danny was lucky enough to run into Tom,” Melissa explained for her, when Danny didn’t answer right away. “Tom Miller,” Melissa added as if that should explain everything.

“I’m afraid I haven’t been in Mercy long enough to know very many people,” Russell said, offering Melissa a small but ineffective smile.

Danny finally focused on him again with a pained look. He suspected the journey wasn’t something she normally chose to discuss, for understandable reasons. “My friend, Sam, and I came across Tom and his son in Idaho. His mom is Sandy Miller. They own Miller Ranch.”

“Of course,” Russell said with a quick nod of his head, though he’d known who Tom Miller was as soon as Melissa offered his name. He’d spent enough time listening to Patty drone on about him. “I heard Sandy’s son had come home. I think I might have actually met him yesterday, although I never caught his last name. What a blessing.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed for a moment and Russell had to resist the temptation to squirm. How curious. He’d have to get to know her better.

“It’s been nice meeting you,” Danny said dismissively before shifting her attention back to the doctor. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow and set up a time for us to get together. I need to go have Crissy introduce me to her and Chloe’s friend.”

“Oh, yes, that would be Trevor,” Melissa laughed. “Do me a favor and make sure he doesn’t get out of the wheelchair. Today is the first day I’ve let him out of bed and I’m concerned he’s going to sneak off and undo all the work I did on his leg.”

Russell looked past the women as they spoke and watched with some apprehension as a large golden retriever loped across the room. “Who let a dog in here?” he asked with contempt.

Danny frowned at him and Russell could feel his initial attraction for her turning to disdain. “That would be me,” she said without any hint of contrition. “Her name’s Grace. I thought she might be able to help lift some spirits. Isn’t that something you approve of, Father?”

Russell understood then the level of Danny’s intelligence, as well as her keen intuition. She was someone for him to avoid, not dance around with, and he was instantly annoyed with himself for not realizing it sooner. It proved how he was already getting too comfortable with his role in Mercy and was further evidence that his time to move on was quickly approaching. “I think that’s a marvelous idea,” he said to Danny without any inflection while backing away. Unfortunately, the dog followed him. As he turned around, Grace growled deep in her throat, and he quickly retreated without looking back.

Russell headed directly for the first-grade classroom that had been converted to a supply closet. His desire to spend the morning flirting with Melissa had soured, so he’d fold some sheets, stock some Band-Aids, and then find an excuse to leave early. Perhaps he’d take a stroll through town for inspiration. He wasn’t sure yet how he was going to leave Mercy, though he had no doubt it would all be clear to him soon. The picture was already painted, he simply needed to stand back far enough to see it for what it was.

As he turned into the hallway, the sound of a man coughing drew his attention. Entering the front of the building was the councilman that Patty didn’t get along with. Russell’s unease from only moments before was instantly replaced with a confidence he was more familiar with. The vain man was easily manipulated, and he’d already considered seeking him out. They needed to talk.

“Gary, what are you doing here? I certainly hope you aren’t ill.”

Gary turned and attempted to wave off Russell’s remark. “Thank you for your concern, Father, but it’s only a head cold. I went to Mr. Sullivan’s to get some over-the-counter medicine, and he told me Patty and the sheriff took it all from the store several days ago. I have to come here and get permission from Dr. Olsen to give me some.”

Russell crossed his arms over his chest and tsked disapprovingly. “That seems rather excessively controlling, don’t you think?”

Gary wiped at his nose and shrugged. “Maybe. Though I’m sure Dr. Olsen won’t have any problem giving me a decongestant.”

“That really isn’t the point, is it?” Russell pressed, his face pinched with concern. “Oh, I suppose a councilman won’t have any issues getting the medicine, and especially not the mayor. But how about someone else? Say, an elderly woman who’s been unable to carry water or bring food in for the market. Would she be turned away?”

Gary squirmed uncomfortably and glanced down the hall, toward the clinic area in the cafeteria. “I don’t really see how that’s relevant, Father.”

Russell raised his eyebrows and looked down his nose at the man until Gary finally shifted his gaze to stare at his own feet in shame. “I feel it’s quite relevant in light of the conversation I overheard yesterday.”

This caused the reaction Russell expected, and the councilman jerked his head back up, his eyes widening slightly. “What conversation would that be?”

Russell first looked left and then right, to ensure that they were alone and to make Gary feel he was part of a privileged discussion. “I was collecting eulogies for Father White.” Russell paused and swallowed hard, like he was overcome briefly by emotion before continuing. “I inadvertently heard Bishop and that new fellow in town, Tom, talking about something concerning with Sheriff Waters.”

Gary’s eyes narrowed. “What was it?”

Russell shook his head regretfully. “I wasn’t going to say anything because gossip is the devil’s language. However, I keep seeing more evidence of the power-hungry leaders of Mercy. I’m afraid there are those who want to take advantage of the genuine people such as yourself, Gary, and turn this into a dictatorship for their own gain. Even when that is at the cost of the safety and wellbeing of everyone else.”

Gary blanched and took a firm grasp of Russell’s arm, pulling him aside even though they were still alone in the hallway. “What are you talking about?”

“Were you aware that Patty intentionally misled our own military into thinking Mercy is in quarantine?” Russell studied the other man’s reaction. Interesting.

If he had to wager, he’d bet Gary already knew. Though he certainly didn’t approve, so that was all that mattered. “She and her supporters have effectively cut your town off from any outside aid. All under the guise of a runaway military that’s taking rather than giving.”

“We’ve all heard the reports—”

“From what?” Russell challenged. “A Morse code message that her husband deciphered and reports from some scared riders on horseback? You need to remember that I was there for one of those attacks, Gary. That Pony Express rider wasn’t attacked by our military. It was a teen boy and his starving friend.”

Russell took a step closer to Gary and lowered his voice so that he was almost whispering. “I gave your mayor and Sheriff Waters a firsthand account of my own, personal interaction with the military I encountered. It wasn’t far from here,” he lied. “And the only thing they did was offer me food, first aid, and shelter.”

“The council never heard anything about that,” Gary stuttered, clearly flustered by the information. Russell was taking a chance by lying. However, if he was questioned, he had told Patty about his run-in with the army near the reservoir and that could easily be twisted around in his favor. It was easy to bend the truth, so long as a thin wisp of it existed to manipulate.

Russell shook his head in despair. “Don’t you see? This is what I was afraid of! Information is power, Gary, and right now Patty has it all and is keeping the most important of it to herself.”

Gary stepped back and coughed once, covering his mouth absently, his cold forgotten. “I’ve heard rumors and tried to confront Patty about them, but she either denied or defended her actions.”

“Isn’t there a council meeting in a couple of hours?” Russell prodded, cocking his head slightly to study the other man. “Maybe it’s time you stepped up.”

Looking rather shocked, Gary stumbled back out the front door, apparently forgetting his cold medicine. Russell smiled and followed him outside, deciding to forgo any more community service for the day.

Chapter 17

PATTY

City Hall, Mercy, Montana

Patty couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a council meeting during the day, and she’d gone around and opened all of the windows so that plenty of light poured into the room. An hour later she was regretting it as she sat squinting up at Tom while he finished what she was calling a “presentation” to the council and town leaders.

Patty had several reasons for starting the meeting off with Tom’s personal account of their four-hundred-mile trek. Not only did it offer incredible insight into several facets of their societal breakdown, but it also revealed what was happening with the military. Her other motive wasn’t as obvious and even Caleb didn’t know what she was planning. A small smile tugged at Patty’s mouth and she nodded silently to herself in approval. She had slept soundly the night before for the first time in three weeks. Sitting there, watching Tom as he held the room’s occupants captivated, she knew she’d made the right decision.

“The day before we made it to the ranch was when we came across the desperados,” he said solemnly. “Near the Miner’s Trail, holed up in a small valley. I watched one of them slit Dan Erickson’s throat, except I didn’t know it was him at the time because his face had been mutilated.”

There were small gasps from around the table and Patty’s smile faded. She couldn’t bear to look down at the far end, at Mr. Sullivan. Dan was his nephew, if Patty remembered correctly.

“What are we going to do about them?” Betty asked, her voice thick. The councilwoman looked scared, and Patty felt that was a good thing. It meant Tom was getting through to them about how precarious their situation was.

“A group of us have volunteered to go out as an armed escort with the next rider,” Sheriff Waters answered. “We believe we know where they’re being attacked, so we’ll be ready for them.”

“And if they aren’t there?” Paul was the next to speak, and he kept glancing furtively beside him, at Gary. Patty suspected he already knew the answer.

“Then we’ll go to them,” Tom said, placing his hands palms-down on the table and leaning forward. “We stop them. Now, before they come to us.”

Patty carefully observed the affirming head gestures and spoken words of support for the plan, stopping when she made eye contact with Gary. He wasn’t joining in on the camaraderie and was instead staring at her with an open look of contempt.

“And by stop, you mean kill them?” Gary shouted, his words cutting through the murmurs and silencing the room.

Tom turned to the older man, his eyes narrowing. “I mean we’ll do whatever it takes to keep Mercy safe.”

“Whose decision was it to take our town to war?” Gary pushed. “I don’t remember there being a discussion about it.”

“Because there wasn’t one,” Sheriff Waters barked. “This is a security issue and since I’m in charge of security, Tom came to me, Gary. Anyone going is voluntarily doing it. You’re welcome to join us.”

That effectively shut the councilman up and Patty had to stifle a laugh, covering it by clapping her hands to redirect the groups attention. “I know Tom has given us a lot to think about and some of it might even make us question how we’ve been doing a few things, but right now we need to move on or else we’ll be here all day. We still have several items of importance to discuss.”

“I’m close to having my old motorcycle running,” Al offered, raising a hand.

“Isn’t that what you said at the last meeting?” Mr. Sullivan teased in an attempt to lighten the mood in spite of his family’s loss.

Al scoffed good-naturedly. “The last couple of parts were lost with the riders who were…well, I mean to say that the parts were stolen. I’m hoping we can manage to get them replaced in the next week or two. The old truck is proving more difficult, since I had to yank out the whole wiring harness. There’s ways to get around it all, of course,” he added, scratching at his head. “Except we’re nearly out of gas, so it doesn’t much matter if I get anything running.”

“Define ‘almost out’,” Bishop said, his concern obvious.

“After setting aside enough to run the generator at the clinic through the winter, we’re down to around fifty gallons of diesel and less than a hundred of gasoline.”

“We’ll have to start scavenging the vehicles in town and then move on to any we find on the outer roads,” Fire Chief Martinez suggested.

“Al has a valid point,” Bishop said. “We might be better off focusing our energy and resources on things that we know will still be working a year from now.”

“He’s right,” Sam added. “There won’t be anyone producing new gasoline for a long time. Possibly never, so finding parts to build more wagons might be wiser.”

When Patty saw more than one skeptical look, she stood and cleared her throat. “I know I briefly introduced Sam Ruiz, but I failed to mention he’s a chemistry teacher, as well as extremely knowledgeable in several areas. He’s already been a great help with suggestions to protect the spring water. He also has some ideas about indoor farming that I’ve asked him to share.”

“I’m a chemistry teacher, not a botanist,” Sam declared right away. “So, I’d like to start by saying that I need some volunteers to work with me on this project. Preferably people with some very green thumbs.”

There was some scattered laughter, and a couple of hands went up in the air, including Betty. “I was born and raised on a working farm,” she offered. “I don’t know much about growing plants inside, but I do know a lot about plants in general.”

“Excellent,” Sam said happily. Looking at Paul, the other volunteer, he handed two sheets of paper to be passed down to him and Betty. “Here’s a list of plants that grow well inside, according to the books I found at the school library yesterday and confirmed by Sandy Miller. We’ll need to get together and come up with a master plan on how and where to best grow them, and we need to start soon. I’m sure everyone has noticed the acid rain is already having an impact on some of the more delicate foliage.”

There were murmurs of agreement and Patty’s stomach clenched as she thought about the browning leaves she’d seen on her apple trees that morning. How much more would they have to overcome?

“Growing some herbs and fruit in a bunch of greenhouses is one thing,” Gary said, looking over the list Paul held out next to him. “But what are we going to do about the cattle? If the grasses and hay die off, so will the cows.”

Sam glanced at Tom and then Patty, before clearing his throat. “Henry’s Hollow.”

Gary looked surprised, but Paul nodded his head. “Yes, that could work. Being indoors, so long as we keep it watered and get enough light in through the natural smokestacks, we should be able to get several harvests a year to make up for the lack in yield.”

“You want to grow hay in a cave?” Al asked, perplexed. He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw and then shook his head. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“Indoor farming, and also what’s called vertical farming, has been around for thousands of years,” Sam explained. “It certainly isn’t new, and from what I’ve been told, this cave might be a perfect opportunity. It’s close enough to the spring that getting water in won’t be impossible and the natural holes in the ceiling can be used to redirect the sunlight, in addition to possibly some solar panels and other options I’m still exploring.”

“That old mine and cave is blocked off for a reason,” Chief Martinez said, frowning. “I’ve been in there myself, and I’m telling you it’ll be a lot of work to simply get it cleaned out. Then you’ll have to haul tons of dirt inside, and that’s after you come up with a way to safely move several crates of old, unstable dynamite.”

“Dynamite?”

Patty had forgotten Russell was there, so she was surprised by the priest’s question. Turning to him, she was curious about his reaction. He almost looked excited, rather than alarmed.

“And some of it’s crystalized,” Sheriff Waters added. “So, Chief Martinez is right. It’s probably unstable.”

“How many crates are we talking about?” Bishop asked, his face serious.

Chief Martinez shrugged. “I’ve got a detailed list somewhere at the station I can get for you. It’s been a few years, but I want to say at least seven or eight. Those are fifty-pound boxes.”

Bishop whistled. “That’s an awful lot of unstable explosives.”

The fire chief pursed his lips, looking irritated. “I’ve made two requests since I was hired to get a professional removal team in here. Gary shot it down each time, citing expense issues.”

Gary shrugged. “I’m sure at the time it wasn’t seen as a high priority. The material has been there for almost a hundred years without any problems.”

“I read that a mosquito landing on it can set it off,” Paul said, his eyes wide.

“That’s a special derivative of nitroglycerin,” Bishop corrected. “These old sticks are just straight-forward powdered nitroglycerin. If they’ve crystalized, then yeah, they’ll go boom pretty easily, but it’ll take more like a hammer strike than a mosquito,” he added with a wink. “I’ve worked with it before on some of my jobs, so I’m sure we can safely remove it. We’ll get to work on it as soon as we’re back from the…ride.”

“We’ll need to slaughter the cow for the next barbeque in a couple of days,” Patty said, trying to move the meeting along. “We learned last time that it takes longer than we expected. Tom has graciously agreed to continue to supply the town with the meat at our weekly dinners.”

“If I’m not back by then, I’ve instructed Ethan on where to pull one from,” Tom said. Pausing, he took a moment to look at everyone seated at the large table, as well Russell, who was leaning against the back wall again. “I want to make it clear that Miller Ranch will do everything in its power to help feed everyone in Mercy, but only if we’re all in agreement that we can never force participation in the food exchange. And I’ll never withhold food from someone who needs it, even if they haven’t contributed.”

Patty wished then that Sandy had come to the meeting. She would have been so proud of her son as everyone smiled at him in approval. However, Tom had explained that she, Chloe, and Ethan were busy working in the field cutting hay. He and Bishop needed to leave as soon as possible to get back and join them.

“Excuse me,” Russell said, clearing his throat. “Mayor Patty asked me to attend so I could update you all on Father White’s memorial service. It will be tomorrow evening, after dinner. I’m sorry that some of you will be gone and unable to attend,” he said, looking pointedly at Tom, Bishop, and Sheriff Waters. “I’ve collected some lovely eulogies, though I imagined I would have more than three by now.”

Patty wiggled guiltily in her seat. “I’m sorry, Father. I’ll get mine to you this afternoon. Thank you for organizing it.”

“Oh, you’ll have to thank Madeline,” Russell retorted, drawing some chuckles. “I’m simply doing her bidding at this point.”

“We’re running low on antibiotics again,” Melissa said, when Patty motioned for her to talk. “The loss of our riders and the medicine they’d found for us was a huge blow. Hopefully we don’t have any serious illnesses come up. Please remember that if you or anyone you know or see has obvious signs of something contagious, to take the proper precautions and let me know right away.”

Gary chose that particular moment to cough and all eyes turned on him. Blushing, he wiped at his nose and then sat up defiantly in his seat. “It’s a simple head cold,” he argued. “And I wouldn’t even have any symptoms if I’d been able to get some cold medicine,” he directed accusingly at Patty.

“And that’s somehow my fault?” she asked, finding his tone almost humorous.

“If it were only the medicine from Mr. Sullivan’s that was taken, I wouldn’t have such an issue with it,” Gary retorted.

“Really, Gary?” Chief Martinez said, rolling his eyes. “We made a group decision in the beginning to protect anything valuable in the store. I think any sort of medication qualifies.”

“Perhaps,” Gary agreed, his voice low. “How about the whole town?”

“What?” Betty asked, confused. “What do you mean by that?”

Patty exchanged a nervous look with Caleb. She’d been wondering how long Gary was going to sit on his suspicions and it looked like the time had come. She sighed, resigned to the situation. It didn’t really matter anymore.

“Haven’t any of you wondered,” Gary was saying, “why, after three weeks, and with someone communicating with the outside world via a ham radio, we haven’t had any direct contact with the military?”

“I think they’re a little busy right now.” Bishop’s voice sounded dangerous and Patty knew she needed to preempt Gary and diffuse the situation.

Standing slowly, Patty took a step back from the table. “What Gary is trying to accuse me of, in a rather roundabout way, is that I made the decision to intentionally mislead the military into thinking we’re still in a voluntary quarantine.”

Patty raised her hands to silence the buzz of conversation as several people tried to ask her questions all at once. “It’s true,” she shouted, already feeling the weight lifting from her chest. “And while it turned out that I wasn’t wrong, I could have been, and for that I am sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Gary yelled, also rising. “You made the unilateral decision to cut us off from help when we need it most, and you’re sorry?”

Caleb started to get out of his chair, but Patty stopped him with a light touch on his back. When he looked up at her, she simply smiled and shook her head once. She turned back to Gary. “Sit down.”

The councilman stared at her, mouth open, and hesitated. When he looked over at Paul for support, his friend remained silent. His face red, Gary made a show of slamming his hands on the table before doing as he was told and dropping back into his seat.

“You all know how much Mercy and the people in it mean to me,” Patty said as she moved to the front of the room, next to the whiteboard. “We’ve all watched the numbers drop these past three weeks. Today, the only reason I’m not forced to change it again is because Tom and his friends came home.”

Patty took a slow breath before stepping up behind Tom and setting her hands on his shoulders. “I’ll stay on as a councilwoman and be the same pain in the butt I’ve always been, but things have changed. The world has changed, and Mercy needs a different kind of leader. Effective immediately, I’m stepping down as mayor and I’m naming Thomas Miller the Interim Mayor of Mercy in my place.”

Chapter 18

DANNY

Mercy Fire Station, Mercy, Montana

Danny stood holding the fire helmet Chief Martinez handed her, fingering the dial in the back that adjusted the size. It was a habit she’d picked up during her initial training and never broke herself of. Most of the helmets were too big for her head, no matter how far down she dialed the inner meshing.

“I’ve got some gear that’ll fit you,” Chief Martinez was saying, continuing his recruitment attempt. It had been going for over an hour, ever since Danny arrived at the station. “Obviously not mine,” he joked, in reference to his short stature.

Danny was a couple of inches taller than him, though he was built like a tank. “One of our volunteers was out of town when it went sideways and hasn’t returned. He was tall and lanky,” he added, gesturing to one of the open lockers where all the gear was stored. Danny picked up a jacket with the name Johnson stenciled on the back and tried it on.

“You’re right, Chief,” she said evenly. “It fits.”

“Call me Carlos,” the older man scoffed. “We’re not formal around here.”

Standing there in the bunker gear, surrounded by the tools she was familiar with and the smell of damp fire that always seemed to permeate every fire hall she’d been in, Danny felt at ease. Less than a month before she’d been desperate to get out, to run away from the responsibilities and weight of the memories. Something had changed during the four hundred miles of soul-searching. Danny wasn’t sure if it was due to what was happening in the world around her, or if it was internal—it really didn’t matter. “You can stop trying so hard,” she laughed when Carlos approached her with a new pair of extrication gloves.

“Does that mean you’ll join us?” he asked hopefully, eyebrows raised. Between his bushy mustache and wild brows, there wasn’t much left of his face to see, though he was clearly smiling.

“It’s in my blood,” Danny said simply, knowing the career fireman would understand.

Nodding, Chief Martinez handed her the gloves and then walked to the open bay door. The early morning light offered a clear view of the interior, which housed two useless firetrucks. Some of the tools had been removed and were stacked on the floor around them for easy access. Danny’s understanding was that they were still attempting to respond to emergencies from the building, and took turns keeping the station manned with at least two firefighters in addition to the chief, who was living there.

Grace was having a grand time, racing from item to item and sniffing it with intense interest. The chief didn’t seem to mind and Danny imagined he’d be fine with making the retriever their mascot if it meant getting her on board. They were desperate for help and with Martinez being the only emergency medical technician, having a paramedic as part of the team was extremely appealing.

“We’ve got six volunteers,” Martinez explained, turning from the sunlight to look at Danny. “Two of them are new since the flashpoint, so you can imagine how rough around the edges they still are.”

Danny picked up one of the air packs and confirmed it was still working. She knew there wasn’t anything electrical in them. It was all pressurized, including the regulator and gauge.

“The PASS device and low air alarms don’t work, of course, but they’re otherwise good as new,” Carlos said, watching her examine the gear.

The PASS was a personal alert safety system that was normally tripped if there wasn’t any movement for thirty seconds, or it could also be triggered manually by the firefighter if they were in danger. The thought of entering a fire without either alarm was disconcerting, although without a working firetruck or ability to charge a line, there really wouldn’t be much need for the packs.

“I’ve been researching some of the old ways of fighting fires,” Chief Martinez said, following her train of thought. “I’ve got some ideas I’d really like to run by you, when you have some time.”

Danny set the pack down and then reached out to pet Grace when she ran up and slammed into her legs. “I’ve got some time commitments for the next few days, but I’ll be back,” she promised. “Meanwhile, how do we even know when there’s an emergency?”

Unclipping a radio from his belt, Carlos handed it to Danny. “With only seven of these working right now, we’re very limited. The mayor has one, Sheriff Waters, and Bishop for up at Miller Ranch. Then there’s one at the clinic, the two checkpoints, and here at the station. So, most of the time it’s still word-of-mouth. For that reason, we typically only respond to major incidents.”

“For example?” Danny asked, curious.

“Well, like the wagon accident. They needed both our tools and manpower, as well as help to safely transport the survivors. Any accident where there’s a substantial injury that requires boarding and properly securing the patient. Like the other day, we had a gentleman fall from a tree. Thankfully, Doc doesn’t think he broke anything more than a bone in his foot, but we had some concern for his neck at first. I might not have the personnel right now for much more than basic first aid, other than myself, but I still have all the gear. I’ve been working on teaching everyone more basic life support, and even some ALS.”

Advanced life support was usually reserved for paramedics and other health professionals, like nurses and doctors, but Danny could understand the need to extend the training to whoever was willing and able.

“We’ve been fortunate to have only had a couple of fires, after the initial ones were extinguished,” the chief continued. “Obviously, any fires require all hands on deck plus anyone else we can recruit to carry water. We can still gear up and get in a lot closer than anyone else to try and extinguish it, but we’re literally forming water brigades. That’s something else I’ve been brainstorming on and would appreciate input from a seasoned firefighter.”

“I heard church bells before when I was up at Miller Ranch,” Danny said while thoughtfully tapping at her chin. “Could you use something like that instead of the klaxon? I imagine that blew out just like everything else.” The alarm was often used in larger communities for rare occurrences like tornado warnings or tsunamis. Small communities still used them to call the volunteer firefighters to the station, instead of pagers.

“Yeah, its internal wiring basically melted into a blob,” Carlos confirmed. “There was no salvaging it. The church bell isn’t feasible because it’s on the opposite end of town and up a few flights of steps. In a major incident it might make sense, but not for daily stuff.”

Danny pivoted to study the vehicles behind them. One was an ancient tanker that had certainly seen better days, but the other was surprisingly newer-looking and appeared to be a decent rig. “How old is that?” she asked, pointing at the fire engine.

Carlos beamed, proud of his accomplishment even though it currently didn’t work. “After 9/11 the federal government was handing out grants like candy. Mercy was still sitting on theirs when I got hired, so I completed the process and was able to pick up this almost-new engine.”

Danny approached the bumper and confirmed her suspicions. Tapping the chrome device attached to it, she grinned at Chief Martinez. “Isn’t this pneumatic?”

The chief tugged at his mustache for a moment as he thought about it until the implication sank in. Snapping his fingers, he immediately went to grab a toolbox. “Of course! I mean, it’s hardwired into the truck, but I’m sure with a little work I can figure out how to manually activate it.”

Danny chuckled as she watched the man begin to dismantle the alarm, and was tempted to stay and help him. Except she promised she wouldn’t be gone for more than an hour. Without a watch she couldn’t be sure, but by the time she rode back to the spring, Danny guessed it was going to be closer to two hours. Their goal was to finish the shelter by the end of the day and she was committed to seeing it through. “I really need to get going, Chief,” she called out, unable to bring herself to call him by his first name. The man had been fire chief in Mercy for five years and had fifteen more years in the fire service in Spokane, Washington. It felt disrespectful not to recognize his position.

Tipping his hand in a mock salute while holding a wrench, Martinez gave her a wink. “Understood. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you around here next week, then. Meanwhile, you’ve already been a great help!”

Patting her thigh to call Grace, Danny headed out the bay doors. Squinting against the bright sunlight, she was surprised at how fast the day was heating up. It hadn’t been that warm for a while and she hoped it was a good sign for the weather. Going to where her horse was tethered, she stopped when she recognized a white horse coming up the road. “Tom!” she called out, waving a hand at him.

Tom shifted in his saddle and smiled warmly when he saw her. Urging Lilly into a trot, they kicked up dust as they came towards her. Grace barked once and then began to wiggle in excitement. Danny wasn’t sure if it was because of Tom or Lilly; the dog loved them both.

“Howdy, Mayor,” Danny teased when he got close enough so she didn’t have to shout.

Removing his cowboy hat, Tom chuckled while looking at her humbly. “How do you already know? It was news to me up until about an hour ago.”

“Chief Martinez told me,” Danny explained, tipping her head toward the fire station. “The title suits you,” she added.

Tom dismounted in one fluid motion, landing just a few feet from her. Danny was instantly aware of his closeness and found herself drawn to him. Normally, she would have stepped back, but looking up at his sparkling green eyes and overgrown mop of black hair, she had to restrain herself from reaching out to touch his face.

“I’m not so sure about the title,” Tom said, his voice softer than usual. “I tend to be a little impulsive. It might not be the best characteristic for a mayor.”

“Don’t worry,” Danny offered, holding his gaze. “I’ll be here to keep you in line.”

Tom’s eyes dropped momentarily to her lips and Danny’s breath caught as he took a step towards her.

“Hey, Mr. Mayor!”

Tom’s head jerked up as he sought out the source of the voice, and he lifted his hat to wave at a man riding by. “Hello, Eric!” he called back.

Danny tried to hide her disappointment as the spell, or whatever it was, broke and Tom moved closer to Lilly. He looked flustered and began tugging at the tack while attempting to make small talk. “You thinking of joining the fire department? Does that mean you’ll be staying in Mercy?”

Feeling bold, Danny decided to continue with her apparent quest that day of taking leaps. Moving up next to Lilly, she reached up and put her hand on Tom’s to stop his movements. “Yes, to both. And I’m glad I saw you, because I need to tell you that I won’t be going tomorrow.”

A rein still in his hand, Tom frowned at her. “Why not?” He must have realized how it sounded, because he rushed to cover up his initial response. “I mean, I’m relieved you’ve decided to stay. I’m just surprised because you were so…enthusiastic about it.”

Danny laughed and moved to her own horse, thinking over how to respond. She’d rehearsed her speech countless times the night before, but now it seemed like it would be best to keep it simple and straight to the point. “As much as I want to see those guys stopped up close and personal, my place is here with my dad.”

Danny was having a hard time gauging Tom’s reaction. He didn’t answer right away and his suddenly stoic demeanor reminded her of when they first met. The comparison was disturbing. Maybe she’d been wrong and his only interest in her was as a companion on the road or in a fight.

“I’m sorry,” he said earnestly.

Danny had dropped her gaze to stare at Grace’s ears while she rubbed them, and she looked up then, thrown off by both the words and his tone. Tom was staring at her intently. “Sorry for what?”

“For being selfish,” he said. “With both you and Ethan. He’s staying too, at the farm, which is where he should be. Just like you’re right to stay with your dad. It’s just that…I thought I’d have to force both of you to listen to reason. I don’t know why my first reaction is to feel abandoned or something, because that doesn’t even make any sense. I want you to stay here where you’re safe.”

Touched that he’d been so open about his feelings, Danny offered him an encouraging smile. “It makes total sense. We’ve all been through a lot and it feels wrong not to do it together.” Sticking her foot in the stirrup, she mounted the horse, wishing she didn’t have to get back to the spring.

Tom put his hat on and then smiled before leaping onto Lilly’s back. “We’re leaving early in the morning, so I need to get back to the farm and try to get some more hay harvested before we go.”

“Crissy told me about the big hay cutting when I saw her at the clinic yesterday,” Danny said. “Since we’ll be done at the spring soon, would it be okay if I went and stayed out at the farm while you’re gone? I can’t replace you and Bishop, but I can pull my own weight.”

“Ethan and Sam would really like that,” Tom said, looking relieved. “And it would be good knowing you were there.”

As Tom turned Lilly to face the other direction, Danny put a hand out to stop him. She waited until their eyes met before smiling playfully. “If it makes you feel any better, my first instinct was to go with you, Tom.”

Chapter 19

JAMES

Master Sergeant, US Marines, 1st Force Reconnaissance

Somewhere over Idaho

The helo put down in the small valley amid a whirlwind of dirt and debris, disturbing a small herd of elk in the process. James watched the massive beasts scatter, reminded of the numerous times he’s been in similar landscapes with his father on annual hunting trips.

The hilly region of southern Idaho was rather desert-like, with lots of brown grass and tumbleweeds. The area around Boise, the capital, was full of plenty of ravines and low mountains that made it easy to find cover. Masking their arrival was still tricky, however, so they remained some distance away from the target. They’d wait until dusk and stay close to the hills to try and distort where the sound was coming from.

Their mission approach was to drop in from a safe distance and hike for over four klicks to the property of the asset, Governor Alicia Jenson. Her estate was an impressive one hundred acres on top of one of the higher ranges that overlooked the city.

James had remained stoic while receiving his orders from General Montgomery the day before. Though he was disheartened to find the information they’d been slipped was true, he at least wasn’t surprised by it. James feigned some hesitancy when the general initially handed him the directive, especially when it was followed by strict instructions not to inform his unit of any details until they were on site. It would have been abnormal for him to simply accept it too easily. What General Montgomery didn’t realize was that James had already made the decision to not only disobey his command, but to commit what would likely be considered treason by the military leader. He wasn’t going to bring the governor back to him.

“Lieutenant Carpenter,” James barked once the engine had wound down, turning to face the pilot.

“Yes, sir?” the young officer replied hesitantly. Lucas was right that James didn’t address the man very often. He wasn’t sure why, except that the lieutenant hadn’t been a part of their team prior to the flashpoint, so he didn’t automatically include him in their conversations. However, Jeff had been through some hairy situations and never let them down. James was counting on their brief but intense history to sway the guy’s loyalty.

“You’ve familiarized yourself with the secondary EXFIL?”

“Sure, Sarge,” Carpenter replied without any hesitation. “Plenty of room in the back field, although I hope we don’t have to use it. We’d all pretty much be sitting ducks.”

James pulled his headset down around his neck and then rubbed at his jaw. “Change of plans. That’s now our primary INFIL.”

The lieutenant blinked a couple of times before glancing over at Lucas and the other guys seated around the cabin. “I don’t understand. I thought our orders were to—”

“Your orders now are to drop us off in that field at dusk, Lieutenant. Will that be a problem for you?” James continued to stare at the other man, his steely gaze unwavering. He knew he was intimidating and he normally didn’t go out of his way to take advantage of it, but their current situation called for extreme measures.

Lieutenant Carpenter balked, his color notably lightening a few shades. “No, uh…sir, it’s just that—well, you’re all likely to meet some heavy resistance if we announce ourselves like that.”

“Does the loudspeaker on this bird work?” James asked.

Carpenter nodded and then glanced again at Lucas.

“Don’t sweat it, man,” Lucas reassured him. “We’re gonna sweet-talk our way inside. Sarge has a way with words, you know?”

The lieutenant didn’t look comforted as he turned back to James. “May I ask why we’re choosing such an exposed entry, sir?”

“The mission parameters have changed,” James said without looking at the rest of the men on his team. He’d already briefed the other three before leaving. He decided to tell them everything, and let them decide on their own if they wanted to be involved or pull out. All five men were seated behind James, and he believed the pilot would agree to his orders since the rest of the 1st Recon Unit were standing in solidarity. At least, he hoped so, or else they were pretty much screwed.

“We need you to fly this bird so we can make sure the asset is safe,” Jay added, leaning forward. “Our goal here hasn’t changed, except that we’re trying to do it without any casualties.”

James had debated for a few hours whether to stick to the original mission plan or deviate from it. In the end, it came down to proving to the governor that they were there to help her. Killing off her security, staff, and possibly friends or family wouldn’t be a good way to start the relationship. They’d been given access codes to the house alarm system that had been jury-rigged, but while that might get them in the house undetected, there wouldn’t be any way around leaving a mess in their wake once inside.

Instead, James was going with a direct approach. Alicia Jenson was a seasoned US governor. A military helicopter coming in nice and slow in to her backyard, announcing its peaceful intentions without any fireworks might just work. At least, James was banking on it. It might be the only way to meet with her and get an opportunity to convince her she was in danger. Any further plans wouldn’t work unless they had her cooperation and that couldn’t happen if she was a hostage.

According to Lucas, Lieutenant Carpenter was a sharp guy and James could tell the man was putting some of the pieces together. After all, he was the reason they knew about the admiral. Nodding, the pilot shifted in his seat and slapped at a few switches on his control panel. “I’m on board, Sarge. We’ll need to lift off in a few minutes and I’ll bring her in low and hot until the final couple of klicks. The control for the external speaker is over there,” he added, pointing to where the handset was clipped. “She’s a bit touchy so be sure to press that button down nice and tight.”

Less than half an hour later, the sun was slipping below the horizon to their backs as they hovered over the expansive property of the Jenson estate. Idaho was one of the few states that didn’t have a governor’s mansion and James considered it a great piece of luck. Otherwise, instead of being high in the hills on the outskirts of town, they’d have to penetrate deep into the large city of Boise.

Sweat trickled down James’s neck as he held the handset to his mouth. He was normally extremely confident when executing missions, and he didn’t like the feeling of unease pressing against his chest. “This is Master Sergeant James Campbell of the US Marines 1st Force Reconnaissance. We are here on a peaceful diplomatic mission and request to meet with Governor Jenson.”

James leaned his head in Jay’s direction, which was enough to elicit the information he wanted. “I’ve got five tangos in view, Sarge. All hot.”

“None of ’em are firing yet, so there is that,” Lucas added from his perch near the open door in the cabin. The white-knuckle grip on his M4 Carbine was the only evidence of his nerves.

“I’ve got movement!” Corporal Flores shouted. He was staring through his night-vision goggles and dropped to his stomach to get a more solid view with less movement.

“One more tango at the back door,” Jay confirmed. “And…your charming personality must have done the job, Sarge. They’ve lowered their weapons to a ready position.”

“Bring us in,” James said stoically. There was a flurry of movement behind him as his men fell into position. He knew he didn’t need to look to make sure they were in the proper formation.

As the helo touched down, he was the first to step off, and the first to reach who he was assuming was the head of the governor’s security. He was a tall, middle-aged man in a black suit without any insignia and he didn’t look happy.

“Nathan Hawk,” the man said, extending a hand.

James was acutely aware of the five other men in view, all armed with automatic rifles. It was difficult to tell in the dark, but their uniforms looked like National Guard. That was good. “Sergeant Campbell,” he replied, taking Nathan’s hand in a solid grip.

“This is highly unusual,” Nathan admonished, dropping James hand. “So I’m sure you can understand why Governor Jenson isn’t all that eager to grant you an audience.”

“I understand,” James said, his words sharp. “I’ll be blunt. We were sent here to kill you and take the governor by force. Instead, we’d like to help protect her.”

Nathan Hawk took a step back and carefully studied each of the four soldiers, then the helicopter, where the other two were perched in the doorway. James suspected the guy was ex-military, so he’d know what the 1st Force Recon team was. He’d also know that meant the five men he had out in the yard wouldn’t be enough, and if he wanted to avoid a bloodbath, Hawk’s only option was to trust him.

“Come this way,” Hawk finally said as he turned around abruptly and waved a hand.

James motioned with two fingers, prompting Jay and Lucas to fall in behind him, while Corporal Flores remained at the edge of the lawn.

While the house wouldn’t necessarily qualify as a mansion, it was certainly impressive. The three floors of living space had to add up to at least five thousand square feet, and it took a couple minutes before they reached a large, inner den on the top floor.

Seated on a couch in front of a roaring fire was a petite woman dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. She held what looked like a glass of whiskey and had a perturbed look on her older, yet attractive face. “I assume you have a compelling story to tell me.”

James stopped just past the threshold of the room, and with a small nod of his head left Lucas at the door, while Jay followed him inside. “I wish you were wrong,” he said in response, which elicited a smile from the governor.

“My God, you’re a large man,” she said in amazement. “And you don’t look like regular military.”

“No, Governor Jenson. I’m Master Sergeant Campbell, and I run a special ops team in the Marines called the—”

“1st Force Reconnaissance,” the governor finished for him. “I was a military brat,” she explained, lifting her glass. “I recognize your patch. Now, let’s skip the rest of the pleasantries, shall we? First of all, I’m a senator now. I made that official a couple of days ago, but I imagine General Montgomery hasn’t gone out of his way to spread the announcement.”

So the plan was already in motion, James realized. Lucas had been right and it only confirmed he’d made the right decision to abort the original mission. “First of all, you have a mole on your staff,” he said without any more preamble. Stepping forward, he removed a folded sheet of paper from a front pocket on his vest and handed it to her without further comment.

It took the senator all of ten seconds to figure out what the numbers were and what it meant. “Nathan,” she snapped. He rushed to look at it for himself, and his face clouded.

“I updated these codes myself four days ago,” he insisted.

James idly wondered how they’d managed to get a working system set up. Based on all of the lights burning, they obviously had at least one good generator operating. It was impressive, but he didn’t have time to ask questions about it. They needed to get moving.

“General Montgomery has targeted you,” James said. That got her attention and she set her glass down on a table abruptly, spilling some of the liquid. “I have reason to believe that Vice Admiral Baker was already assassinated. You’re a threat to him, Senator.”

“You were sent here to kill me?” she gasped.

“Not directly,” he explained. “Our mission was to bring you back, based on your name being on the Survivor’s List.”

“The Survivor’s List?” the senator snorted. “I thought that was a myth.”

“It’s not,” James said without any humor. “I don’t know if you’re really on it or if it was just an excuse, but for whatever reason, the general wants you alive. We were sent here to get you…at any cost.”

Senator Jenson stood abruptly, her nostrils flaring. “It’s because he knows I have too many followers. If he kills me outright, it will incite others to take up my cause. But this? Proclaiming me to be some sort of asset and taking me into false protective custody…” Her words trailed off as she began to pace the room, trying to put it together. “I’m sure he’s got a plan to coerce me somehow.”

“Where’s your family?” James asked, glancing at Hawk. He wasn’t sure of the man but the senator obviously trusted him.

“Already hidden,” she said quickly, and then paused. “You don’t think…”

“Come with us.” They were out of time and James didn’t have any other choice than being direct. “We’ll protect you and eventually get you and your family to a safe place, if possible.”

“Why?” the senator asked. Although clearly terrified, she still stood straight and held her chin high. “Why go against orders and risk everything for something you don’t even understand?”

“Because this is personal for me.” James took another step closer so the senator would be sure to see his face and hopefully be convinced he was telling her the truth. “My father is on the list. Somehow, Montgomery seemed to know that.  Or he at least suspected it, and I believe that was why he chose my recon team to retrieve it, when he learned we were close by after the gamma ray hit. The general thought he could use my father as a way to manipulate me and guarantee my allegiance.”

Senator Jenson stared at him for a moment before a small smile played at her lips. “Well, that seems to have backfired.”

“I’m a soldier, Senator. But my loyalty is to the government, not any one man.”

“If Montgomery’s got a spy here, then we’ll need to make it look like you were taken by force,” Hawk said, surprising James.

“It might buy us a day or two before he starts actively looking for us,” James offered.

Senator Alicia Jenson put both hands on top of her head, entwining her fingers in her thick black hair she’d piled up in a messy bun. She looked younger than her years, even vulnerable for a brief moment, until she took an audible breath and gathered herself. “Okay. Give me five minutes,” she said as she headed for a door at the back of the room.

Ten minutes later, the four of them made their way silently back the way they’d come. As they approached the doors at the rear of the house, James easily picked the small woman up and she pretended to struggle vainly against his thick arms, a muffled scream working its way around his hand that was clamped gently over her mouth. Jay held his Glock to the back of Nathan Hawk’s head and the man walked stiffly outside with his hands out in front of him. Lucas brought up the rear, holding his rifle at the ready on all of them.

“Drop your weapons!” Nathan shouted to the men surrounding the helicopter. “Do it, or they’ll kill the senator!”

There was one long, very tense moment as the five National Guard soldiers debated the order given to them by a civilian security guard. “Please do what they want!” the senator shouted as James conveniently moved his hand to the side.

Flores was joined on the grass by Corporal Lance and Sergeant Lee, and the additional firepower was enough to convince the guardsmen to listen to the senator. Not waiting for a better opportunity, James led the way, running across the open space while cradling the woman he’d promised to protect in his arms. Just as he reached the open door of the helo and set her inside, shots rang out.

Spinning around, James watched as Nathan went down, throwing Jay off balance and leaving them both vulnerable. His M4 was in his hands before James even completed the thought to reach for the rifle, and he directed a short burst of rounds towards their assailant. His aim was true and the uniformed man jerked several times before crumpling to the ground.

Lucas and Flores were already dragging the other two men the rest of the way and they were all in the helo by the time the original guardsmen had reacted and retrieved their weapons. Some random shots hit harmlessly off the underside of the bird, but the sharp retorts were enough to point out how close they’d come to complete failure.

“I’m okay,” Hawk was shouting to the senator, who was urgently trying to get a good look at the bullet wound in the man’s lower leg.

Flores made quick work of Nathan’s pants and then used their field kit to clean the oozing hole. “He’s right,” he said after only a couple of minutes. “Went through and through. I doubt it impacted the bone. We’ll get him patched up and as good as new.”

“Who was that?” James demanded, ignoring the injury.

“He was assigned earlier this week by the Army,” the senator explained.

“He was supposed to be out at the front gate,” Hawk added. “I already suspected he was the mole, and this pretty much confirms it. He was either trying to prevent you from taking me with the governor, so she’d be alone, or else he saw through our charade.”

“Doesn’t really matter,” Jay said. “He won’t be talking to anyone.”

“Where are we going?” Senator Jenson asked. Her hands were covered in blood and she looked more like a wild pioneer fresh from battle than a US Senator.

James glanced first at each of his men, before settling on the senator’s scared but hardened features. “We were sent to get you because you’re a threat,” he said evenly. “For whatever reason, General Montgomery believes my father is a threat, too. It’s time to find out why.”

Chapter 20

ETHAN

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

Ethan leaned against the long wooden handle of the sickle and stared out over the field of billowing hay. The sun was about to set and was casting one of its incredibly colorful sunsets throughout the valley spread below them. It had been a warm day and the birds were out late, taking advantage of the early evening insects hovering over the tall grasses. While it was a mesmerizing view, and one Ethan would have been in awe of at any other time in his life, it instead caused a heavy sense of foreboding.

The colors of the sunset were wrong, the grass was too brown, and the birds’ flight patterns still often erratic. Although the sky was several shades away from night, the northern lights were already active, throwing additional shadows and hues into the increasingly unearthly landscape.

“It doesn’t seem right that it should look so beautiful,” Chloe said, moving up next to him.

He glanced over at her and marveled again at how someone so small could contain so much energy and strength. She’d kept up with him the whole day, and while she might not be able to swing a sickle in as wide a span, she certainly held her own. Ethan knew she probably understood why the scene bothered him, and she’d pretty much nailed it. “Yeah,” he agreed. “The destruction of the Earth should be…less colorful.”

Chloe snorted and then punched him in the arm.

“Ouch!” he quipped, rubbing at his shoulder only half-jokingly.

“Breaktime’s over, Romeo. Sam just got here so he’s going to help Crissy and Sandy haul the last of the bales over to the barn.” Chloe raised the sickle over her head and made a ridiculous calling noise like a Jawa creature from Star Wars.

Laughing, Ethan joined her, and together they sprinted back to the last row they’d started cutting, sounding like two lunatics who had lost their minds.

Fifteen minutes later, his dad rode up on Lilly and called out a loud greeting to prevent any accidental hacking. Ethan and Chloe were long past their playfulness and back into a steady cadence of swinging and sweating to an internal rhythm. Sucking in a breath of dusty air, Ethan wiped at his forehead as he looked up at his dad.

“It’s long past quitting time,” Tom said, his face in shadows. The last of the sun’s rays were barely reaching up from behind the mountains to the west and they were probably getting more illumination from the northern lights. “You must be starving.”

“Famished,” Chloe answered. Stretching her back, she squinted over to where Bishop was still tying up another bundle of hay. “You guys about done?”

Tom tipped his hat back and shifted in the saddle, the leather creaking under his weight. “We’re calling that the last bale, so why don’t you head back to the house and get the fire going? Throw some of those fish on to cook that you caught this morning, Ethan. Crissy said there was a good batch of eggs today so we can cook up some omelets, too.”

“We’ll wait for Sam to cook the omelets,” Ethan said. “He’s the only one who can make ’em good, except for Grandma.”

“Crissy and your grandma are in the barn using the horses to arrange the bales,” Tom explained. “It’s like a giant jigsaw puzzle.”

“Perfect,” Chloe laughed. “Crissy loves puzzles. Come on,” she said, grabbing at Ethan’s arm and already pulling him down the hill.

“Tell Sam to hurry up,” Ethan called to his dad as they marched away. The older man had been working at the spring with Danny for most of the day. His arrival probably meant that they’d all finished the water shelter, which was a good thing. Ethan was eager to talk with him about it, and to find out how the council meeting that morning went. All he got out of his dad before he started working was the shocking news that he was now the interim mayor of Mercy. Which was cool and everything, but he also wanted to know what they’d said about the cave and indoor farming.

The hay field sat on a hill to the southeast and wasn’t too far from the house. The barn was in the opposite direction, so Ethan and Chloe opted to carry the tools back with them to the farmhouse, rather than go the extra distance. Resting the sickle in the crook of his arm as they walked, Ethan gingerly removed his work gloves, exposing several blisters.

Chloe glanced over and wrinkled her nose. “I’m afraid to take mine off without being close to some cold water and a bottle of numbing Bactine. I’m pretty sure I’ve got blisters on top of blisters.”

“With Dad and Bishop taking off tomorrow morning, it’s only going to get harder,” Ethan said, already regretting exposing his open wounds to the air. He decided it would hurt more to pull the gloves back on, so he stuffed them into the back pocket of his dirty jeans and slung the blade over his shoulder.

“Are you worried about them?” Chloe asked. She sounded much less sarcastic than usual.

Ethan scratched at a new mosquito bite on his forehead. It was ironic that of all the things in the world, the annoying insect thrived in the wake of the radiation. He shrugged in response, but then realized Chloe probably couldn’t see him. It was almost dark. “I guess so. I mean, those outlaws are pretty dangerous, but I don’t think they stand much of a chance against us. Sheriff Waters worked as a cop in a big city for a long time, and some of the guys who volunteered to go are veterans and good at handling guns. I don’t know much about Bishop, but my dad is…well, he’s my dad. He can be kinda scary when he’s mad.”

“So can Bishop,” Chloe said quietly.

Ethan looked sideways at her, unsure by what she meant. “How so?”

She was using her sickle like a walking stick, and Ethan was distracted by how stunning Chloe looked in the gathering darkness. There was just enough purple left in her short, dark hair to make it stand out in the fading light, and there was something about the way she held herself; a confidence he was drawn to. He felt stronger when he was around her.

“You heard about how that kid Jason and his goons tried to attack me and your grandma up at the lake?” she asked, her eyes widening at the memory and flashing in the light cast on them now from overhead.

Ethan tried to ignore the intensity of the northern lights and instead focused on Chloe. “Yeah, I heard. Grandma said Bishop disarmed one of the guys, so I assume he can hold his own in a fight.”

Shaking her head, Chloe’s brows pinched together in a pained expression. “Yeah, something like that.”

“I guess that means he’ll be someone good to have there tomorrow,” Ethan offered, not sure what else to say. “Dad said Danny’s going to come stay with us while he’s gone.”

“Good. We can use all the help we can get if we ever want to finish cutting all of that hay,” Chloe sighed. “I sure hope those cows appreciate it.”

“We’ll appreciate it when we’re still eating beef next year,” Ethan laughed, then stopped when he realized what he said. “I mean, you’ll probably be gone by then. You know, with your parents back in Washington.”

Chloe’s steps faltered slightly and Ethan rolled his eyes at himself, thankful it was dark enough that she couldn’t see him. “Caleb will find them,” he offered lamely.

“He’s still trying,” Chloe said after a brief hesitation. “I don’t know when it’ll be, but someday I’ll find out where they are, and if they’re still alive.”

“They are,” Ethan insisted, and reached out in the dark to find her hand. He was relieved when instead of pulling away, she grasped his back, even though it made his blisters burn.

“When are you going to take me to see Henry’s Hollow?” Chloe said, lightening the tone. She swung his hand back and forth like they were Hansel and Gretel on their way back to their house. It was hard not to play along.

“I guess I do owe you,” Ethan said, lengthening his stride to keep up with her short, quick steps. “If we get enough done in the field tomorrow, maybe the next day we can take an extra-long lunch break and take a ride over there. I want to check out the new shelter anyway.”

“It’s a date,” Chloe said, and squeezed his hand a little tighter. After a moment, she slowed and pulled his arm back, forcing him to stop. He turned expectantly to her, and was surprised when he saw how serious her expression was. “I’m glad you’re not going tomorrow.” Moving the sickle to her other side, Chloe stepped in closer to him so he could see her face. “I’d be super worried about you.”

Ethan smiled. For the first time in what was only weeks but felt like a lifetime, he didn’t have a heavy weight pushing him into the ground. Relief flooded him, prompted by the knowledge that he would be okay. With the love of his family and new friends, he would have the strength to combat the oppressing anxiety he’d been suffering. He knew he still had the capacity to feel alive and experience something that seemed impossible just days before. Joy.

Chapter 21

TOM

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

Tom was resisting the urge to make some coffee, especially since it meant stoking the fire back up in the kitchen. It was already too hot inside the house. As he approached the kitchen while continuing the internal debate with himself, he saw that there was already a candle burning, and his mom was sitting at the counter, mug in hand.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, sliding onto the stool next to her. Based on the lack of enticing aroma, he guessed she was drinking tea.

“I thought I’d sleep better once you were back,” Sandy said softly, swirling the contents of the half-empty cup. “I just can’t seem to get my mind to shut off once I’ve closed my eyes. And it’s so damn dark.”

Tom put an arm around his mother’s shoulders and noticed for the first time how much weight she’d lost. She was never what he’d call overweight, but rather sturdy. He couldn’t ever remember feeling her bones poke through her robe the way they were now. It made Tom want to protect her even more, and he lightened his grip, afraid he was going to hurt her. “Things will get better,” he said reassuringly. He wanted to promise her and opened his mouth to say the words, but he’d seen too much. Making a promise his mom knew Tom couldn’t keep wouldn’t help, and it wouldn’t make the darkness go away or the power come on.

Standing, Sandy slid out from under her son’s arm and began going through the motions of making him a cup of tea. “You know, your father almost ran for mayor once, a few years before he got sick.”

Tom didn’t try to hide his surprise. “Dad? Run for office? I never took him for much of a politician. I don’t know how many times, or different variations, I heard of the story when he got in the fight with one of the councilmen during an open meeting in city hall.”

Sandy scoffed as she poured the tea. “That was a long time ago, and Ed had it comin’. He would have won had he run. Only reason he didn’t was because Ned decided at the last minute to serve for one more term, so he pulled his hat out of the race.”

Tom took the steaming cup from his mom and smiled in disbelief. “Huh, I guess maybe Patty isn’t totally crazy after all.”

“Oh, Patty is crazy, all right,” Sandy laughed. Finishing the last sip in her cup, she took it to the sink and rinsed it out with the remaining hot water from the kettle before turning back to Tom. “Except she was right about you. You’re going to make a wonderful mayor, Thomas. I encouraged your dad to run again when Ned retired, but he was already sick by then. That was when you were living in Helena.”

“I’m sorry,” Tom said automatically.

“No,” Sandy urged, moving back to him and clasping both of his hands. “Don’t ever be sorry for going out into the world and finding yourself and living your own life. We all have to at some point unless we want to live with resentment and wondering what might have been. I’m just so happy you came home to Mercy. Not once, but twice now. When we’ve needed you most, you’re here, and now the town needs you, too.”

Standing, Tom pulled his mom in for a familiar, comforting embrace. “I’ll come back again, Mom.” he added, feeling confident enough to make that particular oath.

Nodding, Sandy pulled back and tried to avert her watery eyes. “You should get to bed now. You and Bishop have a long ride ahead of you tomorrow.”

Tom grinned at his mom, knowing better than to argue with her. “Yes, Mom. Just as soon as I finish going over a few things with Bishop. Goodnight,” he said as she walked down the hall, grateful to be back at Miller Ranch.

A few minutes later, he knocked on the bunkhouse door when he saw there was still some light spilling out through the curtained window. Sam answered it fast enough to indicate he hadn’t been in bed, and Tom nearly laughed when he saw the older man in his boxers. He was holding a notebook covered in writing, and his thick head of hair stuck up haphazardly in several directions. He looked like a crazed professor.

“Tom!” Sam said with some surprise. “Thought you were Bishop and was wondering why in the world he’d be knocking.”

“What are you working on?” Tom asked, unable to make much sense of the scribbled words on the paper.

“Oh! Just doing some more research into the different indoor growth methods, including hydroponics and terracing. It’s pretty fascinating stuff and I think there’s much more potential than we realize. The hardest part might be coming up with enough healthy seeds.”

Tom blinked at him a couple of times. “Okay…”

“Well Tom, you are Mayor Miller now, so perhaps that’s something you could look into, or get on a list somewhere,” Sam said, unable to contain his laughter at Tom’s expression.

Tom rolled his eyes at the cheap joke. “Sure, Sam. As soon as you fill out a form to make an official request.”

“Seriously, though,” Sam said quickly, tossing the notebook onto one of the beds behind him. “I think it’s great Patty named you mayor. There’s no doubt you’re the right person for the job. I’m just sorry I’m not going with you guys in the morning. Doesn’t feel right to stay behind.”

Tom started to reach out to pat Sam’s arm to reassure him, and hesitated when he realized the other man was still dressed in only his underwear. “We’ll definitely miss you,” he said, opting to rest his hand on the doorframe and lean against it. “Better to stay here, though, than to suffer the wrath of Dr. Olsen. Neither one of us would ever hear the end of it, from both her and Danny.”

“I’m sure to catch some grief from Danny tomorrow when she sees me in the dusty hay field,” Sam complained. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to convince her that my lungs are healed.”

Tom scratched at his head and then peeked past Sam to confirm the room was empty. “As much as I like talking to you when you’re half-naked, I was looking for Bishop. Know where he is?”

Sam gestured to the building behind them. “I think that man hardly sleeps. He’s in there working on the wagon. See you in the morning,” he added as Tom gave a small wave and headed for the barn.

The interior was dimly lit by only one oil lamp hanging on a center peg, though it was enough for Tom to see that the main area of the barn was empty. The wagon wheel Bishop was working on was propped on a couple of sawhorses and there were tools on the ground near it, but no sign of the engineer.

Tom moved to the center of the barn and was about to call out for him when something made him hesitate. A sound that was off, maybe, or just a sense that he wasn’t alone with the horses. Standing there, Tom held his breath and tilted his head, listening.

There. The creaking of a board above him. Pivoting, Tom studied the underside of the floor that made up the loft area of the old barn. The forward section was still used for storing excess hay, and the back half was closed off. It used to serve as the original bunkhouse until Tom built the new, larger one. For the last few years the useless space housed boxes of old tax forms and other unwanted items.

As he moved to the base of the ladder, Tom heard another, unmistakable sound of someone moving around in the room. Frowning, he began to quietly climb the ladder. Bishop exploring the barn in itself wasn’t that odd. It was because he was doing it in the dead of the night that Tom got curious. And something else…instinct, told him it was because he was doing something he didn’t want anyone to know about. For that reason, Tom had every intention of seeing what it was, unannounced if possible.

The original wooden ladder had broken on him the last time he carried a box up it, and nearly caused Tom to take a nasty spill. That meant the one there now was new enough that it made hardly any noise as he made his way to the top. Once there, Tom hoisted himself through the opening in the floor and crouched, listening. There was an odd tapping noise that he hadn’t heard from below and a light spilled across the floor through the open door.

Standing, it took Tom four quick, long strides to cross the space and enter the room. He took the scene in rapidly and reacted without even thinking. A lantern was on the floor, while Bishop sat at an old desk with a headset on and what looked like a large ham radio in front of him. He’d been drumming out a message, to whom Tom couldn’t guess, and his hand was poised with a pencil over a notebook.

As Bishop stood and turned to face him, his face a mix of shock and anger, Tom was already on him. Grabbing the other man by the front of his shirt, Tom hauled him the rest of the way to his feet and slammed him up against the nearest wall. “What is this?” he demanded, shaking Bishop once for emphasis.

“What’s the matter with you?” Bishop retorted, not making any attempt to push back. “Caleb’s been teaching me how to use the radio. I’m just practicing.”

Tom’s fury wavered, and he wondered if maybe the current situation was a prime example of why he wasn’t mayor material. Was it possible he jumped to the wrong conclusion? Then, he caught the older man’s eyes flitting to the desk and back to Tom again. Turning his head, Tom saw that Bishop had been in the middle of writing something when he’d interrupted. There were several sheets of paper, but the top one was all that mattered to him. In bold letters was a word he recognized, followed by a confusing set of statements:

MERCY. Will add to list. Unknown survival at this point. Still looking. Information sent to government agencies. Military status questionable. Be careful.

Tom’s eyes narrowed as he re-read the words, taking into consideration that these were the responses back to Bishop that he had written down. The implication became vividly clear and he slammed his fist on the desk, scattering the rest of the papers onto the floor.

“Tom,” Bishop said cautiously, holding a hand out. “It’s not what you think.”

Tom knew when he was being lied to. He always had. It was a knack he’d picked up as a teen and it had served him well in life. He’d been trying to deny the feeling about Bishop since they’d first met. Tom wanted to like the guy. He wanted to trust him, because his mom did, but there was something about him that didn’t ring true. Bishop was lying and now Tom knew it had something to do with the military. He was putting Mercy at risk.

Scowling, he reached for Bishop again with the intent of making sure he left the farm, physically if he had to. Tom was a couple of inches taller than the other man and while Bishop was obviously tough, he also had close to twenty years on Tom so he shouldn’t be much of a physical threat.

To Tom’s shock, he never completed the motion. Bishop moved with lightning speed, grabbing Tom’s hand and twisting it around and then up behind his back, forcing Tom to move with him or else risk breaking his arm. Bishop slammed into his back and used the combined force of their momentum to carry them both to the floor. Before Tom could offer any resistance, Bishop was on him, controlling his other arm with a knee across his shoulders and pressing his face into the rough boards of the floor.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Bishop growled, close to Tom’s ear. “So stop acting like a hotheaded fool.”

Stunned, Tom gulped in a breath of dusty air and accepted the fact he’d been easily beaten by a fifty-something pencil pusher from Butte, Montana. Coughing once, Tom remained still, but he didn’t relax and kept the tension against both Bishop’s grip and the knee at his neck. “Who are you?” he demanded.

Bishop snorted once and then the weight disappeared from Tom’s back. “If I let you up, can we act like men and have a conversation?”

Tom nodded once, his nose bent at a painful angle, and then slowly pushed himself into a seated position when Bishop released his arm. It was the same shoulder that had been shot, and Tom rolled it slowly to stop the spasm he was suffering.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Bishop offered. “But you didn’t give me much choice.”

Irritated by what Tom took as arrogance, he grunted as he forced himself to his feet so he could face the other man. “You act like you have rights here. This is my home and my town, and you’re the one threatening it!” he shouted, pointing a finger at Bishop’s chest. “You don’t get any choices, Bishop. You either explain to me what the hell is going on, or you get out!”

Bishop stared at him silently and Tom braced himself to kiss the floor again. He might be older and smaller, but the man knew how to fight.

“I respect you,” Bishop said evenly. “And I care about your mother—”

“You leave my mom out of this!” Tom’s temper flared and he almost forgot about the splinters in his face.

Holding a hand up defensively, Bishop then motioned for Tom to settle down. “I don’t know what you think I’m doing up here, but if you look at the other pages on the ground, it might help shed some light.”

Tom begrudgingly bent over and snagged two sheets that were by his feet. They were full of the same tight script as the other one and had choppy, unfinished sentences:

Washington communication sketchy. Focusing on eastern region where Chloe is from. Southern California no contact yet. Will keep trying. Contact with Honolulu. Waiting on names.

Tom frowned and looked up at Bishop, who was watching him closely. “I have a good friend who happens to be in charge of the Washington State Guard,” Bishop explained. “I finally made contact with him a couple of days ago and he’s helping me try to find the kid’s parents. And hopefully Ethan’s mom.”

“Whose radio is this?” Tom asked, unsatisfied.

Pushing away from the wall, Bishop retrieved the headset from the floor and went to examine the radio to make sure it was still working. “This was Caleb’s main radio. It got fried the day of the gamma ray. Well, it was mainly the battery that got fried and only some of the electrical circuits. I offered to try and fix it for him.”

“He showed me his other radio,” Tom said, eyes narrowing. “He specifically said it was the only working radio in Mercy, and that the other nearest one he knew of was at the Pony Express station near Helena.”

Bishop dropped the headphones on the desk and turned abruptly to face Tom. He looked annoyed, but also resigned. “That’s because I didn’t tell him I got it working. I knew how everyone would react to my wanting to contact the state guard.” He rushed to explain when Tom bristled. “And you’re right, Tom. I haven’t been upfront with everyone regarding my background. I was in the military and I still have some contacts. I’ve been using them to try and get us some answers. Some useful information. I know you don’t have much of a reason to trust me, but I’m asking you…as a friend, and as a friend of your mom’s, to trust me. I’ve done nothing but help since I got here and that’s all I want to continue doing.”

In spite of how badly Tom wanted to punch the other man in the face, the same intuition that helped him ferret out liars urged him to accept Bishop’s plea. He believed him, and although Tom knew there was still a side to him that was in the shadows, Bishop was the kind of man he needed by his side when they went up against the desperados. And if he was telling the truth about the radio, then he might also need his help as the mayor.

“Okay,” Tom said with some reluctance. Handing the papers out to Bishop, he saw that there were several more like it scattered on the desk. “Have you managed to get any of those answers?”

“I’m afraid so,” Bishop said with a sigh. “I was going to tell you about this tomorrow, anyway. I found out something you need to know. That everyone needs to know.”

Tom braced himself for more bad news and wondered if there would ever come a time again when things weren’t so muddied. When right was right and wrong was wrong. When the sky was dark at night and the rain didn’t kill anything.

“Jesper Duke’s ranch is now a command center for the US military.”

Tom closed his eyes and took a slow breath before opening them again. “Dillinger?”

Bishop shrugged. Tom had told him about the corporal, so he knew who he was referring to. “I didn’t get many details, except it’s clear they aren’t stopping there. I’m afraid the fake quarantine isn’t going to work for much longer, Tom. Sooner or later, there are going to be soldiers coming up the road.”

Tom hoped that Bishop was telling him the truth about being on their side, because they were going to need all the help they could get. “Do we have any options?”

Bishop grinned, clearly relieved that Tom asked. “There are always options.”

Chapter 22

General Montgomery

Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Colorado

General Montgomery stood facing the giant map on his office wall, hands clasped behind his back. He’d spent so many hours staring at it that when the colors changed, lines shifted, and the landscape morphed into something altogether new, it was like watching an evolving season. It was changing again, and the red yarn strung along the West Coast was physically painful to look at.

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

He twisted his shoulders a few inches so he could acknowledge Walsh, who was standing just inside the doorway to his office. “The continent is literally being molded into something new,” Montgomery said with some reverence. “A third of the Oregon coast erased miles inland, the San Juan Islands in Washington submerged, and…tens of thousands dead in California. We won’t even know the extent of the latest damage there until we reestablish communication after the last storm.”

“There’s growing concern that the remaining tankers that were still in port have also been lost.”

Montgomery winced. It was some of the largest stores of crude oil still accessible on the continent. It would be some time, of course, before anything could have been done with it, but at least they would have had the option. He hadn’t even considered the impact of the hurricanes on the refineries. “Which ones?” he asked. “Washington or California?”

Walsh moved restlessly and cleared his throat. “All of them, sir.”

General Montgomery turned back to his map. Although it was changing, it was still familiar enough to offer him a sense of control. If they could continue the information-gathering so he at least understood what was happening, he would be able to maintain order. Information was power and there was never a time when that was truer. “Why don’t we have more updates?” he demanded, walking over to his desk where the latest reports were stacked. Picking up the top sheet, he waved it at Walsh like it was evidence of his inadequacies. “It’s been nearly forty-eight hours since the last hurricane hit.”

“Hurricane force winds receded only ten hours ago, sir, and the atmospheric interference increased to the point where communication was almost impossible all along the coast,” Walsh explained. “We’ve been relaying messages successfully with eastern Washington, but they’ve only managed to get limited data themselves.”

Montgomery slammed the paper back down on the desk. It was too early in the morning to argue and he hadn’t even had his first cup of coffee. He knew he didn’t need to lecture Walsh, but there was a long laundry list of bad news greeting him that morning and someone needed to answer for at least some of it. “Tell me about 1st Recon,” he demanded. Rubbing at his temple, the general picked up the mug of coffee that had already gone cold and sat down at his desk.

“We’ve had no further contact since they went dark last night,” Walsh said, hesitating.

“Out with it, Colonel. I’m not in the mood to play twenty questions with you today.”

“Alicia Jenson is a US governor. Why not simply set up a meeting with her?”

Montgomery stared at Walsh until the other man looked away. “I understand she now considers herself a senator. And are you going to make me explain the meaning of standing orders, Colonel? Is the continued destruction of our planet not enough evidence that we need to do whatever is necessary to ensure the survival of the people of the United States?”

Walsh cleared his throat again, and when he looked back up to meet Montgomery’s eyes there was a hardness the general hadn’t seen before. “I think, sir, that we are living in unusual times. It might be to everyone’s benefit to try and work alongside the civilian government, rather than against them. Either that, or be bold enough to order her arrest instead of whatever game is being played.”

Montgomery set his cup down and slowly pushed it off to the side before placing his hands on the desk. “You’re sounding awfully mutinous this morning, Kelly.”

Walsh swallowed hard at the use of his first name, though he didn’t look away. “You’ve got it wrong, General. I’m doing my best to prevent insurrection, but you’re making my job very hard lately. I just got word before coming here that one of the National Guardsmen at the gov—I mean, senator’s estate was killed last night. There were eyewitness accounts of the recon unit and they’re calling this a military operation. The state of Idaho is demanding answers immediately.”

Montgomery’s expression didn’t change. He knew the mission could go one of several ways and was ready for them all. Ideally, it would have been a clean grab and the situation could have been more easily manipulated to their benefit. As it was, it would require more sacrifice, and that was still acceptable to him. “Issue a statement denouncing the 1st Force Reconnaissance team. Explain that they were ordered to disband after we investigated the botched mission in New Mexico. They’ve gone rogue and are now acting on their own accord.”

Walsh’s face reddened. “So, they’re your scapegoat?”

“They are whatever we need them to be!” Montgomery barked as he jumped to his feet, causing Walsh to recoil. “It is imperative that we maintain authority or everything that we’ve managed to build will be lost. The rest of the people will be lost, Colonel, and that cannot…it will not happen. With Vice Admiral Baker and Senator Jenson out of the equation, their rebellion is effectively shut down and we can get back to rebuilding this country.”

Walsh stood stiffly; his hands clamped into fists at his sides. Montgomery remained on his feet and watched his longtime friend carefully. He’d rather not detain him for treason, and the next minute would likely dictate whether the other man lived or died. It would be unfortunate, although better men had been sacrificed throughout history for the greater good.

A small sigh escaped the colonel’s lips, and it reminded Montgomery of the last breath often heard before the soul left the body at the moment of death. “What’s our next step then, sir?”

Relieved for the moment, but still wary of the colonel’s loyalty, the general sat back down and resumed drinking his cold coffee as if the standoff hadn’t happened. “Tell me about Dr. Watson’s latest demands.”

Walsh blinked once, and then twice, looking somewhat dazed. His brows furrowed and then relaxed as he realized they were moving on with business as usual. “Um, yes. She’s still adamant that her granddaughter be allowed topside for more than an hour a day to get what she calls sunshine and fresh air.”

“That’s easy enough to make happen.”

“Yes, General, I’ve already seen to it,” Walsh replied, his voice still sounding weak as he continued to gather his wits. “The other request is a little harder to accommodate, though not without merit.”

“Indoor farming.” Montgomery lifted the report which listed the details. “She claims to have been part of a team that planned for potential events that limited the ability to grow food and raise cattle. Perhaps we’ve discovered why she was on the list.”

“She’s a geneticist,” Walsh said, pointing out the obvious. “According to her, she was recently involved in a top-secret government program. Her role was to create genetically modified seeds as part of a revolutionary seed vault here in the states.”

“Comparable to Svalbard?” Montgomery asked. He didn’t know much about the Svalbard global seed vault, except that it was called a doomsday vault and, much like Cheyenne, was located deep inside a mountain. Unfortunately, that mountain was on an arctic island in Norway. One of the reasons for its location was the cold. Even if the power in the vault failed, which it would have with the gamma ray, it would remain below freezing inside. Though there were some vaults in the US, with one of the largest being right there in Colorado, they were all susceptible to the repercussions of the flashpoint. The local one at the Colorado State University was housed in a regular building. It was part of a massive fire and a total loss. Any others still accessible would be essentially useless, even if they had workable land to grow the seeds in.

“Better than Svalbard, and more than one.”

The general paused with his cup halfway to his mouth. “More than one?”

Walsh’s eyes narrowed. “You knew about this.”

“What else did she say?” he demanded. Montgomery had allowed the colonel enough rope to hang himself with, but he wasn’t about to start getting in the habit of explaining his motives to his assistant.

“She wants a team to help locate some appropriate caves and coordinate an indoor farming program.” Walsh took a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. As he approached the desk and held it out to Montgomery, he could see that it was covered in a hand-written list. “Once we’ve met her requirements, she’ll help us locate the vault.”

“She doesn’t know where it is?” Montgomery was alarmed.

“No, but she apparently knows someone who does,” Walsh dropped the list and backed away like he was feeding a snake. “She said the different aspects of the project were kept separate in order to maintain a high level of secrecy, but she was friends with someone on the vault design team.”

“Give her what she wants,” Montgomery demanded, startling Walsh with the ease with which he gave the order. “I don’t want anyone else talking to her, and isolate the team she puts together.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The communication that came in from Dillinger last night,” General Montgomery said, moving on before Walsh tried to fish for more answers. “How was it sent?”

“Apparently there was a ham radio at the Pony Express station.” Walsh scratched at his head, frowning. “Turns out they were even more organized than we thought.”

“And this station is a farm on the outskirts of Helena, correct?”

The colonel nodded. “Yes, sir. The owner was killed in the raid, but as you can see by the report, Dillinger found evidence of several other similar stations, all connecting back to Mercy, Montana.”

“This says he’ll have a team in Mercy to confirm the quarantine is a hoax within a couple of days.” Montgomery considered the importance of shutting down the supply line, the cattle, and strategic placement of another command outpost. Mercy might be just the kind of settlement they’d end up needing for the long-term. It was too bad they didn’t have the 1st Force Reconnaissance at their disposal any longer. “Contact the colonel at Malmstrom. Have them ready a team to assist Dillinger.” Malmstrom Air Force Base was about a hundred miles north of Helena, but could have troops in Mercy within a few days of receiving orders.

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

Montgomery stared evenly at Colonel Walsh for several heartbeats. Some deadly things had been put on the table and they weren’t easily swept aside. He knew his friend was looking for reassurance and he wasn’t ready to give it to him. He pushed his mug to the edge of the desk. “Get me some fresh coffee.”

Walsh struggled to keep a neutral expression as he took the cup and walked from the room without comment. When the door closed, the general rose and went back to his map. In spite of a bad start to the day, he was feeling much more optimistic.

Reaching out, Montgomery pulled the red stickpin that designated the town of Mercy. A smile that others might have mistaken for a sneer was his only outward expression as he replaced it with a green tack. “We’ll find out soon enough what other secrets you’re protecting,” he whispered to the empty room.

Chapter 23

DANNY

Main Street, Mercy, Montana

The sky over Mercy was painted with a mosaic of intense colors as the sun rose slowly above the rooftops of Main Street. Danny rode right down the middle, staring up in awe as her horse tread lightly over the cracked blacktop that was already filling in with hardy weeds. A ragged, wispy line of auburn-colored clouds reached out from the east and ended like a bullseye at a building wall of clouds to the south. Twisting in her saddle to look behind her, Danny marveled at how the color seemed to flow from the sunrise to the storm and infuse it with some sort of supernatural energy.

Trying to shake off the sense of foreboding, she settled back in the saddle and called out to Grace to keep her close by, reassuring herself that everything would work out. Danny had just left her father back at the water station on the southern end of town. He’d continue to fulfill his role as water-hauler while she helped out at the ranch for the next few days. Glancing up at the sound of a neighing horse, she was relieved to see a large group of riders still gathered in front of city hall. Danny knew they would wait until after daybreak to leave, but she was still afraid of missing them. She wanted to make sure her father’s medication was on the list of wanted items in the Pony Express riders’ saddle bags. Her other reason was to say goodbye to Tom.

A rooster crowed from somewhere up the road, and she figured it must be one of the many inhabitants of the farmer’s market. Danny had been through it once, briefly, and was amazed at how well organized it was. The bartering system was working well and she only heard one small disagreement that settled rather quickly. Her dad told her how it started with a few fruit stands and had rapidly grown to a large, covered area that spread from building to building across Main Street. It encompassed everything from small livestock, to all sorts of food items, and handmade goods like soap and toilet paper. Danny ended up trading a fish she’d caught for a couple of apples and a piece of pie. She already had plans for how she could contribute and gain from it.

Although it was early, a fair amount of people were already milling about. Danny was impressed with the tight-knit community and their willingness to work together. She had very limited knowledge of the town’s politics, but even if Patty was right to step down as mayor when she did, there was no denying what she had helped to build. As Danny drew closer to the group, she wasn’t surprised to see how many volunteers there were. Mercy was worth fighting for.

“Danny!” Tom called out when he spotted her, and she smiled at his enthusiasm. She wasn’t sure when the shift occurred and she started to care so much about how he reacted to her, but it was an emotion she hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

“I’m glad I didn’t miss you,” Danny said as he walked up. He reached out to stroke the horse’s head in greeting and she saw how the mare immediately turned to him, wanting more attention. He definitely had a way with animals. Her dad said she was normally a skittish horse.

Danny was happy to see Chloe over talking with Bishop and Sheriff Waters. They could ride back to the ranch together. “Where’s Ethan?” she asked when she didn’t see the teen anywhere.

“He and Sam stayed back with my mom at the farm to get a jump on the hay,” Tom explained. “It was so hot yesterday that I think they’re looking forward to sweating a little less this morning.”

Danny chuckled as Grace finished running around greeting everyone, and plopped herself down on Tom’s feet. “She’s going to miss you.”

Tom knelt down and gave the retriever a hug, rubbing her head at the same time. “You take care of the farm, Grace.” Grace barked once in response and then ran off again.

“I think that was a yes,” Danny laughed. “We’ll both watch over the farm, but only if you promise to come back soon.”

Tom stood back up and looked as if he was going to say something, but Caleb intervened by slapping a large hand onto Tom’s shoulder. Danny noticed he winced and wondered if the healing bullet wound was giving him any problems. “Just got a weird message from station one,” Caleb said with some concern.

“Explain ‘weird message’,” Tom replied, rolling his shoulder slightly while he spoke.

“It’s hard to explain,” the older man said, frowning. “I sent my usual morning roll call and the response was basically the same as every other day, except that it wasn’t.”

Tom raised his eyebrows questioningly at Caleb, obviously wanting more of an explanation. Bishop and Sheriff Waters had just walked up in time to catch the gist of the conversation and the sheriff didn’t look happy.

“Q-Code is essentially a type of Morse code shorthand for ham radio operators,” Caleb said. “Just like with other forms of communication, each operator tends to develop their own recognizable tendencies and patterns. You know, shortening of words, dropping certain precursors and such.” Caleb ran a hand over his head and huffed in frustration. “I can’t exactly tell you how I know, but I don’t think I’m talking to Henry anymore. I’d wager money someone else is on that radio, only they’re trying to identify themselves as him.”

Bishop looked first at the sheriff and then Tom. Danny immediately picked up on an added layer of tension as soon as Bishop joined them. She watched the silent exchange between him and Tom and knew it had to do with more than the news from Caleb. Tom’s whole demeanor changed and the way he reacted to Bishop was like the old Tom, from when they were still out on the road. Actually, both men looked rather dangerous and Danny was suddenly more nervous about their planned attack.

“So, this special Morse code,” Tom said, turning to Caleb. “What are the odds that someone randomly overrunning the station would know it?”

“That pretty much nails my main concern,” Caleb said. “I’ve been an operator for a long time, but I started out in the Army. Whoever is using this Q-Code, chances are that they’re military.”

The comment drew another pointed look from Tom to Bishop and Sheriff Waters cleared his throat. “Mayor, how do you want to handle it?”

“Why don’t you wait until Caleb can determine more?” Patty said, walking up to her husband. “I’m fully aware I’m not the mayor anymore, Tom, but I don’t like this. You don’t know what might be going on out there.”

“No,” Tom said adamantly. “We go now. We can’t waste any more time waiting for something that may or may not happen. If whoever is on the other end of the radio doesn’t want us to know who they are, they certainly aren’t going to tell us. The only way to be certain is to go there and check in on them.”

“Isn’t station one near Helena?” Danny asked, trying to remember what she’d heard about it over the past couple of days.

“Yes,” Sheriff Waters confirmed. “A good two days’ ride farther than where we’re headed. I’ll have some riders continue on with Jed to the station and cautiously scope it out.”

“If the military is there, we’ll bypass them for the next station,” Tom said. “We can’t let them destroy what you’ve worked so hard for. This supply line is working, and it’s going to be critical to our chain of small communities in the coming months.”

“Not you, Mayor,” Sheriff Waters said gruffly. “You’ll be needed here in Mercy. We have plenty of volunteers who can handle the task just as well.”

Tom took his hat off and pursed his lips. It was obvious to Danny that he realized the sheriff was right and didn’t want to admit it. “I knew there’d be reasons I’d regret accepting this role,” he finally said, turning to Patty. “You sure you don’t want the title back?”

Patty slipped an arm through Caleb’s and grinned at Tom. “I’ll be here to help you through the mounting paperwork when you get back, Mayor,” she offered in reply.

“I’ll keep trying to talk to him,” Caleb said, turning away and taking Patty with him. “We’ll be able to talk on the handhelds throughout the morning, until you’re about ten miles south of town. I’ll let you know if I learn anything.”

“Come on,” Sheriff Waters said to Bishop. “Let’s go figure out who’s going to ride on with Jed and make sure they have enough extra provisions for the trip.”

“Can I take Grace inside with me?”

Danny turned to find Chloe standing behind her, holding on to Grace’s collar. “Take her where?”

Chloe gestured to the city hall building. “In there. I need to talk to Caleb. Grace was way too interested in the chickens roaming around up the road.”

“Sure,” Danny said, amused. “Take your time. I was going to check out the market before we head to the ranch. We can meet there.”

As Chloe ran up the steps with Grace, Danny was surprised when Tom took her arm and pulled her in the other direction. He didn’t say anything until they were a couple of buildings away and he glanced back over his shoulder first. “I need to ask you a favor.”

“Sure,” Danny said without hesitation.

“There’s a room in the loft of the barn.” Putting an arm around her shoulders, Tom turned her so they had their backs to the group. “I can’t explain why right now, but there’s a ham radio up there. I need you to go through everything you can find. See if you can determine exactly what sort of information was being exchanged.”

Danny’s thoughts reeled. “What?”

“And then I need you to go through Bishop’s things.”

The connection was clear, and Danny thought she had an idea as to why there was a new tension between the two men. Turning slightly, she placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. When he flinched, her eyes narrowed. “What happened, Tom?”

He turned so that they were facing each other, and he stared at her with an intensity that was both chilling and electrifying. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Danny answered without having to give it any thought. And she did, perhaps more than anyone aside from her own father. “I’d do anything for you, Tom.”

There was no shy glance at her mouth or flustered, unsure gestures that time as Tom lowered his arm from her shoulders and wrapped it around her waist, pulling Danny against him. She felt his other hand at the back of her neck as he buried his fingers in her hair and drew her in for a long, passionate kiss.

Danny responded with a raw need that was only partially satisfied before his lips moved from her mouth and to where her jaw met the curve of her neck. “I promise to come back, Danny,” he whispered before gently pushing away from her.

A strobe of lightning flickered in the distance as Tom took a step back, a physical ache replacing the heat of his touch. She fought her natural instinct to rebel against the intense emotions he was causing, refusing to allow herself to shut him—and the risk of being hurt—out. Perhaps, there in Mercy, Danny could do more than rediscover her passion for life. Maybe it was possible for her to find love.

Chapter 24

CHLOE

City Hall, Mercy, Montana

Chloe had been in Mercy City Hall a few times, but never in the basement. After chasing Grace around a floor full of mostly empty offices, she found the basement access near the back of the building. As Chloe crept cautiously down the shadowy stairway, she admonished herself for every horror show she’d ever watched. Before the world went crazy, if anyone had suggested she’d be legitimately freaked out over a dark basement, Chloe would have laughed. Except, not much made sense anymore and she wasn’t laughing.

At a turn in the second landing, the distant source of light became more apparent and Chloe sighed when she realized there were several solar lights set up. “Come on, Grace,” she whispered to the dog, unsure why she was trying to be quiet. She had noticed that there was something about the lack of electricity in large buildings that compelled people to move carefully and speak quietly. It was an interesting phenomenon and she had some suspicions, but nothing solid. At the moment, it was purely fear.

“Hello?” Chloe called out when she reached the bottom and stepped out into a large, open room full of boxes and supplies. It was like the holy grail of the apocalypse and she was amazed the stuff wasn’t under lock and key. Of course, there were probably only a few people who knew it was all kept there and most everyone was distracted at the moment with the posse out front.

Passing a stack of blankets and pillows, Chloe paused to look at a bag labeled “Toothbrushes”. Since she hadn’t had the nerve yet to tell Ethan his clothes weren’t the only thing of his she’d been using, she bent over to see if there was one with a purple handle.

“Hello?”

Chloe jerked upright, a sparkly green toothbrush in her hand. “Oh!” She gasped in relief when she saw it was Patty. “Bishop told me Caleb still has his ham radio down here. I wanted to check in with him on the whole ‘searching for parental survivors’ quest.”

Patty raised her eyebrows and looked at the implement in Chloe’s hand, as Grace ran over to great her.

“Umm,” Chloe blushed. “It might look like I was creeping around down here, trying to take things, but I honestly just happened to see this great big bag of toothbrushes and figured I could stop swapping spit unknowingly with Ethan.”

Patty put a hand up to stop Chloe when she took a breath to continue. “It’s fine, Chloe. You’re welcome to it. And follow me. Caleb’s radio room, as we’ve been calling it, is right over here.”

Chloe shoved the toothbrush in her back pocket and eagerly followed the older woman. “Why is he down here?” she asked, trying to read the labels on the boxes they passed. She could really use some new underwear.

“Oh, he managed to rig up an antenna he’s really happy with,” Patty explained. She stepped aside as they approached the “room”, where Caleb sat facing a desk, headset on and pencil in hand. He began tapping out some sort of message as they got close and the noise echoed through the cavernous space behind them. “That’s the main reason he’s chosen to stay down here,” Patty continued, pulling a chair over for Chloe. “He claims he doesn’t want to bother anyone, but I suspect it has more to do with not having anyone bother him. He’ll spend hours scanning and listening, and he needs it to be quiet. Anything?” Patty asked when Caleb turned to acknowledge them, removing his headphones.

“Not from the station,” he answered. “Caught a few more words from the weird one I was telling you about, though.”

“Chloe was hoping for an update on the search for her parents,” Patty said, gesturing to the teen.

Chloe took the offered seat and pulled her feet up under her. She’d been putting off asking any questions for days, because she was afraid of the answer. At first, she’d thought it would be better to simply not know. However, after spending some time with Ethan and seeing his reunion with his grandma, she’d been thinking more about her own parents.

“Any news?” Her voice sounded small and she cleared her throat. “I mean, I know you would have let me know if you heard something for sure…but, is there anything?”

Patty placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Tell her what you know, dear.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t much,” Caleb said, pulling the headset the rest of the way down around his neck and giving Chloe his full attention. “My problem is that I don’t know the proper channels the local government or military uses for Washington state. I put out a request locally with our military contact before we pretty much stopped talking to each other. I know they were going to be working on getting lists together, so I’m sure we’ll hear from someone if there’s a match.”

Chloe tried to hide her disappointment by redirecting the conversation. “What’s the weird one?”

“Huh?” Caleb asked, thrown off by the change in subject.

“You mentioned a weird message to Patty. What’s that about?”

Caleb shrugged and picked up a piece of paper that was sitting in front of him. “I spend a lot of time scanning, but with all the atmospheric interference, I don’t get much. It limits the range, which means it’s even more important to be on the right channel to hear anything.”

“It’s not talking, though, right?” Chloe asked, genuinely interested. “It’s, like, just a tapping sound?”

Caleb smiled, and nodded. Grace approached him then and set her head in his lap, provoking a deep, rumbling chuckle from the man. As he rubbed at her ears, he surprised Chloe by handing the sheet of paper to her. “That’s correct. With the damage to the atmosphere it’s impossible to get a voice transmission out. I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to establish that type of communication, other than by setting up a crapload of repeaters, which is what we’ve been planning to do.”

Chloe took the paper and looked at him questioningly before reading it. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve got several other smaller communities we’ve managed to unite, in a way, through our Pony Express. Eventually, we’ll need to increase our trading and exchange of goods and information and when the quickest way to say hello is by horse, things take way too long. We got our main station out by Helena set up with a radio a local there had, but that’s it. Once Tane managed to successfully get a repeater working here above Mercy, we began planning how to place a string of them between our valleys.”

“Seems like a good plan,” Chloe said, impressed.

“To talk about it, you’d think it’s a marvelous idea,” Caleb agreed. “But when it comes down to the logistics of first building these repeaters, and then figuring out where and how to place them to make them work, it turns into something nearly impossible.”

“Thankfully, Bishop’s been helping,” Patty added. “He’s been such a blessing. He’s incredibly knowledgeable in so many areas.”

“Huh,” Chloe grunted as she glanced down at the paper in her hand. It was a jumble of words that didn’t really seem to make any sense. “What is this, and what makes it weird?” she asked, giving it a shake.

“It was strong,” Caleb said simply.

“What do you mean?” Chloe still didn’t get why that made it interesting.

“One of those signals, the one who signs off with ‘B’, is close enough for me to easily pick it up when scanning, although I’ve only heard parts of two transmissions now.”

“How close?” Chloe asked, her interest piqued.

“Closer than the Pony Express station, but it’s impossible really to say where. I figure it’s coming from a private radio operator somewhere within a hundred-mile radius of here.”

“This doesn’t seem to really say anything,” Chloe said, frowning at the seemingly random words.

“Yeah,” Caleb agreed. “I think that was the end of a one-sided transmission. Whoever they were talking to didn’t answer. The other one was slightly more fascinating.”

“Can I see it?” Chloe asked. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt compelled to see more.

Caleb smiled good-naturedly and began flipping through a notebook. “I keep everything filed by date,” he explained. “It was about a week ago. Ah! Here it is.”

Chloe accepted the document and then leaned back in the chair. As she read through it, the sense of unease she’d begun to experience intensified. Sitting up straighter, she read it a second time:

ALL SAFE. ARRIVED AT OFFICE. – H

CURRENT STATUS OF FARM? WILL RENDEZVOUS WHEN ABLE. – B

FARM AT TTT SECURE. WILL STAND BY. – H

HARD COPY. – B

Her stomach suddenly sour, Chloe fought against placing all of the various pieces of the puzzle into place. She didn’t want to see the completed image. Except her brain didn’t work that way. She was gifted, as her teachers called it. Only Chloe wasn’t feeling especially gifted at that moment, sitting there in the shadowy basement under Mercy, holding what was likely something only she and a couple of other people would understand. Because she knew Hicks, and she knew he’d been going to the Trek Thru Trouble office. And she knew Bishop.

Or did she?

Chapter 25

RUSSELL

Henry’s Hollow, Near Mercy, Montana

The opening to the mine in the side of the hill was unimpressive and Russell paused at the threshold, wondering if the exertion would be worth it. Glancing back over his shoulder, he took in the dreary scene behind him. The field housing the natural spring had been transformed from a picturesque landscape to a muddy pit with a rough-looking shack in the middle of it.

The builders were calling it a water shed, and were quite pleased with it. They’d even made a sign to hang over the door. The sloping road and area in front of the shed had been turned into a quagmire by the wagons coming and going during and after the storms moving through. They’d begun to use pavers someone found in an attempt to build a road, but Russell wasn’t impressed with their progress so far.

Where others saw an accomplishment of great proportions, Russell saw yet another vain attempt to control something not meant to be controlled. The thought buoyed his resolve and he turned back to the tunnel with more vigor. If what they’d said about Henry’s Hollow in the meeting was true, he might have found his exodus strategy.

It was getting late in the afternoon and the last water run of the day had just left. They were shorthanded at the spring for several reasons, so Russell had volunteered to help out. The other woman overseeing the loading process rode out with the last wagon, and when Russell found himself alone at the spring, it was the perfect opportunity to explore.

Twenty feet in, the slant downward was enough to cut off most of the light offered by the opening and so Russell took a solar lamp from his pocket. The solar panels were an interesting phenomenon. So long as the devices weren’t hooked up to a battery when the gamma ray tore through the planet, they were unharmed. Ironic, really.

Holding the rather weak light out in front of him, Russell studied the rotting wooden support beams with a critical eye. Lode mining was a dangerous occupation that took off in Montana around the turn of the century, and there weren’t many that operated in the area beyond the 1950s. At least, that was what Dr. Olsen told him when he’d inquired about the local history that morning.

True to how it was depicted, the tunnel branched off a hundred feet in and Russell followed the smaller passageway to the left. He could immediately see a haze of faint daylight a short distance ahead. Encouraged, he continued toward it and in less than five minutes found himself standing at the opening to what could only be described as a grand cavern.

Russell estimated it to be the size of two football fields and at the apex was seventy-five feet tall. There were two openings in the roof of the structure that the fire chief had called chimneys. They allowed in enough light that Russell could see a fair amount of the chamber. Stalactites hung down in the farthest reaches, where water slowly worked its way down from the chimneys and dripped into small pools on the far side of the cave.

Turning in a half-circle, he envisioned it as the industrious townspeople did: covered in rich soil and eventually turning into a sea of wheat or hay. Russell tsked as the image faded and was replaced instead with the hollow as it was meant to be, free of mankind’s influence and interference. Only, it was already marred by the remnants of Mercy’s original settlers.

Stepping carefully down on to the floor of the cave, Russell studied the rusting tools scattered near his feet. A broken wooden cart lay on its side amongst them, its usefulness long faded. A large boulder close to the artifacts was partially defaced by the graffiti of the modern-day Mercy teens who were proud to leave their mark.

Disgusted by the blatant disrespect, Russell turned from the rock and ignored the relics, heading for a stack of crates farther back in the shadows. His pulse quickened as he saw the faded markings on the sides of the wooden boxes. The fire chief and Sheriff Waters had been right, there was an alarming amount of old dynamite.

Counting the crates, Russell discovered there was a total of ten that supposedly weighed fifty pounds each. Not all of them were obviously sweating, but enough were to make it impressive that none of the obnoxious kids entering the cave over the years had blown themselves up.

Some of the crates were open and a few sticks were displaced, so Russell imagined an extra element of danger to entering the cave was the dare to touch the dynamite. Fortunately for the kids, the nearest ones hadn’t degraded to the point that any chemicals had sweated out of it to then crystalize into a highly volatile substance.

Cautiously, Russell walked around the boxes and spotted one at the bottom near the back that was covered in the telltale clumps of whitish material. He took a measured step back and then went over to some of the other discarded materials. After only a few minutes of searching, he found what he was after; a large roll of detonating cord. It was pretty typical to store both the explosives and cord together, so he wasn’t surprised, although it was a relief. He would have been able to rig something else, but having the cord made everything so much easier.

The nice thing about dynamite was that it really hadn’t changed much in over a hundred years of use. It was essentially an absorbent material soaked in nitroglycerin. As an explosive, the older it was, the less stable it became and was easier to detonate. It had been over twenty years since Russell first learned about dynamite, though it wasn’t something you easily forgot.

After running away from home as a teen, he had experienced several different jobs. The one he’d stayed with the longest was a large and prosperous logging company. He didn’t have his CDL and couldn’t drive a truck, but he eventually worked his way up to a hooktender and it paid good money. Enough to get him started in college after a few years. In those early months on the job, he was basically a mule for whatever needed to be done. The initial phase of a clear-cut was to make a road, and in order to carve a road into the side of a mountain, you needed dynamite. A lot of dynamite. Russell may not have been certified to handle it, but he did everything else, and he learned. He always learned.

While he didn’t have the knowledge to determine the yield of the explosion that would be caused by five hundred pounds of dynamite, any idiot could figure out it would be big. More than big. It would be massive.

An added benefit of the old dynamite was that he wouldn’t have to rig the detonator cord directly to the blasting caps. There was enough unstable material there that all it needed was one trigger. The cord was a high-speed fuse, but it would still take long enough to burn through the whole line so that he’d have time to get to a safe enough distance.

“How far away is safe?” Russell asked the empty cavern. Rubbing at his chin, he tilted his head and looked up at the chimneys, considering the depth of the chamber. The mountain was already riddled with tunnels, weakening it. At the least, he figured the spring would easily be destroyed and anyone near it, killed. At best, the blast could bring the whole mountainside down, the resulting landslide burying up to half the town.

The new mayor’s vigilante brigade wouldn’t be back for at least two days and then everyone would be busy getting ready for the town barbeque on the Fourth of July. Russell grinned and started whistling the national anthem. While there wouldn’t be any bombs bursting in the air, he could certainly give them a memorable show.

Taking the detonator cord, he hid it under the remains of the old cart. It wasn’t likely that anyone else would be in the cave in the next couple of days but there was no need to be careless. He’d hate to lose the useful material.

Wiping his hands off on his jeans, Russell took one last fleeting look at Henry’s Hollow and felt a strong sense of synchronicity. It was something he’d experienced occasionally throughout his life, typically when he first met one of his victims. Lately, it was on a grander scale.

His eyes bright with excitement, Russell reluctantly backed out of the cavern. He had a funeral to officiate.

Chapter 26

JAMES

Master Sergeant, US Marines, 1st Force Reconnaissance

Somewhere in Central Montana

The blades of the helo slowly rotated behind them as the motor whined down, kicking up dirt and debris from the abandoned highway. After a long night of waiting for the sun to rise so they could get over the mountains, the rugged group of soldiers and lone diplomat made it to their destination on barely more than fumes.

James squinted up at the tree-covered mountains of the Lewis and Clark National Forest. Although he’d hiked and camped in them for most of his life, it was always awe-inspiring. Even more so when you were dropped into the middle of them in a sputtering helicopter.

“Moving him has opened the wound back up,” Flores directed to James. He was helping Hawk limp down the road and a fresh trickle of blood was oozing through the gauze wrapped around his calf. The corporal looked around at the uninhabited landscape. “I’d really like to get a few stitches in this, sooner than later.”

Senator Jenson glanced at her head of security and put a hand out in front of James. When he only slowed but didn’t stop, her face clouded with anger. “Stop!” she shouted, while planting her feet and stubbornly blocking his way. “You need to start giving me some answers, Sergeant. I don’t even know where we are and I’ve left behind all—” Her voice caught and she looked away from James, clenching her jaw and staring at the large pine trees hugging the road.

James exchanged a look with Jay and then Lucas. Corporal Lance and Sergeant Lee had stayed back with the pilot to guard the helicopter on the off chance anyone armed tried to approach it. He’d intentionally landed a few miles away from his target for that reason, although so far, even with the loud arrival there wasn’t another soul to be seen.

Emotional conversations weren’t his forte and James had avoided speaking with the woman as much as possible. But she had a point and he knew the senator deserved some sort of explanation. “For now, our mission is to locate my father and then get you both to a safe place. From there, we’ll work on getting your family.”

“And we’re accomplishing that by flying around the skies of Montana until we run out of gas?” the senator retorted, clearly unimpressed with the plan.

James had refused to tell her or Hawk where they were headed. The ex-soldier understood why, but the senator was a harder sell. It was for the same reason his own men were often left out of the details of an assignment. If something went sideways, there was less chance of any sensitive information getting out. In this case, James was trying to protect the suspected location of his dad. It was something General Montgomery sought, and he would do anything necessary to prevent the general from getting it. If that meant having to babysit an irate senator, James could live with that.

“That building we saw from the air is a couple more miles up ahead,” James explained, moving around Senator Jenson and motioning for his men to follow. “It belongs to an organization my father volunteered for and there’s a good chance that’s where he was when the gamma ray hit. I found information that indicated he was on vacation during the event and I know he had plans to come here sometime this summer.”

“What makes you think he’d still be there?” Hawk asked. Though he was pale and clearly in pain, he was still moving and James was impressed with his resilience.

“Because it’s what I would have done,” he said simply. “For whatever reason, he doesn’t want to be found. I know my dad. For him to still be dark, it either means he’s dead or else it’s intentional. If it’s the latter, I think we’ll find him here. The office is isolated, remote, and likely well-stocked with survival gear. It’s a good place for someone who doesn’t want to be found.”

“Except by someone who would know he’s there,” Senator Jenson said thoughtfully. “And if he was on that list and already on General Montgomery’s radar, then I’m guessing he was already under some intense scrutiny prior to the flashpoint. What makes you think you’re the only one who knows about this place?”

James glanced over at the senator and raised his eyebrows in silent approval. “I knew better than to ask why, but the time my dad spent here was off the grid. He worked under an alias and I’m pretty sure he covered any trace of his involvement.”

“And this was normal to you?” the senator asked, rolling her shoulders.

James chuckled. “I didn’t know what normal was until I was old enough to understand that my friend’s families were different. My dad’s been in the military my whole life and worked special ops, including black, since I was a kid. I learned early on not to ask questions, because they wouldn’t be answered.”

“And if he isn’t here?” Hawk asked. “What then? Because that bird isn’t going to take us much farther unless you happen to have some jet fuel lying around out here somewhere.”

“It might be a good place to lie low for a few days,” James said. “I know the area, and we aren’t far from Malmstrom Air Force base. I’ve got some potential contacts there.”

Senator Jenson nodded and looked somewhat relieved. “Okay. That’s a beginning, at least.”

“You think they got a decent field kit at this place?” Flores asked, handing Hawk off to Lucas to get a break.

“It’s a survivalist outfit that takes people on long treks,” James explained. “I’m pretty sure they’ve got some advanced first aid gear.”

James caught a flicker of movement off to his left, a shadow moving in between a stand of ponderosa pines. Without reacting, he casually moved his right hand out away from his body and made a slight motion to Jay. His friend responded with a mere nod of his head and then slowed his step until he was several paces behind James.

When the movement came again, the two men reacted as one, swinging their rifles around simultaneously toward the potential threat. “Show yourself!” James bellowed, his deep voice echoing through the valley.

“James?”

James pivoted around to face the opposite side of the road, where the new voice had originated. Moving agilely from the woods was a man he recognized, and a brief flash of anticipation blossomed in his chest until he forced the emotional reaction down. He knew the soldier, but his being there didn’t make any sense.

“You can stand down, Sergeant,” the man said with authority, his hands weaponless and out to his side. “It’s okay, Adam!” he shouted. “Ben! You guys can come out.” James shifted slightly to observe two teen boys emerge from the trees. “We’re cool here. Right, James?”

James studied the rugged appearance of the man. He was wearing hiking clothes that were torn and dirty, but his face and hair looked recently washed. Though he’d clearly been roughing it, his face wasn’t sallow or haggard like so many other survivors they’d seen over the past few weeks.

His name was Captain Brandon Hampton. He was an intelligence officer who had worked for his father for the past four years. James had only met him a few times as he and his father had become more distant, but the fact that the captain was there was both encouraging and confusing.

James lowered his M4 the rest of the way and motioned for his men to do the same. The teens appeared to be unarmed and had come to stand behind Hampton, glancing nervously at the soldiers. “What are you doing here, Ha—”

“Hicks,” the captain interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he stared steadily at James. “I’m just called Hicks when I’m volunteering out here with the kids.”

Some more of the pieces fell into place for James then, but the only outward sign of his revelation was that he stood a little straighter and his eyes widened for a fleeting moment. Though he had always suspected the Trek Thru Trouble was a front for something, he couldn’t imagine what it was. That it was somehow connected to his dad being on the list hadn’t been a consideration until then, and James silently chastised himself for not being more perceptive. However, they had all still somehow managed to be there at that moment, and he knew it was more than just a coincidence.

“You know why I’m here,” James said simply, and waited for the rest of their quest to be fulfilled.

Hicks smiled then and ran a hand over his head, clearly relieved. “You can’t possibly know how happy I am to see you guys,” he offered before taking several steps closer to James. Once in front of him, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked up with an expression of determination. “I know where your father is, James. If you’d like, I can take you there. It’s a place called Mercy.”

Chapter 27

TOM

South of Mercy, Montana

The persistent feeling that he was missing something wouldn’t allow Tom to relax. Even though it was past dusk and the shadows were moving in, he continued to pace along the edge of the road with a nervous energy he wasn’t accustomed to.

“Here.”

Tom turned to find Bishop holding out a steaming cup of coffee, his expression hard to read. The two of them hadn’t spoken much since the night before, leaving things at a sort of uneasy truce until they could get beyond the current situation. Tom didn’t regret asking Danny to look through his things, but he hoped he was wrong. If for no other reason than his mother’s sake, although the man was undeniably beneficial to have around.

He accepted the drink and then scrutinized the fire burning in their camp. “It could be bigger,” he commented. Walking past Bishop, he bent to pick up a couple of sticks and then tossed them on the fire.

They’d arrived that afternoon to where the trail they suspected the desperados used intersected with the freeway. The real Pony Express riders, Barry and Jed, broke off from the group a mile in advance, while the rest of them hung back and dispersed evenly into the woods. There were eleven of them total, including two of the sheriff’s deputies, and three men and one woman volunteer. They were all well-armed, and with the element of surprise, shouldn’t have an issue overpowering the other, more ragged gang.

When they failed to encounter anyone on the road, Tom sent one of the deputies ahead to scout for several miles. He returned an hour later without coming across any signs of their assailants lying in wait.

Since it was obvious there wasn’t an ambush already set up for them, they moved on to plan B. Bishop and Tom made an obvious camp a short distance past the trail with a large fire to advertise their location. If no one took the bait by late morning, they’d go ahead and make a direct assault on the outlaws’ camp. While he’d rather draw them out, Tom had no problem taking the fight to them. Except…his intuition was causing him to replay the various scenarios in his head, looking for the factor that his subconscious was screaming at him to notice.

“We’re supposed to look like unsuspecting Pony Express riders, not idiots dancing around a bonfire,” Bishop muttered. He stomped past Tom and sat down on a rotting log. “What’s the matter with you? Sit down.”

Tom clenched his jaw and forced himself to stop moving. He was well aware the rest of their men were listening, concealed nearby in the woods. Squatting a couple of feet away from Bishop, he took a long gulp of coffee before finally looking at him, and spoke in a low voice. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Tom expected the older man to laugh or ridicule him in some way. Instead, Bishop stood slowly and took a long look around. Without commenting, he unclipped the radio from his belt. “Waters, this is Bishop. Status?”

It was the sheriff’s idea to bring two radios so they could communicate with each other over short distances. So far, it was working well. He was staked out with one of his deputies just north of the trail.

“We’re status—stand by.”

Tom and Bishop looked at each other, the tension building.

“We’ve got a rider!” Sheriff Waters whispered. “One rider approaching the road from the trail.”

“Let him go,” Bishop barked into the radio as he moved toward the fire. He waved his other arm at the nearby trees to signal the men to start moving. “Help me put this out,” he said calmly to Tom.

Tom was again left with an impression of a man who had done more than served briefly in the military, but he didn’t have time to mull over those implications. Instead, he joined Bishop in kicking the dirt they’d stockpiled on the fire, successfully smothering it.

Jed and Barry ran across the highway with Deputy Moore, so that both sides of the road would be covered. Tom and Bishop stood in the middle, rifles in hand, and Tom could already hear the horse approaching at a decent pace.

“Just the one,” Sheriff Waters’ voice squawked from the radio at Bishop’s waist.

Tom frowned. Only one rider? Odds were that he was one of the desperados, since he came from the trail, but it was entirely possible it was someone else.

As horse and rider became visible in the gathering darkness, Tom raised his rifle. “Law enforcement! Stop and identify yourself!”

The clopping of the horse’s hooves stuttered and then stopped as the rider pulled up hard, nearly unseating himself. Tom could tell right away that he was a young and inexperienced rider.

“Get off the horse,” Bishop ordered, not allowing any room for introductions or pleasantries.

The man shifted in his saddle and his horse took a few voluntary steps forward, making his face more visible. Tom was surprised to discover he wasn’t much older than Ethan, though his hardened expression was full of hate and loathing. “Why in the hell would you think I’m going to listen to you?” He held both of his hands low at his sides, so that they weren’t visible.

“Jason?”

Tom glanced sideways at Bishop, surprised by the tone of his voice and the fact that he seemed to know the kid’s name. Confused, he wavered slightly in his concentration and it was the opening Jason was looking for.

Kicking his horse, the teen leaned forward at the same time and raised his right hand up to level a gun in their direction. The mare charged, her eyes wild, as Jason shot randomly at them.

Tom leaped out of the way, unable to clearly aim past the horse. Rolling once as two more rounds exploded nearby, he came up on a knee and brought the rifle around. With the boy in his sights, Tom hesitated. Taking revenge by shooting a teenager in the back while he fled wasn’t something he could ever resort to. Lowering the weapon, he looked over to confirm Bishop was okay and was surprised to see him take off running down the road.

“Jason!” Bishop yelled, sprinting faster.

Tom quickly followed and noticed how the boy was leaning sideways in the saddle. Jason only made it twenty more feet before falling to the ground, where he lay unmoving. The horse continued to trot away but eventually stopped, her sides heaving as she stomped at the blacktop.

Sheriff Waters and his deputy came galloping down the road, and he took the scene in before reholstering his pistol. “No other riders so far!” Waters called out.

Bishop had already rolled the boy over by the time Tom caught up and it was obvious he had suffered a fatal wound. A section of his neck was torn open, and blood pooled rapidly under him as he bled out.

“You know him?” Tom asked, trying to piece it all together.

Bishop nodded, his face stoic. “Yes. He was one of the boys from my original hiking group. His name is Jason.”

Tom couldn’t fathom how a teenager who had started out on a week-long survival excursion could have ended up with a group of killers targeting Mercy. “Wait,” Tom said, remembering one of his mom’s stories. “Is this the same guy you caught up at the lake? The one who tried to steal the horses?”

“He’s also the one who attempted to rob me,” Jed confirmed as he joined them. “I’m sorry if I killed him, Bishop. He was shooting at you. I didn’t think I had much choice.”

Bishop held a bloody hand up to stop Jed from saying anything else. “Yeah, Tom. It’s him.” Staring intently at Jason for a moment, Bishop let go of his shoulders and then stood. “He’s gone.” He looked back to where the sheriff sat on his horse. “He’s obviously not a one-man posse. He’s doing something else out here.”

“Bishop, I—”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Bishop said, interrupting Jed. “He chose this.” He pointed at the dead teen and the horse that was slowly walking back to them. “Life is all about the choices we make. I tried to get that simple message through to him in the few days we were together, but he wasn’t willing to listen.”

Tom was trying not to compare Jason to his own son, and some of the choices they’d all been faced with since the world fell apart. He was struck by the feeling that this connection with the boy and Bishop and the ranch all led to something more.

The mare approached him, and Tom wondered if it had been stolen from their other riders. Taking a rein, he gave her a cursory glance to make sure she wasn’t shot, before noticing the saddle bags. The markings on the bag confirmed it belonged to their Pony Express, but Tom was more concerned with what might be inside them. Bishop was right; the kid was out there for a reason. Pulling the leather satchel off the horse, he dumped its contents on the ground.

Aside from a knife, water, and some food, the only other item of interest was a curious-looking envelope. It was a large, manila envelope with block writing in the top left corner:

COMMAND CENTER TWO

DUKE RANCH

Tom’s breath quickened as he opened it and pulled out a torn, half-sheet of paper. The lettering on it was much rougher than that on the envelope. He struggled to see it in the fading light, but the simple correspondence was painfully clear as he read it out loud for everyone to hear.

“Orders received. We accept the terms. Cattle will be delivered as instructed on Miner’s Trail. Leaving now.” Tom’s voice cracked as the meaning of the letter sank in.

“There’s something on the other side,” Bishop pointed out.

Turning the sheet over, Tom realized that the outlaws must have simply torn off the lower half of the original correspondence to answer it. The name neatly printed just below the crease shouldn’t have been a surprise. “Dillinger,” he growled, crumpling the paper up in his hand.

Of course. That was the connection he’d missed and should have realized the night before when Bishop told him about the Duke Ranch. They’d found the maps he and Jesper Duke had spent an evening poring over and marking routes on. Dillinger had already known about Mercy and Jason knew exactly where the farm and cattle were.

“He was just a messenger,” Bishop said, mirroring Tom’s thoughts.

What had he done?

Tom reeled away from the other men and began to run for Lilly.

Life was all about choices.

Tom leapt onto Lilly’s back and they set off up the darkening road at a gallop. Even if she ran all night, they might not get there in time.

Bishop was right. Tom had made the choice to seek revenge under the guise of protecting the town, and in doing so had left them vulnerable. While they’d been riding away from the people they loved, the desperados were already heading toward them.

The fight for Mercy was about to begin, and it would start with an attack on Miller Ranch.

Mercy

The Flashpoint Series Book 6

Preface

Twenty-two days. Less than a month since a cosmic event capable of destroying planets was aimed at the Earth. With only a glancing blow, the gamma-ray burst obliterated billions of lives in an instant. Unleashing a chain of cascading catastrophes, it brought the remaining population to its knees…and the brink of extinction.

With the ozone layer shredded, Earth’s atmosphere has been transformed, its delicate balance of life-sustaining compounds permanently altered. The surface of the planet reaps the resulting fallout from the radiation, acid rain, changing weather patterns, and unusual animal behaviors. All electrical components were destroyed and communication made nearly impossible in the aftermath. In this new environment, it is imperative to adapt to the mounting obstacles just to survive, let alone flourish.

Danny. The fiercely independent woman was already on a journey of discovery when she found herself stranded over four hundred miles from her home. After pairing up with a chemistry teacher, Sam Ruiz, and a stray dog named Grace, she was forced to examine sides of herself she would have rather left hidden. Throughout the unbelievable challenges faced along the way, her new friends and a young boy named Ethan emerged as Danny’s lifelines. Against all odds, in the sea of confusion a rancher named Thomas Miller has become her anchor.

Tom. As a single father and owner of a large cattle ranch, he is the epitome of a good ol’ country boy. Except nothing is ever as it seems, and Tom has his own demons to fight. He may have successfully delivered his son and friends to his hometown of Mercy, Montana, but it soon became apparent that their struggles weren’t over. Finding himself thrust into a leadership role, Tom quickly learns that his sometimes-impulsive decisions have a broader impact now and might put everyone at risk.

Ethan. Ethan Miller is a lot like his father, and the teen has proven he’s just as resilient. Being in Mercy and finding a new friend in Chloe has helped the healing process begin, so he can try and put the darkest days after the flashpoint behind him. While the constant challenges of everyday life offer a good distraction, there are other threats looming and he has yet to face his greatest hardship.

Chloe. Though she might have started out her journey as a troubled teen on a trek for redemption, Chloe Benson has been one of the few to keep a level head when so many others fell apart. Incredibly intelligent and intuitive, she’s aligned herself with people who appeared to understand what it would take to survive. Now, together with Ethan and his family, she will fight alongside them to protect Miller Ranch and the place she has come to call home.

Patty. As a retired nurse and the mayor of Mercy for several years, she did all she could to keep her town from falling apart after the gamma-ray burst. Having stepped down as mayor, she plans to focus on healing instead of leading. Fate might have something else in mind. With the danger from the military, outlaws, and others unseen approaching, her role may not be that easy to define.

General Montgomery has never questioned his role or his destiny and he still believes it is up to him to save those left alive in the United States. He’s so sure of his tactics that he’ll do anything necessary to stop those who oppose him, including the leaders left in the civilian government.

Master Sergeant James Campbell, leader of the Marines Special Operations Forces, 1st Force Reconnaissance, was one of the weapons in the general’s arsenal. James might be a loyal soldier, but he’s also a patriot. When his orders required him to turn on the civilian government, he took matters into his own hands. James and his team have marshaled a US senator into hiding, and he’s about to be reunited with his father. While he suspects they’re all a part of a greater scheme, the endgame is more complex than he could have imagined.

Russell Boyd’s plan is just getting started. He has many places to go and countless lives to end in order to rid the Earth of its infestation. The flashpoint was the greatest thing to have ever happened to him, and only proved that he’d been on the right path all along. A path filled with righteousness and synchronicity. Russell may never be done, but he’ll happily play his role until he’s no longer needed. First, he has work to finish in Mercy.

All have been led to the small mountain town of Mercy, Montana for different reasons. In this final episode, their lives will collide as they fight for love, justice, power, and their very existence.

Chapter 1

ERIC

Location Unknown

The darkness was absolute. Like a blanket, it covered Eric, smothering him as if it were something tangible. Clawing and pulling, it threatened to drag him down into the deepest recesses of his mind.

A light flared, erupting into the space and transforming some of the blackness into dancing shadows. Eric flinched, cowering from the shifting forms and whimpering as he desperately tried to ignite a pile of wood.

Eric.

He froze at the whispered word, his fear overriding his need to see and allowing the lighter to go cold in his shaking hand. Blind again, he jerked back to attention and fumbled with the device, his thumb sliding off the striker four times before it caught. His rapid breaths sounded like a sick, gasping dog and he swallowed once and licked his lips, forcing himself to slow his breathing.

Eric.

“No, no, no,” he pled, his voice small. His lips stuck together as he mouthed other words that wouldn’t quite form, all the while holding the small flame to first one stick and then another. Finally, one took and he focused on it, kneeling in close and blowing just enough to give the fire life.

We’re here, Eric.

“Go away!” Eric was on his feet and screaming before he could control his movements. One of his feet knocked a log aside, scattering some of the wood. Sparks rose, winking out of existence as they drifted in front of his face. “Just like all the people,” he moaned, while looking around, dazed.

Enough of the kindling kept burning so that he remained in a limited patch of illumination, but everything beyond the fire’s small perimeter remained hidden. Eric couldn’t remember where he was. He raised his hands and splayed his fingers along his forehead and face, pressing against his skull until it caused pain. When that didn’t work, he slapped himself once, hard.

They’re all dead, Eric.

“Shut up!”

Eric turned in a circle, disoriented. Was he in a cave? No. A basement. He was in the basement of someone’s house. Not his.

The floor was suddenly beneath him, his face pressing into the cold cement. Memories came rushing back of the light in the sky, the darkness and confusion in the days following. He and Myra had gone to the mountains. To their cabin.

“M…Myra,” he stuttered, sucking up dirt from the floor and crunching it between his teeth. “Myra!” Pushing himself up onto his forearms, Eric strained to see into the corners of the room. Was Myra there? Is that who was talking to him?

Shame suddenly welled up in his chest, a familiar feeling he’d wrestled with for over a decade, ever since his diagnosis.

The clozapine. Eric shut his eyes, trying desperately to hold on to the clear thought. To follow it back to something more coherent like a trail of breadcrumbs. He’d run out of his medication over a week before. He’d been okay for a couple of days, and then it started. The voices. The paranoia. Hallucinations and an inability to think or speak comprehensibly. Normally, he was a properly functioning, intelligent man of thirty-six. He’d maintained a steady job and relationship for years, against the odds, thanks to the medication. Without it, the schizophrenia crawled back into his brain and slowly took over. It…

It’s coming for you, Eric.

He was back on his feet. Something was in his right hand. Something cold, hard, and heavy. The room was dark again.

The Bic was already in his other hand and Eric successfully lit it the first time. He was still in the basement, but the fire had gone out. How long had it been since his last lucid moment? His thumb began to burn as he dropped to his knees and he ignored the pain as he held the flame against what was left of the kindling. It must have been dry because it caught immediately, and he watched as the orange tendrils curled around the sticks, caressing it while devouring it, much like…

You have to stop them, Eric.

Movement.

Eric leapt to his feet and brought the object in his right hand up, hefting the rifle into place as he swiveled to face whatever was down in the basement with him. He could smell it now; a wet, dank, rotten odor. It reminded him of the time he dug up their pet cat several days after its death, because he wouldn’t believe it was dead. He was twelve, and had recently watched Pet Sematary, which filled his head with wild notions that had been harder for him to discern from reality than other kids.

There was nothing there. No oily form slinking in the corners, waiting to lure him close enough to drag him down to hell. Perhaps he was already there.

“No…no. I’m alive. I’m here. I don’t know where here is, but I’m somewhere. I’m nowhere. I…” Eric’s muttered words trailed off as a pressure exploded in his head, causing him to gasp. He staggered back several steps before whirling around, pointing the weapon at any unforeseen demons at his back.

They’re here.

Sounds from above. Eric shook his head, trying to rid himself of the pain left behind like a lingering shadow. That was how he’d come to describe the random attacks that were often the prelude to a bad…episode.

Thump…thump…scrape.

There was someone there. In the house with him. They were coming to get him.

Eric began to sob, his thoughts spiraling towards the black pit he knew he wouldn’t come back from. Not without help. Not without the medicine. Only, there wasn’t any more medicine. There wasn’t any—

Don’t let them take you, Eric. ERIC…ERIC…ERIC…

“N—no, no one. I—I—can’t…won’t take me.” Eric shuffled forward until his feet hit the base of the stairs. His eyes reflected the flickering firelight as he squatted, wide-eyed, with the rifle pointed in front of him. Rocking slightly, someone close by might have mistaken the low sounds he made as humming, instead of the incoherent ramblings of a madman.

“Eric?” Myra called timidly. “Are you down there?”

A small sliver of natural light crept down the stairs as the old, wooden door creaked open a few inches.

Eric froze. Was that Myra? No, she was gone. They were all gone. He was already dead and this—

They’ve come to take you.

A red mist began to engulf the light on the stairs. It pulsed like it had a heartbeat, a sulfuric smell spilling ahead of it as it grew larger…closer.

“I won’t go!” Eric wailed.

The sun was just beginning to rise over the small glen, where the rustic cabin sat amid a cluster of pine trees. A stream meandered through the clearing, alive with fish and life-sustaining water. It would have been an ideal spot to ride out the end of the world. To start over.

A shot cracked through the stillness, causing birds to take flight. A minute later, a second round rang out, and then the valley fell into a deep, eternal silence.

Chapter 2

DANNY

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

Mist rose from the fields, chasing away the last of the night as a howling wind turned it into writhing tendrils of ghostly apparitions. The air was heavy with pent-up energy on the verge of being released, and birds took flight in advance of it.

Danny stared up at the angry, churning clouds and cursed under her breath. It was horrible timing. Her feet were already damp from the dense morning dew that clung to the overgrown grass surrounding the farmhouse, and her sweatshirt wasn’t enough to keep out the chill. Her hair smelled like woodsmoke from the morning fire and her hands were already dirty.

While they’d managed to get a decent amount of the field cut the day before, there was still at least two days of work left to do. Danny could only guess how the hay would be affected by being bundled and stacked wet. Sandy was nearly frantic about it, waking everyone before dawn to get started on their tasks. Danny was dismayed to see that it looked like the rain could let loose at any minute.

She was quickly coming to understand how much juggling of priorities were involved with running the farm, especially under the current circumstances. Sandy had taken Sam with her at daybreak to go check on how the calving was going, while Ethan went to ride the line of the upper field in advance of the storm. He was concerned that he might have missed something since he hadn’t checked it for a couple of days. Having hay wouldn’t do them any good if the cows weren’t alive to eat it. Danny was impressed with the teen’s work ethic and it was obvious that he took his dad’s request to watch over things very seriously.

She had also taken Tom’s last-minute request to heart, and had already gone through the room above the barn. Danny was initially confused when she saw the radio, but after sifting through the papers left on the desk, it was fairly apparent what it was all about. That didn’t explain whose radio it was or why Tom asked her to look into it, but the logical assumption was that it belonged to Bishop. That would also explain why he wanted her to look through his personal belongings.

“Come on, Grace,” she called absently. The retriever was uncharacteristically antsy, pacing back and forth and occasionally whining. Danny figured she picked up on everyone’s nerves as they waited for word about the ambush, in addition to the looming storm.

She unclipped the radio from her belt and tried to reach someone for the third time that morning.

“Miller Ranch to Mercy Base. Over.”

Danny frowned at the radio as nothing but static was returned. She knew it would probably be several more hours before Tom and the others were close enough to reach anyone. Even with the repeater boosting the signal, they had to be within a certain number of miles from the guard at the south end of town. They would then relay it on. However, the ranch could normally communicate with anyone in Mercy, and sometimes even the guard station, thanks to the enhancement of the signal. When they were greeted with static that morning, Sam suggested that the storm was likely running interference, which made sense, but it still ratcheted Danny’s anxiety up another notch.

A gust of wind blew her hair forward and across her face as she walked toward the barn, and Danny pushed it back impatiently. She was frustrated as well as irritated about not knowing what was happening to Tom, or with the storm and isolation. And because it felt like she was violating Sandy’s trust by sneaking around her farm and going through her friend’s things.

Danny almost let Sam in on her secret mission, wanting to seek out his advice, and even went out to the bunkhouse the night before after discovering the radio. However, as soon as she stepped into the room, he’d immediately begun to go on about his indoor farming plans. He was so excited that Danny couldn’t bring herself to drag him down into yet another problem. She was determined to handle it on her own.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Danny confirmed that Chloe and Crissy weren’t behind her. They were supposed to be headed for the hayfield to start cutting. They would have a nice stack ready for her by the time she got a couple of horses saddled and prepared to haul the bales to the barn. The six of them had worked out a good system during the long hours of work the previous day. Although sore, Danny was actually looking forward to the hard labor. It helped clear her head and gave her a stronger sense of purpose, both things she was actively trying to improve on.

A horse neighed and stomped in response to a larger gust of wind as Danny rounded the corner of the barn. Instead of entering, she continued to the bunkhouse and paused at the door. She knew Tom wouldn’t have asked her to spy on Bishop if it weren’t important. Given the discovery of a secret radio…she guessed the implications could be far-reaching. Gathering a breath, she pushed through the entrance and blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the gloomy interior.

Sam might be rather brilliant, but he was a horrible housekeeper. His bed was unmade, with clothes strewn across it. A towel and mismatched dirty socks were piled next to it on the floor. Four cups, all half-full of liquid, were sitting on the only table, along with several sheets of paper and two notebooks. Randomly stacked wood had fallen to the side of the woodstove and scattered across the floor so that Danny nearly tripped over it.

Bishop’s half of the room, on the other hand, was tidy and well kept. His bed was even made with sharp corners folded in the covers and his bag was neatly placed at the foot of it, on the floor.

Already feeling guilty, Danny grabbed the large hiking backpack and set it on the bed. Unclasping the top, she gingerly reached in and took a few items out one at time. A comb, bug spray, and deodorant. She wondered why Bishop hadn’t taken it with him, and figured it was because such a large bag would be cumbersome on a horse, and unnecessary for such a short trip. Sighing, Danny fully committed and, lifting the bag, shook all of its contents out onto the bed.

Two changes of hiking clothes and a pair of extra shoes fell out. There were also several pairs of socks, a useless flashlight, and a first-aid kit. She felt like it was getting harder to breathe as Danny heard a noise and looked up to find Grace sitting in the middle of the room, watching her. “Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, turning her attention back to the bag. She was taking too long and needed to get to the horses.

There were several side pockets and the inside one contained the first item of any interest. It was an old photograph of a younger Bishop and teenage boy, although they were close to the same size. Danny could see the resemblance and assumed it was most likely his son. Hadn’t someone said he had one that was supposed to be in Germany when the gamma-ray hit? There was nothing written on the back, so she set it aside. The only other thing in the pocket was a compass. Except it wasn’t an ordinary compass, but an ornate piece made from silver and inside there was an engraved message:

Colonel Campbell

May you always find your way home

Campbell? Danny didn’t know what Bishop’s real name was, so the compass could belong to anyone…but she was certain it was his. She found it very believable that the man served some time in the military, and although that might give her reason to doubt him, the effect was just the opposite. If nothing else, Bishop seemed like a man of integrity, and the one thing Danny was still sure of was her gut. It had never let her down.

She hurriedly started to place the contents back in the bag, trying to remember how they’d been packed. Giving up quickly, Danny huffed and randomly jammed it all inside. It would be better if she confessed, anyway. He’d probably understand.

The door swung on its hinges, moaning as another gust of wind blew into the room. Danny jumped at the sound and dropped the backpack to the floor as Grace whined again. The dog smacked her chops and jumped to her feet, ready to leave.

“Okay, Grace, I’m with you. Let’s get out of here.” Relieved that she didn’t find anything incriminating, Danny ran for the stalls, eager to get the horses saddled and underway for the day. She grabbed at the radio as she went, trying one more time.

“Miller Ranch to anyone on this channel. Can you read me? Over.”

Random clicks and more static. Danny was pretty sure that meant someone was at least trying to talk to her. Whether or not they could hear what she was saying, though, she had no way of knowing. “If you can hear me, I’m unable to read you. Please update with any information on the group if it comes in.”

Gritting her teeth to keep from cussing again, Danny went to re-clip the radio, but paused when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She was in front of the large double doors of the barn, looking to the southwest. The girls should be southeast of that location, and everyone else was nowhere near there. It was essentially the back part of the main property that adjoined all of the various trails and roads into the eastern fields.

Grace began to growl low in her throat as Danny froze and searched for the source of the motion. She knew she wasn’t imagining it—Grace’s reaction only confirmed it.

She was being watched. Although she couldn’t see anyone, Danny knew instinctively that she wasn’t alone. Slowly, she reached behind her for the edge of the door, getting ready to dive inside.

Before she’d even touched the wooden frame, a loud shot cracked nearby and Danny’s head simultaneously whipped around as something struck it. She could still hear the sound echoing as the ground rushed towards her and everything went black.

Chapter 3

CHLOE

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

“I have to go see him tonight! I don’t care if it’s dark out,” Crissy insisted. Dropping the armload of tools she was carrying, she turned to Chloe and stuck her hands on her hips. “Trevor is going to think I’ve forgotten about him!”

Snorting, Chloe reached for one of the sickles, the blisters on the palm of her hand reminding her to put her gloves on. “I don’t think that’s possible. Besides, you missed one day, Crissy. One. Day.” The insane wind churned the dirt at their feet, sending a billowing cloud of dust up and around them before dissipating. It was going to be an interesting day.

Chloe wiped at her stinging eyes and stood with the sickle before pulling at her gloves, then stopped and bit her lip to keep from scoffing again when she saw the look on her friend’s face. The girl was serious. Unbelievable. “Look,” she said instead, trying with every fiber of her being to not make fun of Crissy. “We’re getting such an early start out here, I’m sure we’ll manage to have dinner at a decent time. I’ll offer to go with you, so Sandy shouldn’t protest, even if it’s dark out.”

Crissy beamed. “Really, Chlo?”

Feeling a little guilty, she nodded eagerly. “You bet!”

In reality, Chloe was only offering because she knew Ethan, being the gentleman that he was, would insist on going with them. The two of them could then duck out of the clinic after visiting with Trevor for a few minutes and attempt to have some fun. Patty had said she was welcome to sort through the supplies in the basement of City Hall. She could use some soap, and even though it would be kinda late, Chloe was hoping to catch Caleb there. She really wanted to show Ethan the transcripts from the mystery transmissions and get his take on it.

Thinking about Ethan prompted Chloe to pause and look out across what was left of the hayfield. She knew he’d be gone for at least a couple of hours, and that it was important to make sure the cows were secure, but he definitely made the time pass more quickly when he was with her. Ethan could also cut an impressive amount of hay in a short span of time. The sooner they finished with the grueling chore, the faster they could move on to everything else. Like implementing her plan for digging out the water trough and getting to work on Henry’s Hollow. He still needed to show the cave to her.

“Have you asked Ethan to the dance yet?” Crissy asked, moving up next to Chloe.

She looked over at her friend, assuming she was joking. “You can’t be serious.”

Crissy positioned her hands on her sickle so she had a good grip before taking a practice swing. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She wrinkled her nose at Chloe. “Life must go on.”

“You do know what’s happening beyond this farm, right?” Chloe demanded, her voice holding more contempt than she’d meant. Crissy looked at her with a pained expression. Of course she knew. Her friend wasn’t stupid; Crissy was just good at ignoring the upsetting stuff and focusing on the mundane. A characteristic Chloe had never embodied. She took a slow breath and tried again. “Don’t be surprised if they cancel the dance, after all that’s happened the past few days. But we’ll still have the barbeque,” she rushed to add, determined to be positive about something. “Everyone has to eat, no matter how messed up things get.”

Chloe took several brisk steps until she reached the end of the row, and had a clear view up the hill. She faced into the wind, squinting, and was surprised that she didn’t see Danny headed their way. Looking for her would be a good distraction, because she couldn’t handle the conversation anymore. She’d gotten better at walking away from confrontations, instead of being so…Chloe-like. “I’m going to check on Danny,” she called back to Crissy. “She’s taking too long. Maybe she needs some help!” Her words were torn away by the wind, even though they were less than twenty feet apart. Crissy waved absently in acknowledgement and began swinging at the base of the tall grass.

It was early morning, though it was much darker than it should have been, thanks to the gathering clouds. Chloe glanced up nervously at the lightning that was beginning to flicker through the base of the storm. Each time another bolt hit, the experience was worse than the last, and that was saying a lot. She’d never been afraid of storms before, but that was partly because they were predictable to a certain degree, and she knew what to expect. An odd strobing of bluish light preceded a hollow-sounding reverberation reminiscent of an alien vessel descending from the sky, punctuating Chloe’s thoughts. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have such a vivid imagination,” she scoffed, quickening her pace until she was almost running.

Nearing the top of the hill, her legs were already burning and she slowed, noticing at the same time a strange sort of ozone smell. It was similar to the scent after an intense rain, or right before… Chloe froze, looking at the tool she was still holding. The long metallic blade on the end of the pole would be perfect for attracting electricity. Tossing the tool aside, she turned towards the barn that she could finally see in the distance. What in the world was Danny doing up there?

Chloe spotted Grace first, as the dog ran back and forth. Frowning, she began to walk faster again. Something was definitely up. Danny was poised at the entrance to the barn and before Chloe could call out to her, there was the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

Ducking out of instinct, Chloe continued to rush forward and watched in horror as Danny flew backwards and fell to the ground. Another shot, closer than the first, and the ground near her feet erupted as a chunk of earth was scooped out.

Someone was shooting at her.

Gasping in shock, Chloe threw herself behind a tractor that was already beginning to rust. A bullet ricocheted off it as her face met the ground and she scrambled forward on her hands and knees. She could see Danny’s feet just inside the barn. They were moving.

Closing her eyes in an effort to hold back the tears, Chloe took a deep, shuddering breath. “Get a grip, Chlo,” she muttered. She could hear Grace whimpering, and it spurred her into action. Eyes flashing open, Chloe gauged the distance from the edge of the oversized farm equipment to the barn door. It wasn’t far. Getting her feet under her, she crept ahead and readied herself.

“One…two…” as she whispered three, Chloe launched herself at the opening. She landed hard on her hands and knees next to Danny, as another bullet harmlessly hit the side of the building.

There was so much blood that at first that was all Chloe could focus on. “Oh, God,” she muttered, reaching for Danny. “Please…please be okay.”

Moaning, Danny had both of her hands on her head, partially covering her face. Blood oozed between the fingers of her right hand, and it had pooled in the dirt under her. She lifted her right hand in response to Chloe’s words and waved her off while struggling to sit up. “Rifles,” she was whispering. “Get the rifles, Chloe.”

Chloe blinked, and rocked back on her heels. Danny was talking. She was talking, so that meant she wasn’t going to die, right? Wait. The rifles. She was right. Someone was shooting at them, and they needed to shoot back.

Staggering to her feet, Chloe looked around the gloomy barn, her thoughts hazy. The rifles should be by the door. The doors! Spinning back, she sidestepped the opening. Leaning into one half of the sliding doors, she pushed against it with all of her strength. The heavy structure shuddered in its tracks before sliding into place, effectively hiding them both.

Taking several slow, measured breaths, Chloe’s head began to clear and she moved with more purpose. There were two rifles stored on the wall in a gun rack near the main entrance. She went to it, lifting down first one and then the other Winchester. They were both loaded and there was a box of .30-30 ammunition sitting on the top of the rack. She grabbed the box and then turned back to Danny.

Grace was all over her, licking at her hands and trying desperately to get into Danny’s lap. “I’m okay, Grace,” she said weakly. Wrapping her right arm around the dog’s shoulders, she pulled the retriever close and stared up at Chloe. “I think it’s just my ear.”

Chloe found that hard to believe, but wasn’t about to insist that Danny remove her hand from the wound. She was conscious and talking so that was good enough for the moment. “Did you see who it was?”

Danny coughed once and then closed her eyes briefly before giving her head a small shake. When she spoke again, her words were clearer. “No, but whoever shot me wasn’t the same person I saw, so there’s at least two of them.”

Chloe nodded in agreement. “Yeah, two different people were shooting.”

“There are probably more.” Danny tried to stand, disrupting Grace from her lap. She made it as far as her knees and then stopped, blinking furiously as more blood dripped from where her hand was clasped. She struggled out of her sweatshirt and balled it up against her head to staunch the flow.

Chloe rushed to help her, but Danny waived her off again and sat back down. “Give me one of the rifles, then go and see if you can spot anyone. Here,” she added, reaching awkwardly for the radio at her waist. “See if you can get through.”

After giving Danny a rifle, she cautiously peered around the door she’d pulled across, being careful to avoid the rest of the open space. Without exposing herself, she couldn’t really see much. Frustrated, she tried the radio. “Hello. This is Chloe at the Miller Ranch. Someone is shooting at us. Can anyone hear me?” After a few seconds of silence, there were several clicks and only static. “Great.”

“Here,” Danny was reaching for her, so Chloe went and gave the radio back to her. “Go and look out the other end,” she instructed, pointing at Chloe. “But be careful. It’s got to be the desperados. They must have used the Miner’s Trail.”

Chloe didn’t think she could feel any worse, but the suggestion that they were being attacked by a group of homicidal outlaws ratcheted up the fear factor. “Crissy!” she gasped, horrified she’d left her friend alone. And what would happen when Sandy, Sam, and Ethan walked into the attack unknowingly? Motivated by the need to protect her friends, Chloe ran to the other side of the barn, and its regular-sized door. It was already standing partway open, so she sidled carefully into the space and peered out.

She could see part of the hayfield from there, though Crissy was at the lower end and out of view. Thankfully, Chloe didn’t spot anyone else there, but there were two riders on horseback between it and the barn. They were rough, dangerous-looking men, both armed with rifles. One was poised almost directly in front of Chloe, between her and the farmhouse, while the other was to her right, in the direction of the Miner’s Trail and upper fields. A third man, on foot, walked between them and it looked like he held a pistol.

They were being surrounded.

Anger suddenly surged and mixed with Chloe’s fear, and the extra adrenaline rush nearly took her breath away. If the men managed to surround them, and there were as many outlaws as Tom suspected, she and Danny were dead. Or worse.

Chloe moved without hesitation, not allowing herself time to think through her actions. Otherwise, she might chicken out. Dropping to a knee, she engaged the lever-action and then brought the butt of the rifle snug against her shoulder, just like Bishop had taught her.

The man on horseback was less than fifty feet away and a perfect target. She thought of Danny, bleeding on the ground behind her and what the men would do if they got inside the barn. Chloe pulled the trigger.

Chapter 4

TOM

Mercy, Montana

Another shot. There was no question anymore that they came from the ranch.

Tom’s chest tightened more at each report, until it was difficult to draw a breath. They were too late. The outlaws were attacking his family and it was his fault they were left unprotected.

“Tom! We can’t keep up,” Bishop shouted as the rest of the riders fell farther behind him. “And your horse is about to drop.”

Lilly’s steps faltered and she barely caught herself before pressing on. She was frothing at the mouth, sides heaving. Tom knew Bishop was right. The mare would drop dead before stopping. He’d been pushing her beyond any rational limits the whole night, only resting a handful of times. They were so close.

“Whoa,” Tom called to her as he straightened in the saddle. “It’s okay, Lilly. Take it easy, now.” He studied the road ahead as she slowed to a trot, estimating they had another three miles to go. He could run on foot the rest of the way if he had to, even though he wasn’t much better off than the horse.

Tom had been awake for nearly thirty hours and operating off sheer determination for most of the night. When they were unable to raise anyone on the radio as they neared Mercy, their concern worsened. It could have been from the approaching storm, but it seemed unlikely…and calculated. If the military was involved in some sort of plot to take over the town, destroying the repeater would have been a smart move.

The week before, it had taken Tom’s group a little over a day to travel from the outlaw’s camp to the ranch. However, they were at the tail end of a long trip and also stopped when it got dark. He knew that if the desperados were motivated enough, it was possible they’d reach the farm first. In spite of that, Tom hadn’t lost hope until the first shots echoed through the valley.

They’d just reached town and were barreling down Main Street. Although it was early, there were plenty of people around and they were able to recruit a couple of them, including Chief Martinez and the deputy left on duty.

The fire chief galloped up next to Tom, his horse fresh and full of energy. “You can take my mount,” he offered. “We’ll be close behind you.”

Lilly reluctantly came to a stop at Tom’s insistence, and he had no doubt the horse knew something important was happening. She snorted at him and tossed her head as he dismounted. “It’s just for a couple miles,” he promised her while resting a hand briefly on her nose.

“Bishop told us it was the military who sent these guys on the trail to your farm,” Fire Chief Martinez said, scowling. “Now they’re using criminals to do their dirty work?”

Tom hesitated with his foot in a stirrup of Martinez’s horse. He’d had a lot of time to think about all the different scenarios during the long hours of the night. None of it made much sense and was a disturbing turn of events. “Dillinger is a calculated man,” Tom explained, swinging up onto the gelding’s back. “So I don’t see this as a desperate move, or because he didn’t have enough of his own men.”

He pulled the horse’s head around to aim him back up the street as Bishop and the other riders caught up. Tom wasn’t about to sit around and chat, so he spurred the horse into action before finishing the conversation. He’d already come to the conclusion that the ordered raid was likely a means to an end that involved less risk for Dillinger if it wasn’t successful.

Tom’s anger flared again and fresh rage made his head pound. The corporal wanted Mercy and this was a way to weaken them, but it was more than that. Dillinger also wanted revenge for what happened at the FEMA camp and Tom was his target. It was personal.

Another shot jerked him from his thoughts and Tom was about to find out how fast the horse could go when someone ran out into the road from the trees to the west.

“Help!” Chloe screamed, holding her arm up and waving it frantically at the approaching riders. Her other hand was weighed down by a rifle.

Tom’s breath caught when he recognized the girl, and the first thing he noticed was the blood on her hands and face. “Chloe!” he shouted back, reining his horse in only feet away from her.

“They’re there,” she gulped, sucking in air and trying desperately to form more words. “The outlaws. At…the farm.”

“We know,” Bishop said as he jumped down next to her. Carefully, he took the weapon and put an arm around her shoulders. Tom recognized that she was in shock, but they didn’t have time to be gentle with her.

“How many are there?” Tom demanded, ignoring the look Bishop gave him. “How did you get away, and whose blood is that?”

“Tom!” Bishop said, his voice rising. “One question at a time, or she isn’t going to be able to tell us anything.” Handing the rifle off to Sheriff Waters, he took Chloe by the shoulders and leaned forward to look her in the eyes. “Take a breath, Chloe. You’re safe now. We need to know what’s going on up there so we can help.”

“I shot someone,” she said, her eyes widening. Chloe glanced over at the sheriff, as if worried he’d arrest her. “I think I might have killed him.”

“You did what you had to,” Bishop reassured her.

Tom glanced anxiously back up the road, unsettled by the lack of gunfire. It could mean that there wasn’t anyone left to shoot at. They needed to keep moving.

“I did!” Chloe replied, refocusing on Bishop. “I had to. They shot Danny and were surrounding the barn. I tried to stop them.”

Tom’s throat tightened and he barely restrained himself from getting off the horse and shaking the girl for more answers. “Danny’s been shot? Where’s Ethan and Mom?”

“Her ear,” Chloe muttered, staring blankly at Tom and sounding dazed again. “She said it was just her ear, but it was bleeding so much. I saw Ethan and Sam,” she rushed to add, like she suddenly remembered something important. “They came up behind the other guys and started shooting at them, so they backed off. That was when I ran. Danny made me. She said I had to go for help. You need to help them. Hurry!”

“Give her Lilly,” Tom barked at Martinez. “Go to Patty’s, Chloe. You’ll be safe there. Tell Patty and Caleb what’s happening.”

Tom didn’t wait for confirmation that his orders were being followed. Reaching out to where Lilly stood, he yanked his rifle from the scabbard as his horse reacted to his kick and leapt forward. A half-mile from where their long, private drive veered into the woods, he pulled up and headed for an unmarked trail. Looking back, he saw that Bishop and Waters were on his heels and was reassured by their shared expression. They were two men he wanted by his side when heading into battle, and he knew they were committed to protecting the same people he loved.

The implications behind the attack extended far beyond the ranch. If they didn’t stop them here, it would be seen as a sign of weakness, and the town of Mercy would be even more vulnerable.

They had to make a stand, and it was his responsibility as both the owner of the ranch and now the mayor to send a strong message to Dillinger. Miller Ranch wouldn’t be overrun like Duke’s, and the town of Mercy was not going to become his next refugee camp.

Tree branches slapped at Tom’s face and his hat was blown off his head as the storm seemed to let out one final, furious breath before unleashing the rain. Amidst a crashing volley of thunder and the sudden curtain of rain, three more rapid shots underscored it all, causing Tom to smile. He knew he must have looked maniacal as he crashed through the woods, weapon raised, but he didn’t care. The gunfire meant there was still a fight to be won, and they were about to join it.

Chapter 5

JAMES

Master Sergeant, US Marines, 1st Force Reconnaissance

Trek Thru Trouble Office, Central Montana

Jay dropped his pack onto the floor of the waiting area in the Trek Thru Trouble office, and scowled at James. “This doesn’t smell right.”

James withheld comment on his friend’s observation and instead kicked at his gear. “Just make sure the team’s ready to move in a half-hour. We’ll be rendezvousing with the helo and pushing our luck on how far she’ll take us.”

Gunnery Sergeant Jay Terrell smacked his lips before standing at attention. “Yes, sir, Sarge.” As James turned to go, his friend grabbed ahold of his arm to stop him. “At least find out what’s going on here. Because we both know it’s not all about redeeming lost souls.”

Senator Jenson walked in through the front door and paused when she saw the two men. “Is there a problem?”

She was good at reading people, James acknowledged. He had to give her that. “No, Senator,” he lied. “Just finalizing our plans. We’ll be underway in thirty minutes.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about leaving Nathan here,” she said, studying James. “I’d rather keep him with us.”

James tried to maintain a neutral expression, but it was hard for him not to react. The woman might have a knack for picking up on things, though he kept having to explain simple logistics to her. “Hawk’s injury will heal, but if he comes with us now, he’ll slow us down and become a liability.” When the senator continued to stare at him without comment, James proceeded with what he thought was only obvious. “The helo is already on fumes, so we’ll be lucky to make it halfway to Mercy. That means we’ll be walking for upwards of two days, which Hawk is clearly unable to do. That’s why he has to stay here.”

“I understand all of that,” Senator Jenson said slowly. Why she was irritated with him, James hadn’t a clue. “I thought soldiers had a code of honor about never leaving a man behind. I don’t feel right abandoning him here.”

James rolled his eyes and huffed once, no longer caring about hurting her feelings. “We aren’t in the middle of a battle and he’s not being deserted. I’m not about to bring those two kids with us and we can’t leave them here alone. We need Hicks, so Hawk offered to stay here. It’s safe, Senator, and it’s better for everyone.”

“Oh.” Senator Jenson crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. “Well, why didn’t Lucas just tell me that in the first place?”

Now it all made sense. “Sergeant O’Grady isn’t known for being the best at communicating.” James glared at Lucas as he stepped in behind the senator and gave them all an innocent look.

“What’d I do now?” he asked.

James turned his back on the ensuing conversation between the two men, which was sure to be full of insults and crude jokes. He almost felt bad for leaving the senator with them. Almost.

Leaving the front lobby, he traveled down a short hall with a couple of offices opening off of it, and into a larger, central room. It was set up like a locker room, with bench seating and rows of cabinets for storing gear. The door on the opposite side led to a kitchen and communal eating area, and beyond that were a couple of dorm rooms. It was an impressive setup. According to the rushed tour Hicks gave them the night before, it was designed to house all of the guides throughout the summer. It also served as a layover point for the kids before they left on their hikes, which sometimes lasted for several days.

James could care less about the hiking company. He needed to know what his father was involved in, and he was done playing games with the captain. Or rather, Hicks, as he was intent on calling himself.

They’d spent the night on rotating shifts to patrol the area between the building and the helo to watch for any movement. James had spent the first half of the evening staring into the dark woods. Then he crashed for a few hours in the dorm, knowing he wouldn’t be any good without some sleep. Hicks had obviously gone out of his way to avoid him since daybreak and James was about to call the man out in front of everyone. He was getting to the point where he wasn’t worried about whether information was top secret or not. They’d moved well beyond that formality.

James stomped loudly through the dorms. Ignoring the two teen boys sitting on their bunks, he opened the door into the counselors’ sleeping quarters without knocking. Hicks looked up as he entered and didn’t seem surprised. James slammed the door behind him.

The captain pointed at the door and scowled. “The theatrics really aren’t necessary, Sergeant. I know you have questions. I was hoping to make contact with your father this morning so I could get clearance to—”

“Screw clearance!” James shouted, taking another step into the room. “I know you’ve been holed up in here for a while, Hicks, so I’ll cut you some slack. But it’s time for a reality check. My whole unit is AWOL after disobeying orders from a Four-star General who is currently in charge of what remains of our country. I’ve got a kidnapped US Senator in my possession, and I need your help to locate my father, who somehow has ties to a geneticist and this place,” James spat, lifting his arms and gesturing to the room around him. “Now, are you going to tell me what it is, or do I have to tear this place apart? Because I will, starting with you.”

Hicks came out from behind the desk he’d been standing at and leaned casually against the front, crossing his arms. His demeanor was calm, but James recognized the look in his eyes, the way he positioned his hips, and how he placed his feet. He might have appeared relaxed to a casual observer, but James knew he was ready to react if necessary. The man had guts. Before he could test his true grit, he noticed a radio sat on the desk, and the comment Hicks made sunk in. “Wait a minute. You’ve been in contact with my dad?”

Hicks smiled. “Finally, a sign of intelligence.”

“Can we skip the normal insults and posturing to find out whose is bigger, and cut to the chase?” James demanded.

“I’ve been making regular contact with him for a week.” The captain leaned over and grabbed at some papers. “We determined it was best for me to stay here at The Farm, and for him to stay hidden in Mercy. While he made it onto the military’s radar, our cover here doesn’t appear to be blown. The identities we use at Trek Thru Trouble are buried as deep as possible, with no way to make a connection. He never should have told you about it.”

“It’s a good thing he did,” James retorted. “And how are you getting your current information?” James asked, his confusion only deepening.

“I got the ham radio operating a couple of days after the gamma-ray burst,” Hicks explained. “One nice thing about the radio was that at least during the initial confusion I was able to garner some valuable information without having to identify myself. I have multiple contacts within the military,” he offered, without further explanation.

“You call this place The Farm?”

“It’ll make sense soon,” Hicks said. Opening a drawer, he took out what looked like a digital keycard.

“You said you haven’t had contact with my dad in two days.” James watched as the other man moved to a second door he hadn’t paid any attention to. Opening it, Hicks looked back and gestured for him to follow.

“That’s right. He failed to make our prearranged check-ins and I’ve been scanning hourly since the first miss. I caught some chatter from Malmstrom, though, and it sounds like there might be a move coming soon against Mercy.”

James followed him into what looked like an anteroom of a containment facility. It was only about ten square feet and had a bench with hooks above it on which lab coats hung. “What sort of move?”

Hicks shrugged. “Unknown. It’s hard to get much detail with Q-code when you’re scanning and the reception already sucks. Except you know as well as I do that any coordinated military action involving a community is bad news right now, in our current state.” He held the card up to a scanner secured to the wall on the side of the door and James was surprised when he heard a beep and a green light flashed above them.

“You’ve got power?”

Hicks looked back at him with a crooked smile. “The Farm does.”

James leaned back and took ahold of the outer door, pushing it back and forth slightly. It was much heavier than it should have been. He stooped and examined the door frame, then rapped his knuckles against the inner walls. “Metal. This is EMP hardened?”

“Among other things.” Hicks reached beyond the door and a light turned on, illuminating a flight of stairs. He began the descent and then stopped on the fourth step to see if James was following. “You coming? If you want answers, you’ll find them down here.”

“My last few experiences with secret underground bunkers haven’t gone all that great,” James replied, following anyway.

It was a deep stairwell, with two turns and platforms before ending at another anteroom similar to the one over forty feet above them. The space was too small for his liking. James grew more agitated when Hicks stopped in front of the next doorway and stepped aside without opening it.

“Come on,” he urged, trying hard not to sound anxious. “I thought you didn’t like theatrics.”

Hicks smiled again and pointed to a strange-looking contraption on the wall. The captain was enjoying the odd tour way too much. “Breathe into that.”

“What?” James stared at the square metallic device. It had something resembling a circular speaker with a two-inch diameter on the front of it, and that was all.

“There’s a very short list of people who have access to The Farm, Sergeant,” Hicks said. “Breathe into it if you want to see what’s inside.”

Feeling silly, James bent over and blew onto the speaker. For a couple of seconds, nothing happened. Then, there was a deep, mechanical rumbling and the door slowly slid back into the wall. Long banks of fluorescent lights began to wink to life beyond the entrance as James looked over at Hicks. He frowned. “That BS traffic stop outside the base a few months ago that ended in a breathalyzer?”

Hicks shrugged again. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“I knew that felt like a setup,” James muttered as he stepped into what could best be described as an endless chamber of filing cabinets. Fancy filing cabinets. The room was so vast that he couldn’t tell how far it extended in any direction. It was massive. “I don’t get it. What is all of this?”

“A seed vault,” Hicks said without any preamble. “A very advanced, state-of-the-art, never-before-created seed vault.”

James wandered about twenty feet inside the vault and stared at his surroundings, utterly confused. If he’d been forced to make a list of all the potential types of covert projects he thought his dad was involved in, he would have never, never suggested a seed vault. “I don’t get it.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Hicks said without any surprise or contempt. “I’ll make this very simple. Have you ever heard of the doomsday vault?”

James turned around to face Hicks. “I think so. It’s in another country, though. Right?”

Hicks nodded. “Yes, and it’s nothing compared to what we’ve got down here.” When James continued to stare blankly at him, he continued. “About five years ago your father was approached and made part of a very small, select design team. It involved Dr. Pamela Watson because she is a leading plant and animal geneticist. This vault,” Hicks said with enthusiasm while waving a hand, “is so much more than seed storage. It represents mankind’s greatest chance of surviving the years to come.”

James tried to focus on the implications behind what was being divulged and found he was having a hard time, considering the scope of everything else that had and was still unfolding. Genetically modified seeds and animals. “Modified for what?”

“To withstand an unstable environment.” Hicks turned back to the door, the tour apparently over. “Essentially, what we’ll be facing once the atmosphere has settled into its new norm. Different pH levels, less water, altered temperatures.”

“And the general knows about this place and is willing to lie and kill people to find it?” James wasn’t convinced.

Hicks took a deep breath as he stood in the doorway. “Yes. Because he knows that even if he manages to regain control of the people, none of it will matter if he can’t feed them a year from now. We’re talking about extinction,” the captain implored, his voice rising. “There are three of these vaults, and whoever ends up controlling them will wield more power than anyone else throughout history. The power to decide who lives and dies, and how it will all happen.”

The impact of the truth behind those words hit James hard enough to steal his breath. He gasped once before he could swallow, and tried to regain his composure. It always came down to power. Hicks was right that at the dawn of their new existence, it was all going to be reduced to land, food, and the ability to grow it.

“We need to go.” Hicks was no longer smiling and he had a new, nervous energy about him. “I was hoping your dad would have checked in this morning and my concern proved unfounded. I’m afraid we made a mistake not leaving last night.”

“The bird can get us farther in a half-hour of flight than we could have walked all night in the dark,” James countered. “And I hope your contacts are still good, because I’ve got a message for you to send before we leave.” He shoved past the captain and began up the stairs two steps at a time, feeling a new sense of urgency. The underlying feeling of a continuing synchronicity compelled him to act without giving it as much thought as he normally would. In that moment, all that mattered was that they needed to find his dad before anyone else did. They had to get to Mercy.

Chapter 6

ETHAN

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

“I lost him!” Ethan muttered frantically as he scrambled forward on his stomach to the next tree, struggling to see the far side of the barn. He had joined the fight late and was still trying to get into a good position so he could help Sam and Sandy.

He’d heard the first gunshots when he was over a mile up the fence line. By the time he was within view of the scene playing out, Chloe was running away toward the road, with only the barn in between her and ten armed men. Calling them men was an exaggeration. They reminded Ethan of Decker and Billy, with the same lack of concern for hygiene and an air of disregard for life…and sanity.

Some of them were laughing. Laughing while taking potshots at the barn, where he assumed Danny was returning fire in a vain attempt to keep them away. Sam and Sandy were located directly west of the barn, and it was only because of them that the outlaws hadn’t advanced any further.

It had to be the outlaws, because who else would be attacking them? Ethan questioned a lot of things as he watched two men on foot less than thirty feet below him attempt to sneak through the trees. Were they after the cattle? If so, there were ways they could have done it without any confrontation. That led him to believe they were either in a rush, or wanted the fight. Maybe it was both.

Sandy finally noticed the two creeping her way and put a slug into a trunk right next to one of their heads. Ethan couldn’t help but smile as he watched them scatter. That guy probably needed a change of shorts.

A snapping branch behind him replaced the smile with a startled gasp and Ethan flipped onto his back to see yet another man successfully getting past him. Pressing his lips into a thin line, he chastised himself for not paying more attention, and allowing himself to get distracted. If Ethan let the guy go, he’d work his way up behind Sam and Sandy and the two would be caught in a crossfire. Danny would be left on her own, and the other guy he’d already lost sight of was probably on the far side of the barn by then. They were outnumbered and about to lose their only advantage. He couldn’t let that happen.

Up until that point, Ethan had managed to land a few accurately placed shots to effectively deter the desperados. He knew the gunfire would be heard throughout the valley and that help would be coming whether Chloe reached anyone or not. He’d been hoping they could hold them off until support arrived, except their best gunmen were all on a wild goose chase.

Ethan grimaced at the irony as he pushed himself cautiously up onto his knees, never taking his eyes off his prey. The guy looked to be in his late twenties, though it was hard to tell for sure; he was so dirty. He was holding a pistol of some sort and was fervently licking his lips due to either nerves or excitement.

The Winchester was unnaturally heavy in his hands and Ethan willed his arms to stay steady as he stood and aimed the weapon. “You’re gonna want to stop right there and drop that gun.” His voice was surprisingly even and had the desired effect.

Freezing, the man’s tongue remained sticking out as he slowly pivoted to face Ethan. Then, his eyes widened and his upper lip curled into a hideous snarl. He looked more like a rabid dog than anything human, and he began making a noise that was a cross between a wheeze and a grunt. Ethan realized he was laughing.

“Big mistake, kid,” he sneered.

The lip, the way he called him kid, the smell of his rank body, all reminded Ethan of Decker. When he saw the man’s forearm flex in preparation to fire, he didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger first.

They were close enough that it would have been nearly impossible for Ethan to miss. And he didn’t. The outlaw flew back with a grunt, the gun falling harmlessly from his hand to land in the soft pine needles. Ethan stood staring at it for a moment, confused.

The woods around him receded, to be replaced with first the nightmarish scene of bodies and burning tires in downtown Pocatello when Billy killed all those people, and then on the road North of Virginia, Idaho. It was when he’d watched Decker die. Ethan experienced the same, hollowed out feeling he’d had that day as his hearing returned and the trees came back into focus.

He was still staring at the gun, and Ethan shifted his view to take in the feet of the man he’d surely killed. They weren’t moving. He wasn’t moving. Another volley of shots forced him back to reality and he took a ragged breath, his lungs feeling as if they were being squeezed.

Bark erupted from the tree trunk near his head as a bullet ripped into it, and Ethan flinched when the splinters stung his cheek and forehead. Instinct took over, saving his life, as he dropped to his stomach and barely avoided a second shot close behind the first.

There were too many of them. Pulling the Winchester out from under his body, Ethan tried to find something to aim at, but the foliage was too dense. Instead, he fired randomly into the sky, hoping it would at least give his attackers something to think about. If he could just buy some more time—

Shouts came from the direction of the road. A literal war cry, followed by the sounds of several horses stomping into the back pasture amid a fresh round of firepower.

“Tom!” Grandma Miller screamed, her voice full of both terror and pride.

Dad?

Ethan dared to poke his head high enough to take in the scene playing out below where he was concealed. Sure enough, more than a dozen new riders filled the space around the barn and farmhouse. It was obvious they were eager to fight, as they were all armed and already shooting.

Bishop was off his horse and taking a knee. Ethan watched as he gunned down a man approaching the doors of the barn, and then seamlessly pivoted to shoot a second who was running at him.

Horrified but also enthralled, Ethan knew he had to help and was in the best position to prevent anyone from circling around on them, or getting away on the Miner’s Trail. Feeling somewhat numb, he fought through the weakness in his legs to make his way down the treed hillside, hoping Tango would remain where he’d secured him to a fencepost. The gelding would be spooked by the shots and could break free if he tried hard enough.

Ethan emerged at the far end of the field behind the barn. The same one they’d ridden into only a week ago, to be reunited with his grandma. A man lay moaning, begging for help, but he ignored him. Ethan could tell by the clothing that it was one of the outlaws, and he wasn’t going to stop and risk anything for him. Not then, although he figured the man’s wails would find their way into a fresh round of nightmares.

The storm had let up momentarily but was once again hammering them with rain and wind, making the farm look like a surreal battlefield from the Middle Ages. Men screamed, a woman shouted, followed by another shot and more screams. Ethan’s nose tickled with the acrid smell of gunpowder as it mixed unnaturally with the fresh, earthy smell of a rainstorm.

Wiping at his face, he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. It was more difficult through the downpour to tell who was who, although most of the outlaws were on foot. There couldn’t be that many left. He knew at least six of the ten were down, and probably more by then.

A blur of movement from near the hayfield drew his attention, and Ethan swung his rifle up to track a lone man running toward him. It wasn’t anyone he recognized, though it was hard to be sure. Hail mixed in with the rain and lightning strobed around him. As it became obvious the guy was heading for the trail, Ethan aimed low. Steeling himself, he took the shot and watched as the runner tumbled, hard, before writhing on the ground, grasping his leg.

“Ethan!”

His head snapped around, and Ethan saw his dad running toward him. He was holding a rifle, his head was bare and wet, and he’d never looked more dangerous. “I’m okay!” Ethan called out as he brought a hand to his face and wiped away the blood oozing from where the splintered wood had pierced his skin. The rain would wash away the rest.

Tom slowed, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he closed the rest of the distance. “Thank God you’re okay,” he said, taking ahold of Ethan’s arm and giving it a squeeze. “I was afraid I’d lost you all.”

“Chloe and Danny?” Ethan asked, concerned by his dad’s comment.

“Chloe’s fine,” Tom said, glancing back over his shoulder and carefully surveying the edge of the field while he spoke, his dripping hair whipped around by the wind. “Danny’s shot, but I think she’ll be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan said, unsure why he felt a need to apologize. “I was up checking the line when they got here. I should have—”

“I’m glad you weren’t here,” Tom said, cutting him off. His hand suddenly tightened on Ethan’s arm and pulled him backward, almost off his feet.

Ethan saw him then, another man making a break from the trees, trying desperately to flee to the trail. When his dad didn’t react, he began to lift his Winchester.

“No,” Tom said, putting his other hand on the rifle and pushing it down. “It’s okay. Let him run all the way back and tell Dillinger how he failed.”

The storm abruptly retreated again, offering a disturbingly clear view of the battle zone. Ethan looked around at the bodies, the injured, and several people—friends, who were walking towards them, blood evident on several of them. He met his dad’s gaze and raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Did he fail?”

Chapter 7

PATTY

Mercy Clinic, Mercy, Montana

To say that their resources were overwhelmed would have been a gross understatement.

Patty paused in her task to push back some stray hair, using the edge of her gloved hand since the fingers were covered in blood. She’d hoped to never see the clinic so full of patients again, especially not all at once. The injuries ranged from a twisted ankle suffered while jumping off a horse, to a horrendous gunshot to the stomach. That man had finally succumbed to the wound after screaming for three hours straight even though Melissa gave him some morphine.

Fortunately, the only fatality was one of the outlaws. By some miracle, Mercy hadn’t lost any of their own. Although they had suffered multiple casualties.

“The last of the…um, bodies have been stored in the garage,” Sheriff Waters said as he approached her and Tom. She wasn’t certain if he was giving the update to her or the new mayor, and she supposed it didn’t really matter.

Tom nodded in response, not taking his eyes off of Danny, who was currently having part of her ear stitched back on to her head by Dr. Olsen. “How many in total?” he asked.

“Eight,” Bishop answered. He glanced first at Patty and then over at the sheriff. “Eight dead, and that includes the guy who died here.”

“Where are the other two?” Tom demanded; his voice gruff. “We need to talk to them. Now.”

“One of them is sedated,” Melissa said, looking up briefly to take another threaded needle from Patty. “He might not make it without some advanced care and possible surgery. The other guy’s fine. The one Ethan intentionally clipped in the leg.” She paused then and narrowed her eyes at Bishop. “Was it really necessary to kill so many of them?”

Patty flinched at the look Tom directed toward the doctor, and was thankful he had enough control to not respond. Instead, Danny was the one who reached up and grasped Melissa’s wrist. “I know it must look like a bloodbath,” she whispered, clearly in a lot of pain. “But we were the ones who were attacked. They didn’t leave us much choice.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Melissa sighed, closing her eyes. “I’m just so tired of death.”

“We all are,” Tom said stoically. “That doesn’t make it go away, and I’m afraid this is only the beginning. We’re going to have to be ready to fight for our town if we want to keep it.”

Sandy was on the next bed over, and she sat up then, staring at her son. “What does that mean, Tom?”

Patty eyed the bandage wrapped around Sandy’s upper left arm, and noticed it was bleeding through. She really needed stitches, but the stubborn woman insisted the bullet graze was just a “scratch” and refused care other than the dressing and a sling.

Bishop sat down next to her and put an arm around her good shoulder. “While we obviously didn’t find the outlaws waiting for us at the road, we did find a messenger.”

“What sort of messenger?” Sam asked. He was hovering at the foot of Danny’s bed with Grace. The retriever was a quivering, whimpering mess and had been since Patty first saw her come into the clinic. She was such a sweet dog, and Patty sincerely hoped the trauma Grace experienced wouldn’t leave a permanent mark.

“Dillinger was behind this,” Tom said bluntly.

Danny gasped and started to turn her head in response. Thankfully, Melissa had quick reflexes, and jerked the needle back in time. “Danny, you have to stay still!” the doctor scolded, scowling at Tom. “Maybe you guys can wait to have this conversation until later?”

“No,” Danny insisted. “I won’t move. We’ve already wasted too much time this afternoon, if the military is involved. We need to know what’s going on. Everyone does.”

“We can call for a meeting,” Patty suggested. “I don’t think it’ll be possible to do it tonight, but we can arrange to get everyone together first thing in the morning.”

“Good idea,” Sheriff Waters agreed. “Meanwhile, I’ve already added four more guards to either end of town, and two scouts to patrol several miles both north and south.”

“Caleb went to check the repeater,” Bishop added. “The storm passed over an hour ago and the radios still aren’t working at any distance. I suspect it was taken out intentionally.”

“Because?” Sam led, looking for further explanation.

“That kid from Bishop’s hiking group who caused trouble at the farm before,” Tom said, looking at Sam. “We caught him carrying a response to Dillinger, accepting orders to take the cattle.”

“They’ve already taken over the Duke Ranch,” Bishop added.

Patty looked at the man she’d come to trust with her life over the past few weeks. Something about him had changed. He’d always seemed to be holding back, and now it was like his whole personality was out on the table and she wasn’t sure she liked it. It was like he was detached and more methodical. Sure, he was showing some concern and affection toward Sandy, but everything about him was…colder. More sterile. “How do you know that?” she asked, closely gauging his reaction.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” Tom interrupted, puzzling Patty even further.

“What does matter is that we’re clearly next on the agenda,” Bishop said. “Why he would use those outlaws instead of his men is still a puzzle—”

“Because they don’t have any rules,” Ethan spoke over him as he walked up. “I got a chance to know the corporal and I guarantee you he probably didn’t have orders to do this, so he found another way. His men will come in through the front door while his dogs do the dirty work.”

Patty was shocked by Ethan’s words. Not only because it sounded accurate, but that the teen would be astute enough to put it together in the midst of what was going on. His face, which had finally been almost clear of bruises, was once again marred. Several deep scratches and puncture wounds peppered his right check and forehead and his eye was already swelling.

“He’s right,” Tom agreed. “Dillinger isn’t going to stop.”

“How are we going to keep the military out of Mercy?” Sam asked, kneeling down to comfort Grace. “We saw what they did in Monida.”

“We’ll discuss our options tomorrow at the meeting,” Tom said, looking at Patty. “You’re right. The town leaders and council need to be a part of this discussion, as well as the solution.”

Patty smiled at Tom in a silent acknowledgement, relieved he grasped the bigger picture. It wouldn’t matter if a group of them decided to take action if the town wasn’t behind them. Avoiding an invasion would require everyone in Mercy if they were to have any hope at all.

“There,” Melissa announced, applying a final dressing to Danny’s head. “I’m afraid your ear is going to be disfigured. It didn’t seem to be affecting your hearing, so I think it should heal up pretty good. Of course, I don’t have any way of scanning your head, so we can’t be sure the bullet didn’t crack your skull. There’s no obvious fractures or chips that I saw before sewing it up.”

“Um, okay…too much information,” Sam balked, looking pale. He released Grace and she was immediately in Danny’s lap before she’d even had a chance to position herself properly in the bed.

“Thanks, Melissa,” Danny said while fending off kisses from Grace. “I’m not too concerned about my future modeling potential.”

Patty was impressed, again, with the woman’s resilience. Danny was most definitely a fighter and she was glad to have her in Mercy. Though it was too bad she’d been injured. They could really use her help patching up the rest of their patients, which reminded Patty that she hadn’t seen Russell anywhere. She assumed the priest would have come immediately and offered assistance upon hearing of the attack.

“Chloe,” she called out when she saw the teen approaching. “Do me a favor and go find Father Rogers. He should be at the church. Tell him I sent for him. We really need him here.” Chloe glanced over at Ethan, her face falling.

“I’ll go with you,” Ethan volunteered. “I’m not much good here, anyway.”

Chloe smiled and Patty was relieved to see it. She’d been worried about her since the girl arrived on her doorstep, bloody and traumatized. Patty knew she was in shock and it had taken over an hour before Chloe could even stop shaking. Being around all the chaos in the clinic really wasn’t the best place for her, so the errand would accomplish two things.

“I’ll meet you back here, Dad,” Ethan said to Tom before the two walked away.

“Let’s go talk with the leg-guy,” Bishop said, standing. “Maybe he has some information that’ll give us a better idea of when to expect more company.”

“He might not be that talkative,” Patty said, glancing at Melissa.

Melissa sighed again, a clear sign of how tired she was. “You all know how low my medical supplies are right now. When I was trying to treat the two…desperados, or whatever you’re calling them, I had several people object to my using any medication on them.”

“Seems reasonable,” Sheriff Waters said, shrugging. “Why waste it?”

“Well, being humane aside, they might be able to tell you more if they’re alive and not in unbearable pain,” Patty snapped. She could tell that the sheriff and probably Bishop were going to try and argue with her, but Tom shut them down.

“Give the guy some morphine, Melissa,” he instructed, while holding a hand up to placate the other men. “Unless you guys wanna buy him a few drinks, it’s probably the quickest way to get him talking.”

Patty chuckled as she backed away, leaving the group to debate the finer points of interrogation. She had to admit to being disheartened earlier in the day. First, it was the news of the attack, then the fact that Tom had led the march in the wrong direction, and finally the lack of humanity in deciding how to treat their prisoners. However, after seeing how they all looked up to Tom and followed his lead, she knew she’d made the right decision. She could have never handled the situation at the ranch, and mistakes or not, Thomas Miller was Mercy’s best chance of remaining free.

Chapter 8

CHLOE

Mercy, Montana

“It seems too quiet out here,” Ethan said as they neared the end of Main Street.

Chloe looked back at the empty farmers’ market they’d just walked through and nodded in agreement. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the streets so bare, especially in the middle of the afternoon. While it was still overcast and breezy, the storm had moved on, leaving behind some debris and large puddles. “People are spooked.”

“I don’t blame them.” Ethan ran a hand gingerly along his hairline, wincing as his fingers brushed one of the scratches. “I’m spooked, too.”

Chloe tried to ignore the heavy feeling settling into her stomach, except she’d never been very good at pretending things were okay. Because they clearly weren’t, and Ethan had been seriously off since the first time Chloe spotted him earlier with his dad. He was…evasive. Wouldn’t look her in the eye. She got that he was freaked out and everything. If anyone could understand how he was feeling, it was her, only that didn’t really matter if he wouldn’t talk to her.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” she asked, getting straight to the point.

Ethan’s step faltered slightly but he kept walking, staring straight ahead. “What do you mean, tell you what happened? You were there, Chloe. You saw it.”

“I did more than see it,” Chloe challenged. “I killed a guy before I ran away, Ethan. I’m pretty sure he was the one we listened to the whole afternoon while he died a slow and painful death.”

Ethan jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and continued to keep his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them. “Yeah. I, um…didn’t look at the first guy I shot, but I know he died.”

“I thought you just clipped someone in the leg.” Chloe stole a sideways glance and saw that he’d gone pale. He was breathing fast and his jaw was clenched so tight that he was sure to crack a couple of teeth. “Woah!” she said, taking him by the arm and forcing him to stop.

“No!” Ethan gasped, tearing his arm free and backing away. Raising his hands, he held them out like he was trying to talk someone down off a bridge. “Just…let it go. I…can’t,” he swallowed hard, his eyes wide and fearful.

Chloe recognized a panic attack when she saw one. She’d been fortunate enough not to suffer from crippling episodes herself, but she had a friend who did frequently. “Ethan,” she said gently, not moving. “You’re okay. You need to take a breath. Just breathe with me and you’ll feel better.” Slowly, she inhaled through her nose. “Like this.”

Ethan focused on her mouth and began to mimic her motions, closing his eyes after releasing two shuddering breaths and taking a third.

“That’s good.” Chloe moved closer and gripped both of his hands in hers. “You’re not alone, Ethan. We’ll get through this. In the old world, we’d be put in therapy and probably medicated. Now, we’ll just have to do the best we can, together.”

“The nightmares were just starting to go away,” he whispered, opening his eyes. The pain Chloe saw was so deep it was staggering.

“They’ll go away again,” she reassured him. “Tell ya what. Let’s make a pact that we’ll tell each other about our dreams every morning. That way, if we talk about them and acknowledge what it means and stuff, we can work through them faster.”

“How do you know that?” he asked, already visibly relaxing.

Chloe shrugged. “Because I’m smart. I read things.”

Ethan eyed her suspiciously. “You’re making it up.”

“Does it matter? Seriously, though, I read that talking about all the crap you’ve gone through, and the recurring dreams associated with it, helps your brain process the information.” Chloe gave his hands an extra squeeze before dropping one of them, and then tugged on the other to get him moving again. “And we’ve both definitely been through some crap.”

Ethan was silent for about half a block. “You were the first person I talked to about Decker and Billy and what happened with them. I did feel better afterward.”

“See?” Chloe attempted a smile and was encouraged when he returned it. “Spreading the burden out makes it easier to carry.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows at her. “Now you just sound weird.” He moved closer so that their shoulders bumped and he grew serious. “But weird in a good way.”

Chloe laughed lightly, her own intense emotions becoming more manageable. She hadn’t allowed herself to unpack the experience yet and examine it from all the different angles, the way she normally would. When that happened, she knew it’d get ugly and she was going to need someone to turn to. Bishop, Sandy…even Crissy would be totally supportive. She knew that. But…there was something about having shared the experience that made Ethan the only person she could really talk to. Like, in a way that made sense.

Chloe squeezed his hand again and drew strength from the contact. In some bizarre way, the two of them now shared a bond that was both deep and horrible.

As they passed by City Hall, she considered distracting Ethan later with a “shopping” trip to the basement. She still wanted to show him the mysterious Q-Code, especially considering the latest developments.

“I saw that Crissy was finally reunited with Trevor,” Ethan said, his voice sounding stronger as he talked about someone else.

Chloe rolled her eyes. “We’ll be lucky to get her away from him long enough to help finish the hay. Honestly, though? It might be better that way. Even though Crissy got inside the house right after the shooting started and they never saw her, she’s pretty traumatized.”

“Dad said we’ve already got volunteers to start standing guard at the ranch,” Ethan said, his face pinching up again. “Which is good, but I doubt it’s necessary. Dillinger wouldn’t bring his soldiers in on that trail, especially not after today. Bishop agrees. He thinks the corporal will come right up Main Street and make his demands.”

“What’ll happen when your dad says no?”

Ethan smiled broadly then, and Chloe wasn’t sure she liked it. “The same as the last time he tried to steal from us, only this time he’ll have more backup.”

Madeline Stokes, the church pianist and all-around busybody, interrupted their conversation by banging open the front door of the church and bustling down the steps as they approached. Chloe wouldn’t have guessed the woman could move that fast. As she turned in their direction, Madeline looked flustered and was absently pulling at her loose hair and touching her throat at the same time.

“Miss Stokes?” Ethan called to her when she kept walking without acknowledging them. “Is everything okay?”

Pausing about ten feet away, Madeline glanced over her shoulder at the church. “I, um…lit some candles. For those who lost their lives today.”

Chloe waited for more of an explanation for her odd behavior, but Madeline simply shook her head at them and walked off without another word.

“That was strange,” Chloe observed, watching her shuffle down the road.

“Miss Stokes has always been a little off,” Ethan explained. “I mean, who would want to set up a vigil for a bunch of guys that came here to kill us?”

Chloe figured Ethan was probably right, except her gut was telling her there was more to the story. She couldn’t shake the feeling as they climbed the steps and entered the large chamber. Expecting to see several candles lit, she was surprised to find the interior of the church dark, except for the filtered light coming through rows of stained glass windows.

As they approached the alter, Chloe could smell the telltale acrid odor of recently extinguished candles. A lot of them.

“Father Rogers!” Ethan called to the apparently empty nave. When there was no response, they headed for a partially open door to the side of the chancel. Ethan entered, while Chloe settled for poking her head inside. It was some sort of fancy office and there were several bookcases and ornate robes hanging up. “He isn’t here,” Ethan said to her, stating the obvious.

“Well, we tried.” Chloe quickly walked back to the center of the church, in the middle of the pews. She didn’t know why, but the place gave her the creeps. She had spent her fair share of time in churches and they usually had the opposite effect. “We’ll let Patty know he isn’t here.”

“Let’s try the apartment first,” he suggested, walking past her and toward the back, where there was another opening opposite the office.

“Apartment?” Chloe frowned. “In a church?”

“The priest almost always lived in the church way back when,” he explained with a grin. “Although, since they built the house behind this one, the apartment is usually used for Sunday school.”

Chloe looked questioningly at him as they entered a dark hallway. Two doors on the right designated them as bathrooms, while the other doors on the left were marked for age groups…probably more Sunday school classes. “You sure know a lot about this place.”

Ethan stopped in front of another door at the end of the hall and smirked. “Grandma Miller always made sure I came to church on Sundays when I was here for the weekend, and I’ve spent every Christmas break in Mercy. I might have been in a Christmas play or two.” He paused with his hand raised to knock. “I wish I could have made it to the memorial for Father White last night, but we had too much work to do.”

They both jumped back when the door abruptly jerked open. Father Rogers stood in the entrance, backlit by several burning candles. “I thought I heard talking out here.” While his voice wasn’t accusatory, it also wasn’t friendly.

“Father Rogers!” Chloe said, moving forward and in front of Ethan. “Mayor—I mean, Patty is looking for you. They need you at the clinic.”

“Chloe, right?”

Chloe nodded once, thinking it was a strange response. “Yeah. We met before at the clinic. This is Ethan, he’s—”

“You’ve got to be Tom’s son,” Russell interrupted, reaching out past Chloe to shake his hand. “Or I suppose I should say Mayor Miller, now.”

“Yes, Father,” Ethan answered hesitantly after taking the offered hand.

Father Rogers stepped back and ushered them inside. “You look just like him. Come in, I was just making some tea.”

Tea? Chloe followed Ethan into the small kitchen area. It was too hot in the room, thanks to a strong fire in the woodstove. There was a teakettle on it, and the pastor went about getting more tea cups while he continued to speak.

“I heard that the men your father went after ended up at your place.” Turning from the cupboard, Father Rogers set two cups on the table between them, not bothering to inquire if they even wanted any tea. “Tell me, how many people ended up dying today?”

“Eight,” Ethan said flatly. “No one from Mercy.”

“Hmm. I would have thought there would be more.”

Chloe frowned at the man as he poured the water. He almost sounded…disappointed. What kind of priest was he?

“I heard you’ve already suffered a rather unfortunate series of events,” Father Rogers continued, turning to Ethan and holding out one of the cups.

Ethan hesitated before taking it, staring back at the older man with a puzzled expression. “Yeah. I, uh, guess you could say that.”

“Don’t be modest,” Father Rogers countered, tsking as he sat down in one of the chairs. Chloe took the other cup when he didn’t offer it to her and remained standing.

“What?” Ethan asked, glancing over at Chloe.

“You see, Ethan, while I’m technically not a Catholic priest, people still have a need to confess their sins and that often times involves discussing the sins of others they’re with.” He took a small sip of tea and stared at Ethan over the rim of his cup. “I would imagine that after what you went through with Decker and Billy, today may have stirred up some bad emotions. Tell me, what was it like to be a part of taking a man’s life? How did it feel?”

Chloe was stunned into silence. She stared open-mouthed at Ethan as he first looked confused, and then angry. “Sam,” he muttered, before slamming the cup back down on the table.

Chloe knew Sam was rather religious and that he’d been to the church more than once already. He must be Catholic. While she couldn’t blame Sam for trying to unburden his soul or whatever, she was totally baffled by the priest’s violation in sharing it. Chloe wasn’t Catholic, but even she knew that confessions were like, the ultimate secret.

“I’ve upset you,” Father Rogers said, staring intensely at Ethan.

Setting her cup back on the table with enough force to spill the liquid, Chloe finally processed what had been said, and reacted accordingly. She’d never liked the guy, except before it was because she could tell he was being fake. This? Well, it was like the façade was gone, and she really didn’t like what was behind it.

“We need to go,” she said loudly.

“So soon?” Father Rogers grinned at her, finally looking away from Ethan.

His gaze was disturbing, and Chloe backed into Ethan as she met it and refused to turn away. There was a calculated coldness there, like a scientist with its subject instead of a sympathetic priest.

“Not soon enough,” Ethan replied, and Chloe was impressed with how controlled his voice was. “Should I tell Patty that you’re busy?”

“Oh, but I am,” Father Rogers called after them as they retreated back into the hall. “I have a much larger flock to tend to.”

Chapter 9

DANNY

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

“Thanks for getting me,” Danny said, barely loud enough to be heard over the noise of the wagon. “Except I don’t know if I agree with the decision that the wagon would be better for my head than horseback.”

Tom grinned and then pulled on the reins, slowing them down. “Sorry, there’s a lot of branches and other stuff in the road from all the wind.”

It was growing dark, and Danny was having a hard time not being fearful of every little sound and movement she saw from the woods that lined the road. For as much of a fuss she made with Melissa about not wanting to stay the night at the clinic, she was glad that Tom was with her. “It was nice of your mom to bargain my release with the doc.”

“She can pretty much talk anyone into whatever she wants,” Tom said. He glanced at Danny with a look of concern. “I hope it was the smart thing to do, though. My mom’s right that there are plenty of us to keep a close eye on you, and a nice bed, but what if you do have a concussion?”

“Honestly, Tom, even if I had a major head injury, there isn’t a thing Melissa could do about it with the equipment and meds that she has.” Danny pushed the gauze up out of her eyes again. The bulky bandage was wrapped all the way around her head and kept falling down into her face. She was okay with leaving it there for a few days, though. It was better than looking at her mangled ear. Not that she really cared about how it looked…her hair would cover most of it up. It was more the reminder that she almost had a bullet in her brain. Like, less than a half an inch away from it. She shuddered slightly and wrapped her arms around herself.

Tom must have noticed, because he scooted closer to her on the seat. Shifting both reins into his left hand, he draped his other arm over her shoulders. “I should have thought to bring a blanket.”

Danny stiffened in response to his touch before she could stop herself, and then felt horrible when she saw him react. Slowly, Tom dropped his arm back down and shifted awkwardly on the hard bench seat. “My dad told me the repeater was intentionally destroyed,” she said, trying to cover up her behavior.

Tom gave her a questioning look before nodding. “Yeah, like we suspected. There’s no doubt now this is all coordinated. I’ve got both Caleb and Bishop on their radios, trying to glean any sort of related communications.”

Glad for the distraction, Danny eagerly dove into the conversation. “Does anyone else know about the second radio?”

“We told Sheriff Waters,” Tom said, his voice growing irritated. “While I didn’t exactly lie to him about it, I left him with the impression that Bishop voluntarily told me, and that he only recently got it working.”

Danny frowned. “And the truth?” It was the first chance they’d had to talk about anything alone since he’d left the day before.

“The truth is that I caught him up in that room two days ago, and after my face got real cozy with the floor, he fessed up to fixing it a while ago. Probably more than a week.”

Danny frowned at him, and winced at the pain it caused. “Bishop put you down?”

Tom shrugged. “Guy’s got some advanced training, Danny. That’s why even though I believe him when he says he’s trying to look out for us, I know there’s a lot more he isn’t saying. And I don’t like that.”

“Well, I didn’t find much.” When he turned and looked at her in surprise, she widened her eyes at him. “What? I told you I’d go through his stuff, and I did. The papers in the radio room make it sound like he’s trying to find the kids’ parents. Then there was some other stuff I couldn’t decipher. A bunch of broken up sentences about the Duke Ranch and some military jargon. Nothing that I would consider necessarily suspicious.”

“And his room?”

“First of all, you should tell Sam to wash his socks.” Smiling at Tom, Danny noticed that he had managed to slide over to his original position on the seat, so their bodies weren’t touching anymore. She was frustrated by the conflicting emotions welling up—relief that he wasn’t pushing things and also a profound need to feel his touch. Danny knew she was at risk of shutting down again. It was so much safer…easier that way. Her voice faltered as she struggled to keep talking, horrified that she was on the verge of unexpected tears.

Tom was staring at her. “Are you okay?”

Gritting her teeth, she turned away and kept talking. “He had a picture in his bag of him and a young man. I think it might be his son. The only other thing even marginally interesting was an engraved compass. Did you know he was a colonel in the military and that his last name is Campbell?”

“Campbell?” Tom looked perplexed. “I thought it was Kingston. Pretty sure that’s what my mom said. I already knew he was in the military, except he made it sound like it was a little time in the state guard. A colonel is a high-ranking officer.”

“I suppose the compass could have belonged to someone else. Maybe it’s a family heirloom or something,” Danny suggested.

“No.” Tom sounded sure of himself. “I think it’s his, and I think there’s a lot more to the story. I’m hoping he’ll trust us enough to let us in on it. There might be a way to use his knowledge or connections to help us.”

“With Dillinger?”

Tom looked at her again, his face becoming more difficult to see in the gathering shadows. “Yeah, with Dillinger.”

They rode in silence for several minutes as the wagon wheels clambered over the road. “You can’t blame yourself for what’s happening.” Danny knew she was pushing it, but suddenly decided to get it all out on the table. Tom meant too much to her.

“Why not?” he answered quickly, and with some heat. “You do.”

Danny swallowed. She felt like such a jerk. Reaching out, she took the reins from his hands and pulled the horses to a stop. “Tom!” she shouted, when he moved like he was going to jump down from the wagon.

He froze, and slowly turned to face her. He looked defeated and her breath caught, making it impossible to talk. “I know, I did it again,” he said, grimacing. “First when I attacked and nearly killed you, then when I acted impulsively with Dillinger, which is now coming back to haunt us all, and yesterday when I ran off to chase after my own demons, leaving you defenseless.” He reached out then and gently touched the bandage on her head. “I don’t blame you for not wanting me to touch you.”

“Tom,” she said again, this time with compassion. Taking his hand from her damaged face, she held on tight to make sure he wouldn’t try and run off before she finished what she had to say. “I don’t blame you.”

He didn’t look convinced.

Taking a deep breath, Danny did one of the most terrifying things of her life; she let him in. Her eyes welling, she moved across the seat. “I could never blame you for loving your son so thoroughly that you would sacrifice anything for him, or so proud that you’d never let a coward like Dillinger control you. How could I hate you for wanting to protect Mercy? Yes, you’re impulsive, and hard-headed, and sometimes you infuriate me, but…that’s also why I love you.”

Tom stared at her and she held her breath, willing him to believe her. Praying that she didn’t just make the worst mistake of her—

Tom pulled Danny against him, careful not to bump her head. His arms encircled her in an embrace she used to think she would never long for, and now wanted more than anything. She got lost in the sensation of being the same in body and soul, and numbly wondered if that was what it felt like to be in love.

Pulling back just enough so he could bring his lips close to hers, Tom whispered into her good ear. “Thank you for trusting me, Danny. I was going to always love you no matter what, so it’s a good thing we both feel the same way.”

Laughing, Danny brought her lips to his and in that moment, their world was okay.

Chapter 10

GENERAL MONTGOMERY

Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Colorado

The two remaining joint commanders both appeared uncomfortable as they looked up at General Montgomery when he entered his office. They sat next to each other at the large conference table, a stack of papers and coffee that had likely gone cold in front of them. Montgomery had intentionally kept them waiting. Just because the end of known civilization was upon them didn’t mean he had to abandon good powerplay tactics.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he lied, pulling out a chair opposite the military leaders. Montgomery sat without offering an explanation and then looked expectantly at Walsh, who was hovering nervously at the far end of the room. His assistant was continuing to slowly unravel and he knew the day would soon come when he’d have to cut him loose. If the man could keep it together for just one more week, they’d be in a much stronger position. Dillinger was about to deliver, and he could then use the combined success of Monida, the Duke Ranch in Graham’s Place, and Miller Ranch in Mercy as examples of what could be accomplished. Once a greater plan was established, he’d move forward with implementing the strategy in the remaining states, and Walsh could finish having his breakdown. But not yet.

“Um, right. The first order of business will be our latest numbers and estimates, which were just finalized,” Walsh stammered. “If you’ll look at the top sheet—”

“That’s it?” Sergeant Major O’Shane interrupted. “We’re going to completely gloss over the fact that we haven’t met for more than a week, or even recognize the death of Vice Admiral Baker?”

“I would have thought the memorial was recognition enough,” Major General Visor said, turning to the sergeant beside him. “I’m quite certain we’ll be discussing his replacement. Right, General?” he asked, looking back to Montgomery.

General Montgomery carefully gauged his reaction. He still needed both the Army and Marine commanders support. “I thought it might be in poor taste to open our meeting today by speaking about the Admiral’s death and the need to thrust someone into his position. But certainly, Sergeant, we can get right to the meat of things. Hmm? If you pull out the bottom paper, you will see the valid candidates brought forward by myself as well as the both of you. While it will be impossible to truly replace Admiral Baker, I believe any of these applicants will be adequate. I propose we take some time to look them over and then meet to vote on it in a couple of days.”

Sergeant O’Shane blushed as he shuffled his papers around, clearly wanting to say something more. “General Montgomery, you know full well that isn’t what I meant.”

Walsh cleared his throat. “There is also a copy of the investigation into his cause of death.”

“He died a hero on the battlefield,” Montgomery interjected. “What more is there to say?”

Sergeant O’Shane glanced first at Visor and then Walsh, before settling on Montgomery. “No, I don’t suppose there is.”

“Then let’s get on with it.” Standing, Montgomery walked to the end of the table where a carafe sat, and poured himself a cup of fresh coffee. “I’m sure you are well aware, Sergeant, of the death toll, considering your work with the science team.”

“Unfortunately, I am.” Running a hand through his graying hair, Sergeant O’Shane went back to the top page on the pile. Although he wasn’t yet fifty, Montgomery noticed how the man appeared to have aged drastically over the past few weeks. “The original estimate from eleven days ago put us at around sixty-five million survivors,” O’Shane reported. “And another twenty-five percent are expected to succumb to other factors in the next month. With the horrific storms ravaging the West Coast as well as the bacterial outbreak, our newest projections are fifty million.”

“Fifty million as the anticipated final tally when this all settles?” Major Visor asked.

“No,” Walsh answered. “As our current population, and that is likely optimistic.”

Visor paled and he started to scribble numbers on the back of the paper. “But that’s…that has to be a death rate of—”

“Eighty-five percent,” O’Shane interjected, doing the math for him. “We still haven’t gotten the final death tolls from the latest storms, but we all know that in addition to the direct casualties, we also have tens of thousands of new refugees fleeing the coast. This additional burden will likely overrun and collapse some of the FEMA camps that have been recently established in the western states.”

“In a few more months, especially after winter, we can expect that number to climb to ninety percent,” Walsh added. He sounded as depressed as he looked and Montgomery glared at him. He needed him to be composed and confident.

“What can we do?” Major Visor splayed his hands out on the table and leaned forward in earnest. “There has to be more that we can do!”

General Montgomery nodded at Visor as he walked with his coffee to stand in front of the giant map. “Sometimes, a physician can spend so much time trying to address the patient’s body as a whole in order to save him that he fails to see the obvious. So, instead of cutting off the festering limb and healing what is left, the infection is left to spread, killing the patient.”

“General?” Visor said almost pleadingly, clearly not getting the point.

Turning to face them, the general was grim. “It’s time to focus on what we can do, rather than what we cannot. I was hopeful that our reach would be strong enough to encompass everyone that is left. However, it has become apparent that the changing weather and continued losses on the ground will hammer us until nothing remains, if we don’t take advantage of what is working.”

Walsh jumped to his feet and Montgomery was pleased with his timing. As he watched his assistant handing the commanders the appropriate reports, he was encouraged that perhaps the colonel could still be useful, after all.

“FEMA Shelter M3 continues to thrive,” Montgomery began, remaining in front of the map. “The new command center at the Duke Ranch is functioning beyond expectations and is quite promising for the community of Graham’s Place, despite some local dissent. The mountain town of Mercy is our next point of interest,” he continued, approaching the map and pointing out the green tack. “We’ve been told of an impressive cattle ranch there with more than a thousand cows, and it is perfectly positioned for yet another command.”

O’Shane skimmed over the paper Walsh had given him. “You’re suggesting we pull back our farther-reaching efforts and concentrate on creating more of these ‘communities’,” he surmised.

Major Visor was nodding, and some of his color was coming back. “This is promising. What is the farming project mentioned here? Do you really feel confident of our ability to feed upwards of several million in the coming year?”

Montgomery glanced at Walsh to confirm his reaction wasn’t questionable. When he managed to keep a neutral expression, the general walked back to the table and sat down, folding his hands in front of him in a relaxed manner. “I would like to assure both of you that while some of my tactics might seem radical, they are for good reasons. Focusing on petty political squabbles while hundreds of thousands more are dying would be inexcusable. So, you will have to forgive me for focusing on the long-term survivability for the largest, while still realistic numbers.”

The general paused, giving the other commanders an opportunity to interrupt him if they were strongly opposed to anything he’d already said. When they remained silent, he sat up straighter in his chair and continued. “I am still waiting on confirmation from Corporal Dillinger, and fully expect some other aspects of the mentioned project to be worked out soon. While I don’t want to raise false hope, I will tell you that my seemingly unconnected maneuvers over the past three weeks have been geared towards locating and facilitating a top-secret program that will all but guarantee that these isolated communities can flourish.”

“And the rest of the country?” Sergeant O’Shane asked, though not in an accusatory manner.

“Think of these small groups, overseen by the military, as our final attempt at addressing the needs of the nation systemically,” General Montgomery said, steepling his fingers. “My hope is that, once successful, the approach can be replicated until it includes everyone.”

Major Visor was nodding again, looking relieved. He even went so far as to reach out and grip O’Shane’s forearm. “You’ve told me what the science team has been forecasting,” he said. “If anyone can appreciate what the general is trying to do, I’d think it would be you.”

Sergeant O’Shane stood and carefully stacked his papers, tapping them down until the edges were all aligned before looking up to meet the general’s intense stare. “If you can, in fact, successfully demonstrate these towns working cohesively with our military, and give valid details on whatever this program is, I will guarantee the backing of our Marine forces.”

“And I the Army,” Visor said eagerly.

The general offered a small, compensatory smile before the other officers left the room. As the door swung shut, he turned to Walsh, a scowl clouding his features. “Anything new from Dillinger?”

“Um, no sir.” Walsh glanced furtively at the empty chairs and back to Montgomery. “You don’t think we should have told them everything?”

Montgomery closed his eyes and forced himself to take a breath before answering. “Colonel, there are times when I can’t help but question where your loyalties are.”

“They lie with the people, sir.”

Slamming his hands down on the table, the general stood with enough force to nearly topple his chair. “Don’t you dare question where my loyalties are.”

“I wasn’t, sir,” Walsh answered with a surprising amount of calm. “I was merely defending myself. You are the one raising the question of who is and is not loyal to our sworn oath.”

Taken aback for a moment, Montgomery shook his head to clear it. They were getting distracted by petty bickering and he refused to waste any more time. “How about 1st Force Recon?”

“Still dark.”

“Dr. Watson?” Montgomery asked. He circled around to his desk and sat down at it, frustrated with the roadblocks.

“Cooperating, now that we’ve got her granddaughter happy. In fact, we’ve narrowed down a couple of likely areas for the vaults.” Walsh looked distraught, rather than optimistic, as he pushed a folder across the general’s desk.

“I thought she didn’t know.” Picking the folder up, Montgomery opened it.

“She wasn’t sure,” Walsh confirmed. “But it turns out she always had her suspicions and now that she understands the full scope of what is occurring, she’s rather enthusiastic about heading up the farming program.”

“The colonel in charge of the vault project was living in rural Montana,” Montgomery muttered while looking over the short list. They were all locations in either Oregon or Montana. He sat the folder back down and drummed on it with his fingers while staring absently up at the map. “Where should Dillinger be now?”

Walsh frowned. “We last heard directly from him when he was at the Pony Express station near Helena. We don’t expect anything for another day or two, after they’ve reached Mercy.”

“Is the team at Malmstrom on standby?”

“Already sent,” Walsh confirmed.

“Good. I’m tired of waiting, and I don’t trust Dillinger on his own. We can’t afford to let Mercy turn into a bloodbath.” Standing, Montgomery held the folder back out to Walsh. “Is that piece of crap Huey Dillinger was using back here and operational?”

Walsh’s frown deepened. “Yes, sir, but—”

“Have it ready to spin up at fifteen hundred hours.” Montgomery tugged at his uniform. Dillinger was an idiot, and he needed to keep a shorter leash on his pitbull. He couldn’t afford any mistakes, not when so much was at stake. “Meet me on the tarmac then with Dr. Watson.”

“Sir?” Walsh asked, confused.

“It’s imperative that we have the continued support of both the Army and Marine commanders,” Montgomery said, irritated he had to explain the obvious. He would personally oversee Dillinger’s handling of Mercy, and it was clear that the geneticist could better serve them in Montana. “We’re going to the Duke Ranch,” he announced. “It’s time we paid a visit to Command Center Two.” Perhaps he’d leave Walsh there with the doctor as a show of his continued presence.

Smiling for the first time that day, Montgomery headed for the door. He had some packing to do.

Chapter 11

TOM

City Hall, Mercy, Montana

Tom made sure he was already seated before everyone began arriving. He knew his size could make him intimidating, and that wasn’t how he wanted to control the meeting. Patty somehow managed to have fresh coffee and some sort of pastry to offer as a breakfast already spread out on the table. Something Tom would have never thought to do. He still had a lot to learn.

Bishop’s voice was rising again so Tom shot him a cautionary glare. While he appreciated how he’d started things off by explaining the second radio and news about the Duke Ranch, Bishop wasn’t handling the pushback very well. Maybe, if he had given the town leaders the full story, there wouldn’t be so many questions.

Tom didn’t say anything when Bishop failed to mention his military background, or how long he’d really been using the radio. However, he planned on having a long, detailed conversation with the guy later that night, back at the ranch. Tom wasn’t going to accept any more excuses. It was time for the full story. On everything.

“Let him talk,” Tom finally said, interrupting Bishop as he attempted to argue with Gary. He was annoying, and had been going out of his way to cause trouble, but he was still a councilman. Gary also had a legitimate point that others in the room were likely thinking, and just not saying. It was best to get it all out in the open.

“Right,” Gary fumbled, clearly not expecting Tom to encourage him. “Well, okay. I just can’t help but wonder if Tom is what’s best for Mercy right now. Would Dillinger even be motivated to come here if it wasn’t for his interaction with you and your group at the FEMA camp?” he asked, looking pointedly at Tom. He gained confidence as he spoke, his voice rising. “And how about the detailed map you left for him at the Duke Ranch, which literally showed him exactly where to go!”

Tom shifted in his seat and bit back his initial reaction. He hoped no one noticed how he was clenching his jaw, or how he was sitting on his hands. “What do you want me to say, Gary? That this is all my fault? Fine, if that’s what it’ll take for us to move beyond it. It’s all my—”

“No.” Patty stood as she spoke, sounding harsh. Waving a hand in the air over her head, she made a grand motion to include everyone in the room. “We’re not doing this. If we start sitting around this table, pointing fingers and blaming each other for everything that goes wrong, we’ll never get around to doing something about it!”

It was still pretty early in the morning, and Tom had noticed a couple of people in attendance had begun to look distracted. Patty definitely had a way to snap everyone back to attention and he was glad she was on his side. She may have handed off the torch for running the town but she continued to be very much an influential figure.

“Is this Dillinger guy coming sooner than he would have?” Sheriff Waters said as Patty took her seat. “Maybe. That doesn’t mean the military wouldn’t have come knocking eventually. And I don’t see how we can blame Tom for another man’s actions. If we’re looking for someone to blame, I think we should start with whoever gave the order for those outlaws to attack us. Or, how about whoever’s pulling the strings behind Dillinger?”

“He’s right.” Paul pushed his chair back, the scraping sound underscoring his words. Everyone looked at him in surprise. Tom knew he was Gary’s best friend and he was the last person anyone expected to speak out against Gary, or in support of Tom.

Standing, Paul looked down pleadingly at Gary, who was seated next to him. “You know how much I’ve lost. As much or more than anyone in this room. Gary, I saw Tom yesterday.” Turning from his friend, he stared at Tom. “I heard those first shots from my place and rode over as fast as I could. I don’t know what I could have done to help if I’d gotten there sooner, but…well, I still went. I got there a few minutes behind y’all, and things were already under control. I saw Tom fighting those men,” he continued, addressing the rest of the room. “I saw a man willing to do whatever it took to save his family, his farm, and his town. So, I say let Dillinger come. Tom dealt with him once before and I’m sure we can all figure out a way to successfully deal with him here in Mercy, too.”

As Paul re-took his seat, Tom cleared his throat. “I appreciate that, Paul. And while I understand your concerns, Gary, I also think the sheriff has a valid point. I might have inadvertently sped up our clash with the military, which I regret, but it was coming nonetheless. They want our cattle. Not just mine, either, but all of ours. They want our crops, our medical supplies, and our farms. They want our town, regardless of who’s here.”

“What are we going to do about it?” Mr. Sullivan asked. Tom sighed inwardly in relief. Another bullet dodged and they seemed to be moving on to more solid ground.

“Get as much information as we can,” Sam answered as he stood and went to the white board. He was obviously in his element and Tom smiled appreciatively at his friend. Sam already had several things written out on the board in preparation, which he addressed one-by-one as he spoke. “First, Caleb and Bishop will both spend extra time on the radios, trying to make contact with other FEMA shelters and military bases. Our hope is that Dillinger might be acting on his own, without any direct orders. Or, if he does have orders, we might be able to get someone else in a higher position to oppose it. Second, we were successful in our interrogation this morning with the, umm, prisoner. He confirmed the outlaws were acting on behalf of Corporal Dillinger and that their primary objectives were to take the cattle and attack the farm. Third, we propose that tomorrow we use the city barbeque and Fourth of July celebration as a time to inform the town as to what is and has been happening, and to request volunteers to act as our own form of city guard.”

“Who’s going to train them?” Dr. Olsen didn’t look convinced, though Tom was relieved to see that most of the others in attendance were nodding in approval of the plan.

“I will,” Sheriff Waters replied. “I have military as well as some SWAT training. Bishop has offered to assist me, and I know there are several other veterans living in Mercy, including Caleb.”

Caleb gave a salute to the sheriff from his spot at the end of the table. “Yes, sir. Over twenty years in the Army. I imagine I still recall a thing or two.”

Several more gestures of approval, including Fire Chief Martinez and Councilwoman Betty. Tom wished Danny could have been there, but his mom insisted that no one wake her that morning. She had opted to stay behind with her and the kids, so they could all get back to cutting the hay. They had four people from town voluntarily standing guard, plus the radios were working again, thanks to Tane and his quick repair job. Tom didn’t think he could stomach being separated again if they didn’t have the ability to communicate.

“I feel better knowing we have a plan,” Al commented, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. The gas station owner frowned as he pointed at Sam and the board. “I’m just not so sure it’s a good idea to be throwing a party tomorrow, considering everything that’s going on.”

“Actually,” Melissa said, looking more optimistic. “While I’m not a psychiatrist, I know enough about mental health to say that I think it would be good for everyone to go forward with the barbeque. It’s one of the few constants we’ve had to look forward to. Not to mention the fact that a whole lot of people are lacking in getting enough protein. Everyone needs to eat, no matter what else is happening.”

“And I think it’s an appropriate celebration,” Patty added.

“I think it is, too,” Tom said, finally standing. As all eyes turned in his direction, he offered a silent prayer that he’d choose the right words. He wasn’t all that good at speeches; physical confrontations were more his thing. “The Fourth of July is all about celebrating our independence. It might come across as a little ironic to be making a recruiting speech during it for the possible need to go up against our own military, but it’s about maintaining Mercy’s freedom. The God-given right to not have your freedom or property taken from you, no matter who it is that’s trying to do it.”

When no one challenged him, and even Gary looked as if he might agree, Tom was encouraged to continue. “This afternoon, I’ll be overseeing the slaughter of one of our cows so we can all come together tomorrow, as a town, and celebrate our continued survival. The only way we’re going to succeed is by doing it together. Now, I’m certainly not looking to pick a fight with our military. I think we’re all in agreement that our goal is to protect Mercy, and to look for a way to work alongside what remains of our country in a way that benefits everyone, while ensuring our continued freedom.”

Bishop was the first to clap, and Tom’s initial reaction was to frown at him. However, as one person after another joined in, and then began to stand with Tom, he understood that something important was happening. Something that went beyond giving a speech to make people happy. It was a truth and a common goal that they all shared. It was about more than simply surviving. It was about thriving as a community, together, because they were all a part of something bigger than themselves.

Tom found himself compelled to join them and was caught up in the applause until the sounds all merged into one.

Chapter 12

RUSSELL
Mercy Parish, Mercy, Montana

Russell set his pack on the wooden chair next to the small kitchen table and placed a bag of beef jerky inside, on top of the other things he’d already packed. His bike was hidden up near the spring, something he’d managed to accomplish the day before when everyone was distracted by the attack on the ranch. Not that he really cared if anyone knew he was leaving; he was free to depart Mercy whenever he chose. He simply preferred to avoid questions, and drawing any sort of attention to himself would limit his ability to move around unfettered.

A rare look of discontent crossed his handsome features as Russell recalled the conversation with Ethan and Chloe from the day before. It was rather unfortunate, but the boy had a way of drawing out his curiosity. He simply couldn’t resist evoking the desired reactions, even though it could potentially disrupt the façade he’d been successfully presenting. Russell scoffed at himself as he gathered the last few items lying on the table. It didn’t matter anymore if someone found him odd. After tomorrow, Mercy would be nothing more than another memory. One stop among many along Russell’s route.

He paused to examine the Glock, badge, and nametag belonging to Deputy Rogers. If he had to take on another persona again, Russell would certainly opt for the role of a police officer, instead of a pastor. He decided pastoring required too much patience.

An urgent knocking at the back door disrupted his thoughts, and Russell quickly stuffed the gun and other objects into the backpack before going to answer it. Hovering on the porch, looking somewhat lost, was Councilman Gary.

“Gary,” Russell said without a lot of enthusiasm. “What brings you here?”

“I need to talk to you,” Gary pled, literally pushing his way past Russell and into the kitchen.

“Have you come to confess your sins?” Though irritated by the intrusion, Russell still found the groveling worm to be amusing.

Gary waved a hand absently, completely missing the satire in the comment. “No, no. You were right about the leaders of this town and how they have their own agendas. Something needs to be done about Thomas Miller. Patty has him wrapped around her finger and how no one else sees he is nothing more than her puppet, I’ll never understand. Please, Father,” he continued emphatically. “People might listen to you.”

“Why don’t you call me Russell, since we seem to be such dear friends.”

“O-Okay,” Gary stammered, wavering in his resolve at the realization that Russell wasn’t taking him seriously. “I thought you were one of the few here who saw clearly what Patty’s been doing. Now, things are even worse with Tom. He acts like he’s John Wayne, here to save the day, when all he’s really doing is bringing more misery.”

“Yes, Tom,” Russell muttered. Gary was right that the man had a superiority complex, though perhaps not completely unwarranted. Ethan bore a close resemblance to his father, and they both reminded Russell of his own brother. Was that why he found himself so intrigued by the boy?

“Did you know the Pony Express station may have been attacked?” Gary was asking. “Now some corporal Tom got in a fight with is probably going to turn Mercy into a FEMA camp and of course, Tom wants to fight him instead.”

Gary had left the door open in his haste and a gust of wind found its way inside, snuffing out the candle on the table. As the smoke rose and Russell tuned out the other man’s incessant dialog, he compared Ethan’s features with what remained of the memory of his younger brother. It was a mistake.

The kitchen faded, to be replaced with the small attic room of his childhood, heavy with the smell of burning candles. “Edelweiss” was playing, the tune clunky and erratic as the player’s teeth bounced over the plastic disc.

Daniel was there. A constant pest even though Russell was exceptionally cruel to him. He was particularly persistent that day in trying to get his older brother’s attention, and had entered Russell’s room knowing he would pay dearly for it. He told Daniel to go away. He had warned him. But instead, the ten-year-old did the one thing he knew would make his big brother react. He snatched the blue plastic disc from the player and stood there holding it at the top of the stairs, a grin on his face.

Russell didn’t remember being mad. Instead, he’d felt a calm unlike anything he’d ever experienced as he approached his younger brother and without comment, shoved him down the stairs. The house was old and the stairs were steep, and Daniel’s small body appeared to fly for the briefest of moments as he toppled head over heels, to land in an unmoving heap at the bottom. That was where their mother discovered him, dead, several hours later. Russell was sitting on his bed, listening to Edelweiss over and over again. Russell was just twelve years old, and it was the first time he’d taken a life.

“Father?”

Russell blinked, his mind still drifting in the dark, stuffy attic room.

“Russell?” Gary’s voice rose as his concern grew over the blank stare and unresponsive nature of the priest. Reaching out, he grabbed at Russell’s arms to give him a shake. “Are you okay?”

Russell reacted to the physical contact as if he’d been touched with hot irons, jumping back and colliding with the chair he was standing next to. The backpack toppled over and onto the floor, some of its contents spilling out and clattering across the wooden boards.

His head slowly clearing, Russell was at first simply annoyed with both himself and Gary. He didn’t welcome the imposition of either the visit or the memory it had provoked. The lapse of control was a rare occurrence and not something often witnessed. It seemed to be happening more often since coming to Mercy. Another compelling reason to leave.

Gary still stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen, glancing back and forth between the floor and Russell. He didn’t understand what had the idiot so baffled until Gary knelt down and pointed at the gun on the floor.

“Wha-what’s this?” he stuttered, looking up at Russell, his eyes wide.

“The road is a dangerous place for anyone to be,” Russell said evenly, and then sighed when Gary continued to go through his things. Really, the man was getting to be an increasingly maddening nuisance.

Ignoring the beef jerky and two pairs of rolled-up socks, Gary chose to pick up the police badge and nametag. “Deputy Rogers,” Gary read aloud as he stood with the curious evidence in his hands. “Why do you have this?”

Russell smiled warmly as he reached out and gently removed the gun from Gary’s hand. Tsking, he shook his head as he stepped around the other man. “Oh, Gary.” Moving to the door, Russell closed it firmly before turning around, the smile gone from his face. “I really wish you hadn’t seen that.”

Chapter 13

ETHAN

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

Ethan rested his arms on the top rail of the lodge-pole fence and leaned against it. Sam sat next to him, balanced on the pole with his feet resting on the bottom pine railing. They were both scrutinizing the butchering of a cow that was taking place nearby.

The location had been carefully chosen to make the transportation of the meat easier. They were a fair distance away from the barn and main field, and next to the road leading into the ranch, so the wagons could be pulled up close. There’d been a brief debate about simply leading the cow all the way into town before shooting it, but in the end, his dad determined what he thought was the best way to go about it.

Fortunately, the weather was cooperating for the time being. Ethan was getting used to the unpredictable nature of it though, so he knew the currently innocent-looking clouds scattered to the east could easily morph into something entirely different by nightfall. He sniffed at the air, and was comforted that it at least smelled the same, a mixture of dry grass, cow dung, and good ol’ Montana dirt.

Brushing some of that dirt from his hands, Ethan was thankful to get a break from cutting the never-ending hayfield. He’d been pleasantly surprised earlier when Sam arrived back from the town meeting just before lunch, with a group of volunteers to help speed things along. Ten of them in all, which was more than enough manpower to finish the harvest by the end of the day.

Sandy was currently doing an expert job of directing them, and was already organizing another workforce to do something similar at several other farms in the valley. Sort of like an old-fashioned barn raising, only for harvesting, instead.

Ethan was glad to have a few minutes alone with Sam because he wanted to let him know about the disturbing conversation with Russell from the day before. He’d had time to process it while cutting grass that morning, and just laid it all out for him. Ethan chewed on a piece of straw while waiting for his friend’s reaction.

Running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, Sam cursed under his breath before turning to look down at Ethan. His face was noticeably flushed, which was saying a lot considering his Hispanic complexion. “I’m afraid that poor excuse for a priest did get his information from me. I thought it was a confidential way for me to talk through some things. I can’t—” Sam stopped and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “I spoke about a lot more than you, Ethan. There were some heavy things on my heart regarding my wife, and I never thought my trust would be violated in such a way. I hope you can forgive me.”

Ethan immediately regretted telling him. His goal wasn’t to make Sam feel bad, and there really wasn’t anything to be done about it. “Oh, jeez, Sam…it’s not your fault. I’m not mad at you about it, so you don’t need to apologize to me. I just thought you’d want to know you can’t trust the guy. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

Sam jumped down from the fence and began to pace. “So, we’ll agree that neither of us needs to apologize to the other. You know what? I feel the deep need for another confession coming on.”

Ethan smirked, relieved that Sam was able to keep a sense of humor about it. Except he hoped he wasn’t serious. The last thing Ethan wanted was to be in the middle of yet more drama. “Don’t you think we already have enough to fight about right now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

Sam stopped his marching and shook his head. “I suppose you’re right, but something needs to be said about Father Russell. Maybe I’ll corner Patty tomorrow after the barbeque. I think she’s on some sort of church committee. It’s a serious breach of etiquette that they need to be made aware of.”

“How’s the whole indoor farming going?” Ethan asked, eager to change the subject. “Anyone come up with some other sites yet? I know Henry’s Hollow is big, but it won’t be enough for everything we’ll need.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Sam confirmed, leaning back against the fence beside him. “It’s going to come down to a combination of existing greenhouses, barns, and a couple of caves. At this point, I don’t think it’ll be a lack of growing space that will be our greatest challenge.”

“Water?” Ethan guessed.

“Nope.” Sam narrowed his eyes at him. “Guess again.”

“Dirt?”

Sam laughed. “Dirt is the one thing we have plenty of. No, it’ll be finding an adequate supply of what we need to plant. We simply don’t have enough seeds, and with the acid rain already having an impact, I’m concerned what our success rate will be. It’ll be hard enough to overcome our lack of artificial sunlight.”

Ethan was at a loss as far as having anything intelligent to add. “We’ll be working on our water problem here once the hay is done, but then Chloe and I should be able to help with the cave. At least, for a little while.”

“Cleanup won’t even start for a couple of more days,” Sam said, kicking at a clump of soil. “We need to wait until we have a better grasp on what’s happening outside of Mercy before we get too many people tied up inside the mountain.”

Ethan found it frustrating that they were having to delay important work because of Dillinger. He wished he could have thought of a way to sabotage him back when he had basically free range at the FEMA shelter. Of course, he had no way of knowing then that the guy would come back to haunt them.

A rapid string of barks caused both Ethan and Sam to turn away from the fence. Grace came bounding across the grass towards them, tongue lolling. The retriever loved farm life and although she was constantly running around, had even managed to fatten up to a healthier weight. Ethan knelt down to greet her, only to be bowled over by the dog. “Hey!” he grunted as he fell onto his back, trying to fend off his excited friend. “Down, Grace! Ugh, that’s enough tongue.”

Sam laughed as Ethan struggled, not offering any help. “That’s what you get for not taking her on a walk last night.”

“I was busy,” Ethan muttered as he staggered to his feet. “I was finally beating Chloe at Risk. No way could I walk away from that.”

“And who ended up winning?” Sam gave a wink, not expecting an answer.

The sounds of an approaching wagon spared Ethan the need to make up any more excuses, and he smiled when he saw that it was Danny and Chloe. It had been nice having both Grace and Danny around the farm and he hoped they’d stay longer. He understood why she wanted to be with her dad, of course. He also knew how small Tane’s house was, so there was always a chance of the ranch luring her.

“Think they’re ready for us yet?” Danny called out as they pulled up.

Sam scratched at his head and gestured down to where Tom and four other men and a woman were gathered. “I’m not much of a judge, but it sure looks like they’ve got some pieces piling up.”

Chloe grimaced and Ethan tried not to laugh at her expression. “You sure you want to be a part of this?” he asked.

Straightening on the wooden seat next to Danny, she set her lips in a thin line. “Absolutely. I need to learn about this stuff if I ever hope to call myself a farmer, and I will do whatever it takes at this point to get me out of that hayfield.”

Ethan noticed she was wearing her custom Star Wars tank top, and for some reason it gave him a sense of contentment. He’d given it and all of his other clothes she’d been wearing back to her, since most didn’t even fit him anymore. They’d come to a mutual understanding about most of it, except he still suspected she’d been using his toothbrush, though she passionately denied it.

“Great timing!” Tom called out as he trudged up the sloped ground to where they were gathered. “If you pull the wagon up around the corner, there’s a smaller dirt road you can use to get closer.” His hands were covered in blood and there were flecks of it splattered on his jeans, making him look like some character out of a backwoods slasher film.

“So long as you guys do all the loading and unloading, I am happy to drive this wagon,” Danny offered, smiling warmly at Tom even though her head was still thick with bandages and she looked like someone who’d been in a war.

Watching the exchange, and the way his dad responded by looking away, almost…shyly, Ethan got the sense that something had changed between the two. He grinned. If things were going that well between his dad and Danny, that might mean a better chance of her staying there. Which meant Grace would stay, too.

He waved at Chloe when the wagon started moving again as his dad led them to the other road. Ethan was cautiously hopeful. It felt right, all of them together again. Except he knew that just like when they were on the road, nothing was certain anymore and it could all change quickly.

Sam told him they were basically in a wait-and-see situation. They were monitoring the radios, and the riders who continued on to the Pony Express station two days ago should be coming back anytime to give a report. Hopefully, after his dad’s recruiting announcement at the barbeque the next day, they’d have enough volunteers to get some good patrols going so they at least wouldn’t be an easy target.

Meanwhile, Ethan was eager to move forward. He needed to keep busy or else his thoughts had too much time to turn inward.

“Break’s over,” Sam said, slapping Ethan on the back. “If we don’t get back to that field, your grandmother will have us slinging cow dung for the next two days straight.”

Ethan watched Grace chase after the wagon before turning to follow Sam. He only made it a few feet before he paused and looked up at the clouds to the east he’d spotted earlier. Sure enough, they were already changing. Much like the other threats looming over them, they were beginning to cast a shadow as they steadily crawled closer.

Chapter 14

DANNY

Main Street, Mercy, Montana

Danny had no idea what she was getting herself into when she offered to drive the wagon. Her head injury prevented her from doing anything too physical, so it had sounded better than lying on the couch. However, watching the raw meat loaded into the wagon and smelling it the whole way into town was bad enough. Then they had to help unload it and wash the blood out of the back afterward. By the end, she and Chloe had as much blood on them as Tom had.

“Ugh,” Chloe gasped as she scrubbed her hands for the third time. “I honestly don’t know if I’ll be able to eat a steak tomorrow.”

They were standing behind the farmers’ market, at a handwashing station that Patty had insisted be set up to help keep the area sanitary. Smoke from the huge smokehouse Caleb had built in the city square was already wafting through the town, and despite everything, Danny’s mouth was watering. “I dunno, Chloe,” she said, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. “I’ve always loved a good steak.”

Mercy was bustling with activity as confidence was gradually being restored after the attack. The farmers’ market was back in full swing, and Patty had a horde of people setting up tables and decorations for the Fourth of July celebration-slash-barbeque. One of the working generators was out and rumbling away. Valuable fuel was being used to power up a large freezer unit to keep the meat fresh until the next morning. Danny was impressed that someone had gotten a freezer to even work, and assumed it must have been Frankensteined with various parts to achieve it.

“Danny!” Tane called in surprise.

Danny smiled before she even turned around, happy to see her dad. He was on foot and walking fast, not looking nearly as pleased. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

His step faltered slightly before he stopped in front of them with his hands on his hips. Chuckling, he shook his head at her. “Danny, you’re the one who was shot in the head yesterday. And here you are, already being put to work! You’re asking me if I’m okay when you’re bandaged up and looking like a mummy.”

Cringing, Danny reached up absently to pat at the dressing she kept forgetting about. Way to make her feel embarrassed. “I wasn’t shot in the head, Dad,” she corrected while looking around to see if anyone was staring at her. “Stop making it sound so dramatic. It was just my ear.” A fresh throbbing in her damaged ear reminded Danny that she needed to stop at the clinic for some Advil.

“Whatever. Your ear is attached to your head. What is she doing out here?” he asked, turning to Chloe. To the girl’s credit, Danny noticed she didn’t back away from the huge man.

“We just drove the wagon with the meat in it, Mr. Latu,” Chloe said innocently, failing to mention the physically taxing unloading they’d been roped into. Tom had stayed behind to finish butchering the rest of the cow, and then load it into the second wagon. They thought there’d be more help on the other end.

“Oh! So you’re the ones who hijacked my wagon,” he said, his grin returning. “That’s why I’m here, actually. We’re getting further behind on the water by the hour, especially with so many people coming into town tomorrow. They’re going to want to fill up before going home. Where’s the wagon?”

“City square,” Danny said, gesturing to the nearby, large grassy area outside City Hall. “It’s already been washed out and is ready to go. Sorry, Dad, we should have brought it back out to you.”

Tane raised a meaty hand and waved her off. “Are you kidding? If this means I get to cut into a large chunk of meat tomorrow, I’ll work twice as long moving water between now and then.”

It was Danny’s turn to frown as he walked away.

“What’s his meds situation like?” Chloe asked, correctly interpreting Danny’s concern.

“Only a couple doses left,” Danny replied absently, still watching him as he crossed the street and made his way into the courtyard. She turned thoughtfully to Chloe. “Once the watershed was done being built and the supply train all figured out, it’s been primarily handled these past few days by my dad and a handful of other volunteers. I know he doesn’t mind, and it’s actually a great way to keep him busy. He’s always been happiest when he has too much to do, which is one of the reasons he had a heart attack in the first place.”

“So, what can I do to help?” Chloe pushed, again accurately reading into Danny’s dialogue. She hadn’t realized how perceptive the teen was.

Danny grinned at Chloe before draping an arm conspiratorially around her shoulders. She was so much shorter than Danny that it was almost comical. “Patty already corralled me into helping her all morning with the cooking and prep work for the party. Plus, my dad would never accept my help. You heard him!”

Chloe turned her head enough to look up at Danny, but she was smiling and didn’t pull away, so Danny continued. “As far as I know, there’s only going to be one other gal helping with the water run in the morning. Do you think you—”

“You don’t even need to ask,” Chloe interrupted. “With the hay getting done today, Ethan and I will be free all morning. We’ll both go and make sure your dad doesn’t have to do anything except sit and watch.”

Relief flooded Danny and she gave Chloe a squeeze. She admired the girl’s intelligence, as well as her work ethic. Maybe she’d end up recruiting her for the fire department. She had the right personality for it.

The sound of another wagon jangling down the street reached them, and they both quickly scooted around the back of the booth they were behind. Danny was surprised to see Tom and Bishop so soon, though she certainly wasn’t disappointed. Maybe, if they finished unloading fast enough, they could get back to the farm in time to eat dinner together. She’d heard a rumor from Sandy that they would set aside a small amount of meat. Her mouth watered again.

Before anyone could call out a greeting, Sheriff Waters came running up in a hurry, pushing around a couple in the road and causing some inquisitive looks from some bystanders. “Tom! Do you have your radio on?”

Tom yanked the radio off his belt and twisted the dial. “No, the battery was almost dead, so I turned it off during the ride into town. What’s up?”

“Sheriff, do you read? What should we do? Over.”

The voice squawking over the radios was high-pitched and clearly stressed. Any feeling of contentment Danny had evaporated in an instant. It could be anything, of course, from someone falling off a ladder to an all-out attack, but she knew instinctively that it was something significant.

“Soldiers,” Waters said without any preamble. “At the north gate. Not sure how many.”

Tom leapt down from the wagon and keyed up the radio. “How many, and what’s your situation?” There were a few seconds of silence before he got a response.

“We’ve got six armed soldiers and a couple of…civilians. Guy named Hicks says Bishop will want to see him.”

Danny felt uneasy as Bishop jumped down next to Tom, who was eying him suspiciously. Chloe gasped at the same time and took a step in their direction.

“Hicks is the other counselor!” Chloe exclaimed. “The one who left our hiking group to go find the other kids.”

Danny could tell by Bishop’s expression that there was a whole lot more going on. He took the radio from Tom’s hand without comment and spoke into it. “This is Bishop. Hold your position. Let them know I’m on my way with Mayor Miller and Sheriff Waters.”

Tom snatched the radio back from Bishop right as he finished the transmission, his anger barely contained. “You care to fill us in on what we’re walking into?”

“Hicks wouldn’t lead anyone here if it wasn’t safe,” Bishop said.

Unsatisfied with the explanation, Tom took a step closer to him. “I want to know who he is, and why the hell he’s led a group of soldiers to my town!”

People nearby were beginning to take notice and stopping to listen. Danny cautiously moved in between the two men and set a hand on Tom’s arm. “I think we should trust him,” she said quietly, glancing around at the onlookers. “We have to trust someone, Tom.”

“Hicks is a captain in the US Army,” Bishop whispered, so that only those closest to him could hear. “I have no idea who’s with him, but if he’s here, it’s important, and we’re going to want to at least talk to him.”

“I’ve already got one of my deputies on his way here,” Sheriff Waters said. “How about the four of us go see who’s knocking?”

“Five,” Danny corrected.

“Six,” Chloe said, moving closer to Danny. “And don’t even try to tell me to go home,” she added, before Tom or Bishop could give her the order. “I know Hicks. He was kind of a jerk, but I don’t think he’d hurt anyone.”

Bishop scoffed, and everyone visibly relaxed slightly, including Danny. “Chloe’s right on both counts,” he confirmed.

Tom still looked irritated, but he reclipped his radio and gestured up the road with his head. “All right. I don’t see that we have much of a choice. Let’s go.”

Danny smiled reassuringly to the couple of people lingering near them, and she didn’t notice anyone following as they walked together up Main Street. Her stomach was in knots, and didn’t improve after the sheriff’s deputy joined them with an additional rifle. Since Tom and Bishop already had theirs, she took the extra. However, if there were really soldiers at the gate, Danny doubted any of their weapons would do much compared to automatic rifles.

It didn’t take long to travel the mile to where the road was barricaded at the northern end of Mercy. The buildings thinned out fast and what houses lined the street were spread out over several-acre lots. The roadblock was closer there than the one to the south, as the north road didn’t lead directly to any other towns. It was very rarely used by anyone trying to gain entry into Mercy.

As they approached it, Danny could see what looked like a rather large group of men gathered, most of them in camo gear, and all heavily armed. One was wearing outdoor clothing and standing next to an attractive, middle-aged woman. A particular soldier stood out from the rest due to his dauting size. He was incredibly tall, and built like a bull. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but Danny couldn’t remember from where or why.

Bishop’s pace suddenly quickened until he was almost running, leaving the rest of them behind to scramble to keep up. “Stay here,” Tom directed to Danny and Chloe as he unslung his rifle and ran after him. From the look on Tom’s face, she guessed he recognized the soldier, too.

Before Danny could decide what to do, Bishop stopped ten feet from the gate. He had his back to her, but she could see the reaction from the huge soldier, as his shoulders sagged and he pushed past the fencing without even acknowledging the startled guards.

Tom and Sheriff Waters stared in bewilderment at the two men, but didn’t try to interfere as they approached each other.

Danny watched in stunned silence as the soldier reached out and grasped Bishop by the arms, a huge smile spreading across his handsome face as he spoke. “Hey, Dad.”

Chapter 15

JAMES

Master Sergeant, US Marines, 1st Force Reconnaissance

Mercy, Montana

James had never seen his dad so emotional, except for the day they buried his mother. While he had the benefit of knowing his father was going to be in Mercy, the last time they’d spoken, James was about to leave for Germany with his team. Up until that moment, his dad probably thought he was dead.

There was a heavy pause as everyone else became bystanders to their reunion, and it didn’t matter to James whether they understood or not. After a long embrace, Bishop stood back and held him at arm’s length. “I didn’t know you were alive. I thought—”

“The mission got scrubbed,” James answered as his dad got too choked up to finish the sentence. “It was a last-minute call, so we were still on base at Malmstrom when the gamma-ray hit.”

“Allison and the baby?”

“They were at home at Base Pendleton,” James assured his dad about his wife and daughter. “I’d just spoken to Ally before we lost power. I haven’t seen or talked to her since, but I’ve gotten confirmation they’re okay.” The reality was that James lay awake each night worrying about his family, and would continue to until they were reunited.

Bishop let go of him and seemed to remember suddenly that there were other people there. “Um, Tom, this is my…son. Master Sergeant James Campbell, leader of the 1st Force Reconnaissance.”

James shifted his attention to the large man standing behind his father and had an intense feeling of deja vu. He could see the recognition on Tom’s face as the woman next to him started to point. “We’ve met you before,” she said, confirming his suspicions.

“What?” Bishop demanded, turning to her. “How?”

“Your son already saved our skins once, back at FEMA Shelter M3,” Tom explained, stepping forward to hold out a hand to him. “Nice to see you again. I don’t think you ever really met Danny. And this is Sheriff Waters, and Chloe.”

“Hey, Hicks,” Chloe quipped with a small wave and crooked grin.

James grunted as it all fell into place and he took the hand that Tom offered. He looked different out of the black FEMA gear, and his face had healed, but James still recognized him. His initial assessment of the rancher back at the shelter seemed to have been accurate. Tom was both a fighter and a survivor, and James wasn’t surprised to run into him again. And he finally knew where he’d heard the name Mercy before. It had been bugging him for the past two days, as they’d gotten closer to the town.

Bishop was looking back and forth between the three of them as they became reacquainted. “I don’t understand,” he said, running a hand over the top of his head in frustration. “What were you doing at the FEMA shelter, James? Where have you been? You were so close this whole time, and I had no idea.”

James looked over at his five men before gesturing to the senator. He might as well dump it all on them at once. “First, let’s get the introductions out of the way,” he said with a forced grin. “I should probably start with US Senator Alicia Jenson. We’re doing our best to keep her safe from some rogue military actions. I was hoping Mercy would be a safe refuge.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” the senator said as they exchanged pleasantries amid an appropriate amount of shock and confusion. “I get the feeling everyone has long stories to tell and we’ve been walking for almost two days. Is there a place we can sit down to do it? Preferably over a glass of something with a really high alcohol content.”

“Oh, you and my mom are going to get along famously,” Tom scoffed. “It sounds like we’re having some similar problems.” He pointed back over his shoulder. “I think we should all go back to the ranch. We can avoid going through town and there’s enough room for everyone.”

“Why do we need to avoid the town?” Jay asked, moving up alongside James while giving him a cautionary look.

The sheriff shouldered his rifle and appeared slightly chagrined. “People are a little spooked right now around anyone in a uniform. We’d do best to avoid drawing too much attention until we get a chance to announce your appearance, or else find you something else to wear.”

“And there’s also a quarantine for any newcomers,” Danny said while absently touching her face. James wondered what in the world had happened to her head. It was swathed with a thick layer of bandages and he could see some bruising extending down from under it on her right cheek. If he remembered correctly, the last time he saw her she’d just been racked in the forehead with an AR by a Marine with a bad attitude.

“Quarantine?” Senator Jenson asked with some concern. “Are we at risk of being exposed to something nasty?”

“No,” Tom assured them. “It’s to protect the town. There was an outbreak before we got here that was caused by some travelers, but there haven’t been any new cases for around two weeks.”

“I think I’ve probably heard of it,” the senator said, nodding her head. “Something resembling cholera? There were reports of a serious epidemic in Helena, though there aren’t any cases in Idaho yet.”

“You’re the senator of Idaho?” Danny asked, her curiosity clearly deepening.

Before anyone could offer any more information, both of the radios Tom and Sheriff Waters had with them began squawking. James watched as a look passed between them, and then Bishop raised his eyebrows at Tom.

“Okay,” Tom said to the unasked question, apparently coming to a decision and making it clear who called the shots. “We’re a code four here at the north gate,” he said into the radio while looking at James and then the rest of his team, who were all standing at ease behind him. “False alarm.”

“Mayor?” one of the guards asked, looking somewhat uncomfortable. “What do you want us to tell people?”

“The truth,” Tom said pointedly. “We’re not attempting to cover anything up here, John. If anyone wants to know, we’ve had a member of the US civilian government and her escort arrive, asking for shelter. The sheriff and I are taking them to the farm and we’ll make an official announcement about our guests tomorrow at the barbeque.”

James noted how all three guards were visibly reassured by Tom’s direct approach, and his respect for the man as a leader deepened. It was a smart move. It also reminded him that they had an audience, and he didn’t want to have the upcoming conversation where anyone else could overhear.

“Let’s get moving,” Tom directed, mirroring James’ thoughts. He pulled the barricade open wider. “It’s several miles to my ranch.”

“I’ll send my deputy back to get the wagon,” Sheriff Waters offered, while gesturing to the man in question who had been standing quietly off to the side the whole time. “No need to say anything specific, Jim. Just get it emptied and explain that you’re taking it back to the ranch.”

“You got it, Sheriff,” Jim answered eagerly, already walking away with a wave. “I’ll catch up to ya as fast as I can!”

“Did you walk all the way here from the Trek Thru Trouble office?” Chloe asked as they began walking, looking pointedly at Hicks. “Why didn’t you come sooner, if you knew we were here?”

“We came part of the way on a helicopter,” Jay answered. “Our recon unit just got to the office a couple of days ago.”

“It’s complicated,” Hicks said, without further explanation.

Senator Jenson moved next to Bishop, and James groaned when he saw the look on her face. “I’m not sure who outranks whom here, but I’m guessing that you might be the man I need to direct my questions to. I’m hoping you have the authority to fill us all in on what it is we’re doing out here.” The senator spread her arms wide and waved them around at the surrounding mountains and endless trees. “Because I still have no idea why I’m out in the middle of nowhere.”

His dad turned from the woman who was used to getting her way and stared at James. She watched the exchange and rolled her eyes. “Look, General Montgomery essentially put out a hit on me, and your son and his team decided to disobey orders and whisked me away, instead. I appreciate what they’ve done for me, but I’m in the dark as to why I’ve been brought here. I’m not buying the excuse that it’s simply a good place to hide. I need details, especially if I’m going to help with whatever it is you guys are in the middle of. The civilian government and military need to work together, with the people, if we have any shot of making it through this.”

“She’s definitely right about that,” Danny agreed. “Coming from someone who’s been caught in the middle, if Senator Jenson has a shot at bridging the gap, now would be a good time to start talking, Bishop.”

James knew just from his dad’s body posture that he was resigned to exposing everything, and he gave Jay a look. He hadn’t shared the truth of the vault with his team, though they had to know something more was at stake when he’d ordered Corporal Lance to stay back with Hawk. While the two men could never hold off a direct military assault, James didn’t want to leave the kids completely defenseless in the unlikely event that some other rogue group attacked them. At the time, he still thought the office would be safer for the teens than the trip to Mercy.

“The Trek Thru Trouble program and office is a cover for the largest and most sophisticated seed vault in the world,” Bishop said. “There are three of them in the US, but Trek’s is the main one. I was part of the team that designed and built it, and I’ve been in charge of protecting it since it went operational a year ago.”

“Seed vault?” Senator Jenson asked. It was the first time James had seen her at a loss for words. “As in, there’s a storage facility under that building?”

“A massive structure,” Hicks confirmed. “It’s tied into a pre-existing cave system, and it’s not just a seed vault. They’re genetically modified seeds and animal embryos, stored in self-germinating containers in a nuclear and EMP-hardened infrastructure. Just the two vaults located here and in Oregon are more than enough to enable what’s left of our population to be self-sustaining in harsher environments than what we’re already facing.”

Danny was shaking her head. “This doesn’t make sense. What does this have to do with some general trying to kill a senator, or Mercy?”

“Have you heard of General Montgomery?” James asked. “The Four-star general left in charge of the military?”

Tom nodded. “We heard bits and pieces about the general when we were in the shelter, and Caleb’s interpreted and put together some of the military’s infrastructure based on the transmissions he’s picked up.”

“The general has been using my unit as his personal SWAT team,” James explained. “Did you know you were on the Survivor List?” he asked his dad.

Bishop frowned and turned to him thoughtfully. “I was notified, but at the time never thought it would be activated. Even now, while I was staying hidden in order to protect The Farm, I didn’t think the list would come into play. It’s stored at Mount Weather.”

James raised his eyebrows and then put out a hand to stop his dad’s next question. “Later,” he promised. “General Montgomery was using it as a means to gather the people he needed to get control of the vault. He’s a smart guy and he saw where the power was going to be several moves ahead of anyone else.”

“If your job was to protect the vault, why wouldn’t you immediately hand it over to the military?” Chloe asked, and James was surprised she was the first one to ask the question. “Isn’t that who you work for, Bishop?” There was a cutting edge to her words.

They had followed Tom onto the first side road, which was already heading up a wooded hill, and they were clear of any houses at the moment. Bishop stopped in the middle of the road so he could address the whole group and James watched his dad with a strange sense of detachment. It was as if the whole situation was too surreal to be happening.

“When I first got to Mercy, the kids were still my first priority, and then finding out the full extent of what had happened,” Bishop said, glancing at Chloe.  “By the time I was ready to make my way back to my post at The Farm, I got the second radio working and discovered Hicks was already there. At that point, we were getting word of the civilian attacks carried out by the military. Hicks had reports of unrest among several different factions, so we decided it would be in the nation’s best interest to sit on The Farm until we knew who was going to end up in power.”

“I think that was the right move.” Senator Jenson was the first to speak, and James wasn’t expecting her reaction. “These vaults are incredibly valuable. We can’t let them become part of a power struggle or else we might end up losing everything. Montgomery has to be stopped. He’ll use it as a way to maintain control over the population and would literally have the ability to choose who lives and dies. No one man should ever have that authority.”

The sound of horses approaching at a gallop caused the whole group to turn and look up the road. Both Lucas and Jay began to bring their ARs around until James waved them off. The last thing they needed was to get into an unwarranted shootout with a local.

“Ethan!” Tom shouted as two riders came into view. One of them was the same young man James met at the shelter, who he remembered was Tom’s son. The boy had been reaching for a rifle kept in a scabbard on his saddle. James assumed it was normally used for hunting, but it was obvious the teen had no qualms about facing off against any potential threat.

“We heard the exchange on the radio,” the other rider answered. He was a large, muscular Hispanic man, and was holding a radio.

“We’re okay, Chief,” Danny offered, and then looked at Ethan as he pulled up on an impressive black-and-white horse. “But we appreciate the gesture.”

“Whoa!” Ethan exclaimed while pointing at James. “You’re the dude who took care of Dillinger for us.” He looked at the five other uniformed, armed soldiers, and his smile faltered as he shifted in his saddle to face his dad.

“We’re good here,” Tom confirmed. “We’re all headed to the ranch. It would be better if we hold off on explaining everything until then.”

Ethan smiled again and looked down at Chloe. “Want a ride?” The young girl reached up and he easily pulled her into the saddle with him. The horse turned in a circle as the teen first gestured to James, and then addressed the rest of the group. He said the one thing that could unequivocally bring them all together in that moment. “When was the last time any of you had a good steak?”

As he watched the reaction of his men, and the camaraderie that was already expanding, it began to make sense to James. How his dad and Tom were already connected to each other, and to Mercy. They had all been on a collision course without knowing it.

“Call it fate, or whatever you want, but we’re obviously all here for a reason,” James said. He looked around at the unusual collection of people in the middle of a country road already being reclaimed by nature. “Let’s not waste it.”

Chapter 16

TOM

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

The unplanned dinner included their large group of sixteen, as well as Tom’s mom, Sam, and the other nine volunteers Chief Martinez was a part of. They used up most of the beef he’d set aside, though it was more than worth it. After everyone seemed to accept the explanation that the senator and her entourage were seeking refuge after their helicopter ran out of gas, there was nothing but good cheer and laughter. Tom used his pull as mayor to waive the quarantine protocol, claiming their two-day isolation during their hike was acceptable since they hadn’t encountered anyone else.

The sheriff and his deputy took the volunteers back to town in the wagon as soon as they were done eating. It gave Tom the opportunity to catch his mom and Sam up on some details before making plans for the night, with the promise of a thorough conversation once everyone was settled.

“Tom, do you copy?”

Tom winced before unhooking the radio from his belt. By then, Sheriff Waters would have stopped and had a long conversation with Patty at City hall, where she would be preparing most of the night for the celebration the next day. She’d already radioed them several times for more information and he knew she wasn’t going to be satisfied with what the sheriff told her.

“Go ahead, Patty,” he said into the radio without any enthusiasm. He just hoped she’d remember that there were several other people listening to them.

“Sheriff Waters just left. I’ll see you when you get here bright and early tomorrow and we’ll have a nice, long talk. I have a few questions for you.”

“I’m sure you do,” he muttered, before keying up the radio. “Received.” He figured it was best not to give any existing gossip more fuel than necessary, so he held off on saying anything else. However, he’d be sure to remind Patty in the morning that she was the one who basically forced him into the Mayor position.

“Thanks for the tents,” James said as he approached with two bottles of beer in his hands.

Tom was happy for the distraction, and took one of the bottles. He’d been busy working on getting a fire going in the backyard fire pit. It was already getting dark and the temperature was quickly dropping, plus it always seemed the best conversations were held over a campfire.

“No problem. If you end up needing more sleeping bags or anything else, all the camping gear is stored in the same place as the tents, in the barn.”

James gave a nod, picked up an ax, and began chopping wood from a nearby pile. He easily split the pieces with a one-handed swing, while drinking the beer. His men were all in the field behind the barn, setting up a couple of tents for them to stay in. It was the best form of security Tom could have, so when the three volunteers showed up after dinner to stand guard, he’d sent them home.

Grace ran up and licked at his face as Tom bent down to blow on the flame he’d started. Laughing, he looked around for Danny. The dog’s appearance was a sure sign that she was close by.

Sure enough, she was just stepping off the back porch and headed their way, a fresh, smaller bandage on her head. “Is it story time yet?” she asked, looking at both Tom and James. His mom and Sam were with her, looking a little apprehensive. “Bishop went to find Ethan and Chloe,” Danny explained. “I guess Crissy is going to stay in town tonight to help Patty.”

Tom patted a stump near him for her to sit down, and then gestured at the box full of bottles that Sam was carrying. “You found my stash?” he teased.

“I put these in the creek earlier. I didn’t think you’d mind,” Sam answered, setting the box down with a rattle of glass. Removing one, he raised it toward James. “I expect full disclosure now.”

James dropped the ax and approached the fire, exchanging his empty bottle for a fresh one. “You were already going to get it,” he promised. He pivoted toward Tom, looking even more intimidating in the growing firelight. “I told my men to dig in for the night, and we’ll be patrolling the area near the main field and trail.”

“I appreciate that,” Tom said, feeling more at ease than he had in a long time. Even though he knew there was a looming threat from Dillinger and perhaps the military itself, he finally felt like enough of the pieces of the puzzle were coming together. With all of them working on it, maybe they could get a clear view of what they were up against.

“Where’s the senator?” James asked, addressing Sandy. “She needs to be a part of this conversation.”

Sandy chose a stump in between Danny and Sam and then waved a hand towards the house behind them. “I got her settled into the girls’ room and she said something about making herself feel human again before meeting us out here in a few minutes. My guess is that involves both the clean clothes and bottle of wine I gave her.”

Tom chuckled and tossed another log on the fire, building it up until it provided plenty of light around the firepit. Just as he figured, Senator Jenson and his mom had hit it off immediately.

Lightning flickered to the east, though it was silent, which only made it more eerie. The alternating hot days and cold nights followed by bizarre storms was beginning to at least become a little predictable. Of course, as soon as Tom thought he had it figured out, it was bound to change again.

Tom saw James stiffen before he even heard the footsteps approaching, and he looked away from the sky to see Hicks and Bishop leading Ethan and Chloe over from the barn. Tom chose to assume that they were covered in hay because they’d been working on stacking the last of the bales. Still, he’d have a talk with Ethan later, just to make sure.

As they all got situated, Senator Jenson finally joined them, shooing Sam over so she could sit next to his mom. She appeared very sober and cleaner in the borrowed clothes. “Let’s get this party started,” the senator said as she sat down, rubbing her hands together with enthusiasm. Sandy offered her a beer, but she shook her head. “Thanks, but only water for me the rest of the night. I’ve decided I need to be clearheaded for this.”

The fire snapped and flared between them as they all listened in rapt fascination while James described Cheyenne Mountain, Mount Weather, and the various missions ordered by General Montgomery. Although James explained the Survivor List, and Bishop gave more details on the seed vault, Tom still had plenty of questions. He could feel things speeding up and that Senator Jenson and James were now inexplicably a part of their journey.

While Tom had always suspected Bishop was withholding things, he was shocked to discover who the man really was and what he was involved in. It was hard for Tom to reconcile his feelings toward him. While Bishop had been a huge help to both the farm and town, the look on his mom’s face made it difficult for him to be too appreciative. She obviously didn’t know and had to be struggling with her own emotions. The only reason Tom didn’t take his chances with the guy in another attempt to throw him out was because he believed Bishop when he said he was only doing what he thought was best for everyone involved. However, it was clear that the vault and their ability to access it was both a blessing and a curse.

“How did this general know about the seed vault?” Sam asked. He was understandably ecstatic when he first found out about the seeds, but was smart enough to quickly grasp the danger of it.

“He was part of the initial review board for the project,” Bishop explained. “After it was approved, his involvement was over, which is why he doesn’t know where they are. Nearly everyone involved was kept blind to every other aspect of it, other than what their specific assignment was.”

“Do you know a Dr. Watson?” James asked.

Bishop’s head snapped up and he looked at his son with enough apprehension that Tom leaned forward to hear the answer. “How do you know that name?”

James frowned at his dad. “She was the first asset from the Survivor List we recovered.”

Bishop stood and stared out at the deepening darkness, his concern palpable. “She’s at Cheyenne Mountain with General Montgomery?”

“Last I heard. What’s the matter, Dad?” James stood with him and crossed his arms over his chest, reminding Tom of a grizzly bear.

Shaking his head as if to rid himself of something, Bishop sat back down and gestured for James to do the same. “I might have been naïve to think I could keep the vault hidden. Dr. Watson was the lead geneticist on the project. We met several times, to go over the specs on the storage designs. She was never directly on-site, but the woman is smart. It wouldn’t be hard for her to figure out, geographically, the region the three vaults are in.”

“There’s not a whole lot out here,” James replied.

“And Mercy is already on their radar,” Tom said, feeling his unease growing.

“Can they get inside?” Danny asked. “I mean, if they find the vault. How hard is it to get in?”

“It can withstand a direct hit from a nuke, and there are only a handful of people with access,” Bishop said, looking again at James. “The president and top twelve successors, who are currently all presumed dead. Otherwise, just myself, two other top officials who are also likely gone…and James.”

“Yeah,” James said with some sarcasm directed at Hicks. “I already found out about that. It’s some science fiction-like contraption you have to breathe on.”

“Cool,” Chloe said, speaking for the first time. Other than glaring at Bishop, Tom hadn’t heard her say much the whole afternoon.

“James was my failsafe,” Bishop said, spreading his hands. “I knew that if anything were to happen, if anyone could track me or this project down, it would be him.”

“I’d say you were right,” Hicks said.

“So, where do we go from here?” Senator Jenson asked, interrupting the growing tension. “What’s done is done, and at this point we have no control over General Montgomery and what he does or doesn’t know. The reality is that if Montgomery has the backing of the joint commanders behind him, I don’t even know if my reinstating a civilian government will have any effect.”

“Is that a possibility?” Sandy asked, her eyes wide.

“I’m working on it,” Jenson answered with a wink.

Tom’s eyes narrowed as he studied the politician with a new perspective. There might still be more questions than answers, but some things were definitely becoming clearer to him. “So we keep you safe until that has a chance to play out.”

James shifted on his stump to face Tom and made a grunting noise, which he took as a sign of agreement. “We also need to keep you two alive,” Tom added, gesturing to both James and Bishop. “That’s why the access was designed that way, right? You have to be alive to breathe on it.”

Bishop smiled then. “Yes, it was, and that is one aspect of the project that Montgomery is also aware of.”

“That gives us a strong bargaining chip,” Hicks stated. “I mean, if it comes down to that, we let Montgomery know where you are, Bishop. He can’t risk doing anything that could kill you, and he doesn’t know James has access.”

James turned and gave Hicks a look that made Tom smile. It was obvious the two men didn’t get along, but he thought the huge man was about to hug Hicks. The idea that they had an upper hand with something so valuable gave them the opportunity to move from being completely defensive, to the ones making the demands. If they handled things right, it might be just what the senator needed to shift the power.

Danny leaned into him then, and held tightly to his arm. “It helps knowing that it was worth it.”

Turning, he wrapped his arms around her, not caring what sort of comments or questions it might provoke from the others. “What do you mean?” he asked, her thick black hair soft against his cheek.

Tilting her head up, she pulled back enough to see his face. “That everything we went through, Tom, especially at the FEMA shelter, was for a reason. This isn’t just about Mercy anymore.”

As Danny rested her forehead against his chest, Tom felt the bandages and was reminded again of how close he’d come to losing everything. Was it all worth it? He saw Bishop staring at them through the dancing firelight. His son, against all odds, seated next to him.

Tom agreed with what James had said earlier that day. It was more than a coincidence their paths had already crossed in so many ways. And while Danny was also right that it was becoming bigger than them all, it seemed that first, everything was converging on Mercy.

Chapter 17

CHLOE

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

Chloe kicked at a crooked bale of hay and instantly regretted it as pain shot through her foot. There were only a few of the awkward bundles left to organize, but since Ethan’s dad pulled him aside for a “talk” when they were leaving the bonfire, she decided to finish the work on her own. Chloe had made a promise to Danny to help Tane with the water the next day, so she planned on having the chore totally done that night so they wouldn’t have to mess with it before leaving in the morning.

Everyone else was committed to being at the barbeque setup at the crack of dawn. Even the new arrivals were going in to meet with Patty and the other council members. Tom said something about clearing the air before the festivities, but Chloe really couldn’t care less. She wasn’t in much of a mood for a party anymore.

Why everything in her life had to continuously get turned upside-down just when she was getting used to it, she couldn’t understand. Was it too much to hope for more than two days without some new revelation or confrontation?

“You’re still working on that hay?”

Chloe froze at the sound of Bishop’s voice and didn’t turn around. “Someone has to,” she muttered, kicking the bale again despite the fresh flare of discomfort. He was the last person she wanted to talk to.

When she heard Bishop approaching and saw him reach for the last bale on the ground, she turned on him. “I don’t need your help!” she yelled, yanking the grass from his hands, only to drop it. “Just go up to your secret lair and play with your radio.”

“Chloe—”

“No!” she wailed, startling herself with the anger suddenly coursing through her. “You don’t get to apologize. Not now. Not when the only reason you finally told the truth is because you had to.”

“The truth?” Bishop countered. “You do understand what we’re talking about here, right? Because I know how smart you are, so don’t play stupid with me.”

He wasn’t intimidated by her rage the way most people were, and that only made Chloe more furious. “You never cared about us!” she spat. “You don’t care about any of us. We were just a cover. I’m sure you couldn’t wait to get rid of us.”

Bishop frowned. “You don’t really believe that.”

Chloe took a step back, bumping into the haystack, and put a hand out to steady herself. Thinking back over the first part of the Trek Thru Trouble hike, her face flushed with humiliation at the understanding that none of them were even counselors. That the poor lost souls they were dragging through the mountains were nothing more than a means to an end. Chloe’s shame deepened with the acknowledgement that she’d actually started to fall for their charade, and remembered what Ripley had whispered to her right before she’d left for Helena. That things weren’t what they seemed.

Scoffing, Chloe pushed away from the stacks of straw and staggered past Bishop. “Ripley was a part of this too, wasn’t she?” It was more an accusation than a question and Bishop’s only response was to briefly look away from her. “Well, at least she decided her family was more important than her duty.”

A flash of anger flickered across Bishop’s face and his hands clenched into fists, giving Chloe a brief feeling of satisfaction. “That’s not fair, Chloe. I thought my son was dead, and my daughter-in-law and grandchild were well beyond my reach.”

“Fair?” Chloe made an odd sound between a laugh and a sob. “My parents probably are dead, Bishop. You were supposed to be helping me find them! You made me believe you cared about me! I don’t have any—” A real sob escaped her then, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to smother it.

Bishop was wise enough to not approach her, and instead raised both hands out to her. “You’re right. It was an assignment, but that doesn’t mean the relationships we built weren’t real.”

Chloe looked away. She wanted to believe him. She knew Ethan and Crissy were her friends, and that if she could get herself to think rationally about it, she wasn’t alone. It was just that Bishop had been her one steady port in the storm. Chloe realized, standing there feeling like a part of her was being ripped out, that she’d come to think of Bishop as a father figure. The one person she could trust. The deep betrayal she was experiencing extended beyond the counselor façade and into something that represented so much more.

“My own son grew up never knowing what his dad really did,” Bishop said gently. “My wife died in a car accident while I was overseas on an assignment she knew nothing about. James had to identify her body by himself because I wasn’t there. He was seventeen.”

Chloe’s resolve faltered and she pivoted slowly to face him. She saw the same man she’d had meaningful conversations with for the past month. The raw pain on his normally neutral face made it hard to maintain her resentment, but the ugliness in Chloe that she fought so hard to control wouldn’t be denied. “Is the fact that you did the same thing to your own family supposed to make it okay?”

Bishop flinched, and the familiar feeling of shame came quick on the heels of Chloe’s fury. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, finding it hard to breathe. All of the fight suddenly left her, and Chloe struggled to pull herself out of the darkness of her own mind. She turned to flee, to attempt to run from herself the way she always had before, but strong arms wrapped her up from behind, preventing her escape.

“Not this time, Chloe,” Bishop whispered, close to her ear. “I care too much about you to let you go. We’re in this together for the long haul, kid, so kick me, hit me, bite me. Do whatever it is you need to do to get it off your chest, but I’m not letting you go.”

Sagging, Chloe tried desperately to tap back into her rage. To retreat into the comfort of the numbness it offered. It was so much easier. It didn’t hurt nearly as much. Instead, she turned around and allowed Bishop to hug her as she sobbed. She cried for her mom, for her dad, and all the other people in her life she might never see again. As the tears finally began to subside, Chloe realized that Bishop was still there. He really wasn’t going to leave…and she began to believe that maybe it would be okay.

Chapter 18

EMILY

Banff National Park, Alberta, Canada

Emily was almost certain she was dying.

The tent flap billowed gently in the soft morning breeze, a paradox for what it was hiding inside. Emily watched it move, mesmerized by the fluttering motion and the odd sound of a local bird. What had her father called it? A bitter, or something like that. It made this weird dripping sound followed by a whoop that reminded her of a plunger. Just as Emily started to drift off again, it startled her awake, making her think someone was approaching her through the marshy field nearby until she realized it was only the bird.

Her dad never came back. He promised he would, after finding her mom and younger brother at the nearby town. They had gone there the morning of the power outage to get some more ice and hot dogs. Hot dogs.

Emily’s mouth watered despite her severe dehydration, forcing her to stick her swollen tongue partway out of her mouth so she could smack her lips and swallow painfully. She hadn’t eaten for over a week. Maybe two.

The nineteen-year-old girl had always considered herself to be strong and independent. Normally, that was true, but Emily had fallen apart over the past ten days. She’d been doing all right up until the first big storm. After finally catching a fish, the torrential rain flooded her fire so she was forced to eat it raw. She wasn’t desperate enough then to eat the whole thing. Now? She would have happily slurped down the eyeballs and innards that she’d stupidly tossed aside.

Camping in Banff National Park was a summer trip her mom had wanted to take for years. When her dad announced he could get the two weeks off from work that year, they’d spent hours planning all the details. Emily’s fifteen-year-old brother was just as excited, and he and her dad got new fishing poles as well as the tent. Emily was less than enthused, as she had what she liked to call real-life problems since graduating from high school and entering the harsh world of college. It was only under the threat of being disowned that she finally caved and agreed to go. Her mom would have never done it, but—

Emily blinked slowly as her thoughts muddied and she forgot where she was. When the dusky interior of the tent came back into focus, replacing the safety of the family room, she made a small whimpering sound. She wasn’t home. She would never be home again. She was alone in the tent in a remote campground in the middle of nowhere and no one was coming to help her.

Using the surge of panic to lend her strength, Emily reached out, determined to drag herself outside. Horror quickly mixed in with her other rising emotions as she realized she could barely lift her arm. Her eyes wide, Emily searched for the water bottle and saw it lying a few inches away, empty. She remembered then, sucking down the last few drops sometime during the long night. When was the last time she’d gone to pee?

It was a mistake to stay in the tent. If someone wandered by, they would assume the campground was abandoned. Although it was a remote site, there had been a few other campers near the lake when they first arrived. That was one of the reasons her father had her stay there when he decided to go find the rest of their family. He thought it would be safer for Emily at the campground than in town, since they had no idea what would be going on there.

The first week hadn’t been so bad, aside from the unbearable weight of not knowing what had happened to everyone. Several times, Emily had taken her backpack and started down the gravel road, determined to go find them herself. However, each time she ended up panicking after going for miles without seeing another person, until she finally turned around. The farther she got from the false safety of the tent, the more intense her fear became, until she couldn’t overcome it. The nearest town was more than forty miles away and Emily had no way of knowing what she might encounter on the way. Besides, back then, she still had some food left and plenty of water. The fire was going and she was confident she could get by for weeks, if she had to.

By the time Emily realized her mistake, she was too weak to leave and the other campers had disappeared the first few days after the event. She was alone. She would die alone.

Normally, as soon as the sun came out the tent would start to warm up, but it was different that morning. Emily shivered uncontrollably and she suspected her body had lost the ability to regulate its temperature. That was something she’d learned about in one of her pre-nursing classes.

A tear slid down her cheek, the precious fluid cutting a trail through the dirt before soaking into the pillowcase. Her vision blurring, Emily once again thought she might have been lying in her bed at home, and she clung to the illusion that time. Was that her mom lying next to her?

With the last of her strength, Emily balled her mother’s favorite sweatshirt in her hand, forgetting how she had pulled it over her head the night before to help block out the cold. “Mommy…” she whispered into the fabric, taking a shuddering breath. “I’ll be home soon.”

Chapter 19

PATTY

City Center, Mercy, Montana

“Here, use this one, Sergeant—” Patty hesitated in front of the homemade brick grill, trying to remember the soldier’s name.

“You can just call me Jay,” the young man said with a grin. “And while I’m happy to help you out, I can’t guarantee any of the steaks I cook will be edible.”

Patty waved off his concern before handing Jay a lighter. After the last town dinner, they’d swapped out the metal barbeques for the much larger wood-burning grills. She was rather proud of the craftsmanship, and they should last for years to come. “I have a feeling there won’t be too many critics here today.”

They’d just finished an early-morning meeting with the city leaders, where they’d all unanimously welcomed Senator Jenson and the 1st Force Recon Unit. Patty had a private talk with Tom beforehand where he filled her in on the seed vault, a detail omitted from the rest of the council members. She understood the need to withhold the information for the time being, but it was a good reminder of why she stepped down in the first place. Patty was in her element ordering everyone around in the town square. She was happy to leave the political maneuverings and life-or-death decisions to Tom.

“Patty!” Melissa walked across the square with way too much purpose for the early hour.

Patty knew the doctor missed the meeting due to some sort of medical emergency, though she hadn’t gotten any details. “Is everything okay?”

Melissa nodded, a large smile spreading across her face. “Yes! Carrie delivered a healthy baby girl a couple of hours ago.”

Her chest swelling with joy, Patty hugged Melissa and then clapped her hands together. “Something else to celebrate today!”

“I’m picking up a few things for Carrie from the clinic, but I should be back in time for the food,” Melissa explained, already walking backwards. “I’ll see you later!”

Her step lighter, Patty made her way across the stage and towards the other cooking area that was basically in the alley behind City Hall. She needed to make sure the two soldiers had found the tasks she’d assigned them, which was overseeing boiling corn, potatoes, and eggs. The rest of the 1st Force Recon team were on an extra water-run to the river. Patty didn’t want to use the purified spring water for cooking.

It was going to take large amounts of water to boil all the food necessary to feed upwards of five hundred people. They expected a good turnout for the Fourth of July celebration, and not only because of the promised meat. It was close to a month since the gamma-ray burst changed all of their lives, and their emotional needs were now becoming just as important as their physical. Patty knew they could throw as much food and comfort as possible at the people of Mercy, but without the proper sense of community and hope, none of that would matter. Especially with the threat of a military takeover looming. A defeated town might welcome the intrusion.

That was where Patty saw herself as most valuable, aside from helping with the medical needs at the clinic. She would do her best to work as the glue that helped hold the community spirit together. Patty had lived in Mercy for most of her life and loved the town and the people in it. The complete isolation they’d been forced into was something they needed to embrace and learn to cope with, and she knew the best way to do that was to focus on the people who remained. Together, they could accomplish whatever needed to be done, but only if they didn’t lose sight of what it was that made them call Mercy home in the first place.

“Riders!”

Patty had been staring at her feet as she walked while reminiscing, and she jerked to a stop at the shout from the soldier she’d been approaching. He was pointing down the alley, and sure enough, there were two riders charging up the side street.

Tom appeared from behind her and he paused long enough to fill her in. “It’s the returning Pony Express riders we sent to check out the station. South gate radioed they were on their way in with some news.”

As they neared, it was obvious to Patty that the news wasn’t good. They looked utterly exhausted, dirty, and their horses were spent.

“The station is gone,” one of them shouted without any preamble, and Patty realized the filthy man was their main rider, Jed. “Taken over by a bunch of soldiers.”

Tom exchanged a look with Bishop, who had followed him into the alley. “Were you able to learn anything about who they are or what they’re doing?” Tom asked. He held the horse steady while the man slid to the ground, barely able to stand on his own.

“No,” Jed said apologetically. “I’ll be honest with ya, Tom. Those guys scared the crap outta me. Had to be at least a couple dozen, all armed and with horses. They meant business and I have a family to take care of.”

“It’s okay, Jed,” Tom said, placing a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you to take any extra risks. We all appreciate you bringing back this news, though. Now we know who Caleb is really talking to,” he added, turning to Bishop.

Patty watched the conversation with a growing sense of unease. It was safe to assume Dillinger was behind the attack on the station. Not only was he getting closer to Mercy, but he’d effectively cut off their supply train. The medication and other first aid provisions were already dangerously low. Without the ability to scavenge or trade for more, they were going to be vulnerable to various medical issues and the subsequent deaths, for those with conditions requiring treatment.

“It looked like they were getting ready for something though,” the other rider added, still on her mount. “Horses were being packed up and they even had a wagon out with a bunch of supplies in it. We rode hard for two days to get word back to you.” The woman glanced around at the group in the alley, and then the row of large pots cooking over the open fires. “You still doing the barbeque thing today? I’m assuming you made it back in time to stop those outlaws?”

Patty realized the riders had no idea what had transpired over the past three days and were likely half-starved and sleep-deprived. Looking around, she spotted Crissy pushing Trevor in a wheelchair. “Crissy!” she called, waving the girl over. “Take these two and find them some food.”

Crissy turned in their direction, laboring to get Trevor across the long grass. “Sure thing, so long as we can eat too?”

“Sure,” Patty agreed absently as she stared at Trevor. The teen with his splinted leg sticking out reminded her that Russell had never showed at the clinic the day before and she hadn’t seen him anywhere that morning. “Crissy, was Father Rogers at the clinic when you left?”

Crissy shrugged. “I haven’t seen him in a couple of days, maybe three. Why?”

Patty’s brows creased as she shook her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter how he chooses to spend his time. Thank you for helping.”

“We’ll take care of the horses,” Tom assured the riders as Patty began to usher Jed away and motioned for the woman to dismount. “Go over to the stables to get some fresh ones to take you home when you’re done eating.”

As Crissy happily complied and began leading the newcomers away, Patty turned back to Tom and Bishop. “Tom, do you think we should still—”

Tom raised a hand to effectively cut her off. “If Dillinger is getting ready to move on us, then it’s all the more reason for us to speak to the town about it. Now, before it happens, Patty. Since we don’t have phones or email, this is the best way to get it done.”

“He’s right,” Bishop added.

Patty was taken aback by the tone of Bishop’s voice. There had been a change in him since his son arrived. The normally somewhat passive man was on edge and it made her even more anxious. “We don’t want to cause a panic,” she pushed, concerned with how the fear might undermine the town.

“The only way we can possibly keep this place from being turned into a FEMA shelter is to get enough people to stand up to them,” Bishop retorted with some heat. “Trying to keep the residents ignorant of what’s going on won’t help. It certainly won’t prevent it from happening here. Dillinger might be willing to kill a couple of farmers here and there who dare to push back, but taking on a whole town is something different. I can’t imagine anyone would give that order, or that enough of his men would follow it.”

Patty wrung her hands together as she looked at Tom, evaluating his reaction. She knew the man well enough to recognize the resolve on his face. Nodding slowly, she did her best to stay focused on the positive. “Okay, then. There’s still a lot of work to do over the next few hours before everyone starts arriving. Let’s make sure we show them how strong we can be together.”

Turning from the men and horses, Patty concentrated on her breathing. She knew the lack of sleep only added to her state of anxiety. Three hours in the basement while listening to Caleb tap away on his radio wasn’t enough. She only had herself to blame for feeling overwhelmed. Straightening her back, Patty forced herself to walk with more purpose. The role of goodwill ambassador was a self-imposed penance, and one that she would carry out whether she felt like it or not.

Patty headed for the broad front stairs of City Hall. There was something she needed to do.

“Patty!” a grating voice called before she’d reached the second step.

Closing her eyes, Patty set her lips in a thin line. She turned to face Gary’s wife, prepared to defend herself and the new mayor. In spite of riders being sent out to all of the council members’ houses the night before with a notice for the unplanned meeting that morning, Gary hadn’t shown up. Patty assumed it was an intentional stance to silently show his opposition, and now Emma was there to do the real talking for him.

“Have you seen Gary?” Emma asked. She glanced around nervously at all of the activity in the town square. “When he didn’t come home last night, I assumed he was staying in town again, because of all of—this,” she added, flinging her hands around. “Except, now I can’t find him.”

Patty frowned, unsure of how to answer. “Emma, Gary wasn’t very happy with the council after the last meeting yesterday morning, so I haven’t spoken to him since then. Why don’t you try over at The Last Stop?” When Emma scowled at the suggestion that her husband might have spent the night at a bar, Patty sighed. “I only meant that maybe he stopped in for a drink and someone might have seen him or talked to him.”

Emma glared at Patty and stuck her hands on her hips. “If Gary is in that place, it’s only because you drove him there.”

Any other day, Patty might have laughed as she watched Emma stomp off. Instead, the encounter created another layer of disquiet that followed her up the stairs. Once inside the darkened halls of the antiquated building, Patty was more relaxed, and by the time she reached her old office she was smiling again.

Approaching the whiteboard, she was relieved to see that Sam had left her numbers in the top right corner when he’d cleaned his writing off it. Grabbing a marker, Patty’s smile broadened. Finally, with their first successful delivery since the flashpoint, she was able to add to it instead of taking away. She didn’t know if the 1st Force Recon Unit or Senator Jenson were going to stay, but for the time being, she also considered them a part of Mercy.

Using her fingers to rub away the numbers 638, Patty replaced them with 647. They were growing. Mercy was growing, and she would do whatever was necessary to make sure it continued.

Chapter 20

ETHAN

Natural Spring, Mercy, Montana

“We can stay,” Ethan offered. They had just finished getting the second load of water secured and Tane was ready to head out. The only other person helping that morning besides him and Chloe was a woman who worked daily at the spring. “Why don’t you ride into town and help unload?” he said to her with a smile, hoping she’d understand he was trying to prevent Tane from doing too much physical labor. “Then you can make it in time before the barbeque starts.”

“I’d like that,” the woman answered pleasantly with a coy wink to Ethan. “My kids are going to be waiting for me.”

“You sure?” Tane asked from his perch on the wagon as the woman climbed up beside him. “If you want to ride back in too, I don’t mind coming out one more time. I’m sure Danny will save me some food and I can manage the refilling on my own.”

Tane referred to the impressive system Bishop helped design. There were two raised platforms that held containers fastened to a base which slid in and out of the wagon once it was lined up, so you could back right into it. Thanks to a leverage system, it only took two people to operate it, along with the driver. While one of the plastic tubs was being used to deliver water, the other could be refilled. The only downfall was that, in spite of endless troubleshooting, the simple plumbing would constantly lose its siphon due to fluctuations in the spring’s pressure, so the water flow needed to be monitored. They had to refill the empty container Tane had just swapped out so it would be ready for a quick delivery later that night, after the party.

“Go ahead!” Chloe shouted, already waving goodbye. “This won’t take long and we’ll meet you there. Save us a couple of seats at the table.”

As the wagon lumbered away, Ethan watched Chloe skip across the open field to where their horses were tethered, calling to Grace as she went. The retriever had been acting weird all morning, hovering around the horses and sniffing at the ground. Ethan guessed it was due to the incoming storm, but the dog’s restlessness was starting to rub off on him.

Giving Tango an absent pat on the head, Chloe opened her saddle bags and removed what looked like two red scarves. Narrowing his eyes, Ethan couldn’t imagine what she was up to. But that was part of the reason why he liked her. “Hey,” he called out as she returned. “I don’t remember giving you that shirt.”

Chloe looked down innocently at the brown T-shirt with the words “I aim to misbehave” on it. “Oh, really? Pretty sure you did.”

Ethan emphatically shook his head. “It’s my best Firefly shirt,” he said, referencing their mutually favorite T.V. show.

“I know,” Chloe said unapologetically. “Here.”

Still frowning though not really mad, Ethan took the roughly cut scarf. Chloe must have made it from a scrap of one of his grandma’s sewing projects, causing his curiosity to deepen. Turning it over in his hands, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw the logo on it. It was made from a crude piece of colored, cut-out cardboard that was glued on, and it was the coolest thing ever. The green triangle with yellow stripes and blue star was the emblem for the rebel soldiers from the same show, called Browncoats. Red scarves were also originally part of their basic uniforms. Ethan immediately got the reference and how it might apply to their current situation in Mercy, what with being rising rebels and all. “So, why Browncoats and not the Rebel Alliance?” he teased, not willing to let her off so easily.

Chloe rolled her eyes as she dramatically draped the scarf around her neck. “I considered it, but decided the brown robes would be too restrictive if we ever really got into a fight.”

Ethan put his own scarf on and nodded thoughtfully. “True, but not all Jedi’s wear robes.”

They continued their debate as they went back to where the container was sitting and began the process of filling it. Ethan was glad she was in such a good mood. After the night before, he didn’t know what to expect.

Once his dad was done with his “trust” lecture and Ethan convinced him he was jumping to the wrong conclusions about his alone time with Chloe, he’d gone back to the barn to help finish up with the hay. Chloe and Bishop were in the middle of a pretty heated conversation, so he’d made himself scarce. He knew they had things to work out and since he wasn’t really a part of it, thought it would be best not to bring it up unless Chloe offered first.

Ethan wasn’t sure if it was a normal response, but he didn’t really care one way or another about Bishop, James, and the whole political mess with the senator. The only thing that interested him was the seed vault. Since Bishop was basically the reason they knew about it, he was glad the guy was some secret-agent dude. It meant Sam would have his indoor gardens, and the rest of them would be eating next year. Oh…and Dillinger. He also hoped having the recon guys there meant they could trounce the jerk whenever he showed up.

“Earth to Ethan,” Chloe sang while moving her hand back and forth in front of his face. “We need to pump it again, space cadet.”

Offering her a crooked grin, Ethan jumped down from where they stood on the platform. A very basic handpump was rigged up, connected to flexible plastic tubing that trailed from the bottom of the filtration system. Grabbing the pump, he got the water flowing again and then studied the level in the large plastic tub. “It’s already close to half-filled,” he said, scrambling back up next to Chloe. Licking his lips, he made a dramatic smacking sound. “I’m ready for another round of steaks.”

Chloe smiled and then raised her eyebrows playfully at him. “How about a side trip first?” She gestured over her shoulder toward the entrance to the mine. “You still owe me a tour.”

Ethan hesitated, and glanced up at the clouds that had continued to grow in intensity over the past two days. “Maybe,” he muttered, not sure why he suddenly felt so uneasy. It was as if the atmosphere shifted like before with the last storm, causing a heaviness in the air and a prickling along his spine. He looked to make sure his rifle was in its scabbard on Tango and noticed Grace was still pacing, adding to his foreboding. Turning back, he found Chloe watching him expectantly and he tried to shrug it off. “I hope it doesn’t rain on the party.”

Chapter 21

DANNY

City Center, Mercy, Montana

“What I’m asking from each of you is a commitment to work together!”

The crowd around Danny cheered again. The response to Tom’s speech was incredibly positive and he had to yell to be heard beyond the courtyard and out onto Main Street, where the population of Mercy overflowed.

Danny was amazed by the turnout. She thought Patty had been going overboard when she saw all the tables lining the sidewalks of Main Street, but now she wasn’t sure if it was going to be enough. To see so many people thriving in spite of what had happened was truly inspiring.

“If you haven’t already been assigned something to work on, please see the people stationed along the side of the town square. There are signs posted identifying the various programs and projects.” Tom gestured to the tables and then raised both of his hands over his head. “Most importantly, because of the actions of the military I’ve already described to you, we need anyone willing to act as part of a town guard. Especially those of you with any military, police, or security experience.”

A murmur rose through the throng of people gathered and Danny could feel an element of fear thread its way into the excitement. She understood the apprehension, and figured it might not be a bad thing. Fear had a way of compelling people to act.

Danny spotted her dad moving through the crowd, his head several inches taller than most of the people around him. Waving a hand, she jumped up and down to get his attention, wincing at the pain it provoked. “Over here, Dad!” she shouted during a lull. She saw him pull up at the water station earlier, right before the speech started, and was glad he didn’t miss all of it.

Tom raised his hands again and the hum subsided as everyone strained to listen. “Mercy will be free!” Tom smiled as several people shouted in agreement. “Just as our forefathers guaranteed our independence from tyranny nearly two hundred and fifty years ago, we will remain united and free!”

Danny wasn’t sure if Tom had intended for that to be the end of his speech, but as people cheered and applauded, it was impossible for him to say anything further. She was glad Ethan had talked her into letting Grace go with him and Chloe to the spring; the retriever would have been overwhelmed by all of the people and noise. Thinking of the two, she looked around, wondering where they were.

“The kids back?” she hollered to her dad while leaning in close to him.

Tane nodded, putting an arm around her shoulders so they could talk. “They should be here soon. Let’s go find our seats while Tom finishes his rally.”

Danny grinned at her dad, glad to see him making jokes. She didn’t know how he could be so calm in light of everything that was going on, including being on the last dose of his heart medicine. Melissa was working on coming up with some natural supplements to help offset the symptoms that were bound to show up with a vengeance, though it did little to calm her nerves. It was imperative they come up with a way to find it, in addition to all the other meds that were needed.

Two guitar players took Tom’s place on stage and they began a rendition of a popular, patriotic country song. Danny moved to meet him at the foot of the platform, but Sheriff Waters ran up and cut her off, radio in hand.

“We have a sighting,” he announced, not bothering to try and keep it a secret. “A lookout positioned just beyond the south gate. Estimates a good two dozen armed soldiers on horseback.”

One of the guitar players must have overhead because he faltered in his strumming and stared down at them in alarm. “The soldiers are here already?” he shouted.

Tom sighed and rushed back out onto the stage. “Everyone, stay calm! Please, remain here and we’ll do our best to take care of this.”

Danny fell in behind Tom and his entourage as they pushed their way through the swarm of people. Once on Main Street, movement became easier, and a deputy waited for them with their horses a few blocks away.

Danny rested a hand on Lilly’s neck as she watched James and his men get organized. Apparently, they didn’t go anywhere without their gear close by because they were already looking like G.I. Joe action figures. When the soldiers opted to stay on foot and began walking down the road, Tom led Lilly by the reins so he and Danny could continue talking.

Once they neared the roadblock, he became increasingly antsy. “I’m not even going to try and tell you guys what to do,” Tom said to Danny as he glanced over her shoulder.

Turning, Danny saw that Sandy and Senator Jenson were catching up to them and she grinned back at Tom. “Good idea. I don’t think any of us would listen.”

“Will you at least stay back and let Bishop and James try to do the talking first?” he said, including his mom in the conversation as she pulled Senator Jenson along by the arm. He gestured to the politician. “We don’t want to show all of our cards up front.”

“I’m more than happy to let the guys flex their muscles at each other for a while,” the senator replied, and Danny raised her eyebrows at the woman.

“Senator, I’ve met Dillinger,” Danny cautioned. “This isn’t a guy who’s all show and no bite.”

“Unfortunately, Danny is right,” James added, slapping a magazine into place on his assault rifle. “A show of force up front is the best way to approach him.”

Danny looked at the six soldiers and knew they would be outnumbered at least three to one. Hicks also had an AR, but Tom, Bishop, the Sheriff, and his two deputies only had pistols or rifles.

“Chief Martinez and Sam are working on rounding up some help,” Sheriff Waters said while climbing onto his horse. “But if what you’re saying is true, James, it would be best if we’re all waiting for them at the gate when they get there.”

“Give me your radio,” Danny said to Waters while holding out her hand. When the sheriff glanced at Tom before complying, she was unable to hide her annoyance. “You don’t need two radios with you! We’ll hang back out of sight, and if the corporal decides he wants to have a conversation with our senator here, you can let us know.”

Tom, clearly relieved to have his mom and Danny not pushing to be a part of the confrontation, took Waters radio when he offered it, and handed it to her. As her hand wrapped around it, instead of letting go, he pulled her towards him. Kissing her briefly, he then pressed his forehead against hers, sharing the same breath with her for a moment.

“Be careful,” she whispered. “And I’ve got your back,” she added, shaking the radio at him as he pulled away.

Sandy set a hand on her shoulder as the men continued down the road, both on foot and horseback. She appreciated the small gesture of support. Sandy was the type of woman Danny imagined her own mother would be, if not for the addiction that took over her life. Reaching up to grasp Sandy’s hand, she was going to say thank you but was stopped by a panicked voice on the radio.

“North gate to…anyone. We have a large group of soldiers approaching. We—”

“North gate, repeat your traffic!” Tom’s voice squawked.

Danny watched as the group stopped in the road, some distance from their goal. Tom was twisted around in his saddle and looking back in their direction. Had they been tricked somehow, and Dillinger was at the north end of town, instead of the south?

Then, the unmistakable sound of horses approaching began to rumble from nearby, growing louder by the second. Confused, Danny took several steps in Tom’s direction, and squinted at the guards standing near the gate a couple hundred feet away. First, there was a plume of dust and then the first row of horses came into view, all ridden by soldiers in combat gear.

“I’ve got a sergeant here who says he’s from the Malmstrom base.”

Danny stared at the radio in horror as the realization of what was happening became apparent.

The radio clicked again and the guard’s broken voice gave confirmation. “Says he’s here by order of a General Montgomery and we’re to surrender the town.”

Danny looked first at Sandy and then Senator Jenson, holding the radio out like it had turned into a snake in her hands. “We’re surrounded.”

Chapter 22

TOM

South Gate, Mercy, Montana

Tom’s initial reaction was humiliation at being so easily overrun. He wanted to be angry with Bishop and James for not anticipating the move and countering it before it had happened. However, as he watched Dillinger riding toward them, he accepted the fact that they were in an impossible situation.

James and his men had arrived less than twenty-four hours ago. They’d already increased the lookouts and guards in the town and were actively recruiting their own army. There was nothing else they could have done in such a short amount of time.

“Dillinger.” James spat the name like it was something vile and took a step forward so that he was in front of everyone.

Tom dismounted and withdrew his rifle from its scabbard before he and Bishop took a position to either side of James. Tom waited in apprehension as the corporal continued his approach. Raising the radio, he said the only thing he could think of to the guard at the north gate. “Tell the sergeant to standby. We’re meeting with Corporal Dillinger now.”

Bishop nodded at Tom in approval. “Tell him we’ll advise them of the corporal’s orders. That’ll buy us some more time.”

“More time for what?” Tom asked, but keyed the radio up before getting an answer. “I’ll advise you of the corporal’s orders.” He shrugged at Bishop as he clipped the radio back onto his jeans. It didn’t matter what the response was.

He glanced over his shoulder to reassure himself that Danny and his mom were out of direct view. Danny must have been watching him closely, because she raised a hand when he turned, confirming they were in the shadows on the porch of a small, abandoned real estate office. He felt some relief knowing that Ethan and Chloe were at least far removed from it at the spring.

They had left the buildings of Main Street behind and now were primarily surrounded by wilderness and very few structures. However, Tom was painfully aware of how close the water station and City Hall were. It wouldn’t take long for Dillinger’s troops to reach all of it if they were overpowered.

“Tom, do you copy? Tom!” Sam’s voice was barely audible as he yelled into the radio.

Tom snagged the radio without looking away from the road and the soldiers coming closer to the gate separating them. “What is it, Sam?”

“We’ve got some reinforcements for you. We’re on our way.”

Uncertain exactly what Sam meant by reinforcements, Tom tried to think clearly about the best way to use the extra help. “Split anyone you’ve got between us and the north gate. Out.” He could hear more chatter but ignored it. It was too late to do anything else.

“Whoa,” Dillinger called out as he pulled his horse to stop and held a hand up to direct his men to do the same. “What have we here?”

It was obvious to Tom that the corporal was surprised to be met with any kind of organized resistance, but he still had a smirk on his face. It was as if he found the whole thing amusing. Tom felt his cheeks burning and it was all he could do not to shove his way past James and pull the arrogant man off his horse.

“Master Sergeant James Campbell, 1st Force Reconnaissance,” James barked, sounding steady and dangerous. “State your business here, Corporal.”

Dillinger shifted in his saddle and studied the sergeant like he was an oddity. Even from a distance of more than twenty feet, Tom could see the mockery on the corporal’s face.  “I didn’t think we’d be meeting again so soon, Sergeant. How about we drop the formalities and be frank with each other? You decided to take a little field trip.” Dillinger wrinkled his nose at the trees and visible landscape. “Can’t say it would have been my first choice.”

“The sergeant gave you an order!” Bishop snapped.

Tom was startled by the iron authority Bishop emanated and he stole a glance at the older man. He was standing rigid in what Tom assumed was “at attention” in military jargon, and his gaze was fixed on Dillinger. He left no doubt, even without a uniform, that he outranked everyone there.

Dillinger sat a little straighter and took a moment to put it together. Tom had to give him credit for taking it all in stride. “You must be the elusive Colonel Campbell.” He smiled broadly. “I can see the family resemblance now. Well, that’s going to make things so much easier. Good job finding your father, Sergeant. I assume the senator is somewhere nearby, too?”

“Let’s cut through the bullshit so everyone here is clear about some things,” Tom shouted. He was pretty sure he heard both James and Bishop grunt in disapproval as he marched past them, but this was his town and Tom wasn’t going to play games. He certainly wasn’t going to play Dillinger’s game.

“My name is Thomas Miller and I’m the mayor of Mercy. This man behind me is Sheriff Waters.” Ignoring Dillinger, Tom focused on each of the men fanned out behind him on horseback. He recognized a few of them from FEMA Shelter M3. That was good. “This is a community with a population of more than six hundred people and it’s my responsibility to speak on their behalf. I’m informing you that we do not need, nor do we require your assistance. Based on your violent takeovers of other towns and farms, you’re not welcome here.”

Dillinger scoffed, but several of his soldiers turned to look at each other with uncertainty. Tom figured it was one thing to overreact in the heat of a fight and kill a random farmer or two, but to summarily gun down a mayor and sheriff protecting their town? These were men and women who also had families and Tom was praying they still had some integrity left.

Dillinger slowly nodded, tsking at Tom as he slid a leg over and dropped down from his horse. “I gotta hand it to you, Miller. You got some steel ones. Unfortunately, all it’s going to accomplish is getting you killed.” Any remnant of humor left the corporal’s face as he took a marked step toward Tom. “You want me to be blunt? Okay, here’s how this is going to go: you and your posse are going to lay down your weapons and allow these troops to carry out our orders. If you don’t comply, you will be shot. Your farm will be destroyed, and I will see to it personally that your family is killed in the middle of Main Street as an example to the rest of your precious town. Is that clear enough for you?”

Tom clenched his teeth against the surge of rage and adrenaline, his nostrils flaring. He heard James raise his rifle just before the rush of blood in his ears muted everything else out. Grunting in frustration, Tom lost his inner battle and lunged forward as Bishop and Waters both grabbed at his arms. Realizing he was playing right into Dillinger’s plan, Tom allowed his friends to drag him back as the corporal began to laugh.

“You don’t want to do this,” James said loudly, ignoring Tom’s outburst and addressing the group of soldiers. “Your orders aren’t as clear as you all believe them to be. You might outnumber us, but I’ll guarantee my men will be cleaning you off their boots at the end of the day if this goes sideways.”

Dillinger’s smile faltered under the validity of James’s statement, and he eyed the rifle that was pointed in his direction. Before he could come up with a response, the unexpected sound of a distant helicopter began to echo through the valley.

“I’m good,” Tom muttered, shrugging off Bishop and the sheriff. “But we need to end this.”

As some of the soldiers became distracted and began to look around for the source, Tom heard another unusual sound coming down the street from the direction of Mercy. Not wanting to turn away from the ongoing stand-off, he was startled when Danny called out from close by.

“We’ve got some more people that have something to say about all of this,” she announced.

Dillinger was the first to react, his smile turning to a scowl. He began yelling as an orange flash of lightning from the looming thunderstorm punctuated his words. “This doesn’t change your orders! Do not stand down. Mercy will surrender to us!”

Confused, Tom turned enough to look behind him and was startled to see Danny and Sam leading a group of at least fifty men and women. They all held a variety of weapons ranging from pistols and rifles, to shovels and picks. Adding to the baffling scene was the party attire some of them wore. Their red-white-and-blue shirts and hats made the assembly look like they were marching in a parade, rather than into battle.

Sam pointed his shovel at Dillinger and then waved it over his head. “You’re going to have to go through all of us first!”

Chapter 23

JAMES

Master Sergeant, US Marines, 1st Force Reconnaissance

South gate, Mercy, Montana

James didn’t like the odds, but his team was used to being outnumbered and with their backs against the wall. If it weren’t for the civilians in harm’s way, he would’ve already opened fire. He appreciated what the townspeople were doing, though the reality was that they were likely only making the situation more convoluted and with the same outcome in the end. Dillinger wasn’t there to negotiate. He was out for blood, and James was more than willing to give him what he wanted.

Dillinger was on the verge of reaching for his own weapon when the Huey came into view. The corporal’s demeanor instantly changed, and it was obvious he knew who was making the insane landing on the narrow road. Furious, Dillinger grabbed at his horse to keep it from running away as dirt and debris flew around them.

James exchanged a knowing look with his father as they all lowered their weapons to the ready position. There weren’t many running helicopters, and one of them was sitting abandoned over thirty miles to the north of them. He could only think of one man who would have the reach to pull off such a stunt.

“Montgomery,” Bishop snarled as The Man in the Mountain himself emerged from the bird, trailing several more armed soldiers behind him.

While most of the troops were still on horseback, they nonetheless attempted to come to attention and salute the general as he made his way toward Dillinger. The corporal, on the other hand, was clearly annoyed and wasn’t trying to hide it.

“General!” Corporal Dillinger barked, finally throwing him a disingenuous salute. “I wasn’t expecting you to oversee this operation in person. I was going to notify you later today of our successful reconnaissance in Mercy.”

The general raised an eyebrow at Dillinger, and James saw a glimmer of hope. Recon? The corporal might be even further outside his scope of command than they’d suspected if he was only supposed to observe and report.

“The same success you had at the Duke Ranch?” Montgomery shot back. The Huey was winding down, making it possible to talk without shouting, though the general’s voice was more than loud enough for everyone to hear. “Or how about the Pony Express station? Because we just came from there, and I have to say your idea of a successful command is perhaps different than mine.”

Dillinger’s face burned red and he had the common sense to accept the general’s words without any argument. Instead, he gestured to Tom and James and the people standing behind them. “Sir, as you can see the quarantine clearly isn’t valid. We’re ready to take control of the town and establish FEMA Shelter M4 and Command Three.”

Montgomery stepped around the barrier and stopped mere feet from James, tugging once at his jacket before focusing his steely gaze on him. “Master Sergeant Campbell, this is going to go one of two ways for you. I’ll even give you a few minutes to think about it. Colonel Campbell,” he continued, pivoting toward Bishop.

As Montgomery spoke his father’s name, Colonel Walsh’s head jerked up and he stared wide-eyed at Bishop. James squinted at the man, trying to measure his reaction. He had to know about the seed vault, and therefore the value of finding his dad alive. As far as Montgomery and his henchmen knew, his dad could be the only person left on the planet capable of opening the vaults and that made him very, very valuable.

“General,” Bishop answered with a brisk nod of his head. “I think we have some things to talk about, and I’d rather not do it this way.”

“Make no mistake,” Montgomery said smoothly, glancing at each of the men in front of him, including Tom. “I might not agree with some of the colonel’s tactics, but he’s a means to an end that must and will come to pass. I see the rumors of your outbreak have been greatly exaggerated, Mr. Miller.”

James willed Tom to keep his cool as he did his best to evaluate the six new soldiers that arrived with Montgomery. Just as he feared, they weren’t random grunts like Dillinger’s troops, and were likely special ops. In view of the gear they sported, he suspected they were SEALs. Not good.

“We’re managing,” Tom answered evenly. “I was just informing your messenger boy that we’re doing fine on our own. If you’d like to discuss a possible collaboration with Mercy, I’d be happy to set up a meeting to go over some options.”

General Montgomery chuckled. “I think you might be confused, though Corporal Dillinger advised me that you’re a rather intelligent man. Maybe you just aren’t well-versed on how martial law works. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time or patience to explain it to you. However, I will give you the option of having your men move this barricade aside so we can still do this peacefully. None of us want any bloodshed,” he continued, focusing on Bishop.

James sensed they were at a pivotal moment. He briefly considered putting a bullet in both Montgomery and Dillinger’s heads. He’d likely get the shots off before someone was able to take him out. His hand twitched on the butt of his weapon as he clenched his teeth together and fought against the desire to carry it out.

While eliminating them might stop the immediate threat against Mercy, James had no idea who else was involved in the general’s plans. It would only serve to fuel the argument being made for the existence of the FEMA shelters and continued martial law. The resulting gunfire would likely get most of them killed, destroying the ability for anyone to access the seed vaults, and silencing the strongest proponent for the civilian government.

James’s internal debate helped make some things clear to him. It was only a split-second of introspection, but it was enough. There were bigger things at play worthy of a worldwide stage, and his goal shifted to the prevention of anyone dying that day.

The general must have noticed the slight shift in his body language, or perhaps the way James lowered his rifle a couple more inches. He was a master at reading people and it was partly how he’d come to be a four-star general. “Sergeant,” he said, his voice sharp and demanding. “I trust the senator is well?”

“I’m actually quite exceptional,” Senator Jenson called out from somewhere in the crowd of people who filled the street behind them. James managed to keep his expression neutral and resisted the urge to turn around. He saw Tom stiffen when Danny and the senator walked up to join them, but he agreed with the ploy. Moving against a US senator added another layer to an already messy scenario. Based on Walsh’s reaction, it was exactly what they needed. The man was looking increasingly apprehensive.

“I heard you were looking for me,” Senator Jenson said pleasantly. “The sergeant here and his men were kind enough to make sure I stayed safe.”

The first trace of irritation flickered across General Montgomery’s face as the woman’s obstinance rattled his resolve. James knew the general was being forced into an unexpected crossroads. He’d have to choose between maintaining his façade of civility and try to manipulate his way into controlling the seed vault, or else take it all by force and declare open war against the civilian government. Either way, as far as Montgomery was concerned, everyone there was expendable except for Bishop. He knew he’d have to take him alive in order to control the vaults and the seat of power he’d been carefully creating.

James couldn’t let him do that.

In one fluid movement, he reached out and swept his father behind him while yelling to his men. “On me!”

Nothing else needed to be said as all five Alpha units and Hicks formed a protective barrier around Bishop. His dad was smart enough to understand what James was doing and didn’t try to resist. So long as they had Bishop, they still maintained some control. Slowly, James began to back away.

“Think carefully right now, Sergeant,” General Montgomery shouted, motioning for the six SEALs to advance. “You took an oath. If you hand over the senator and your father, we can avoid an unnecessary and rather pointless conflict. Otherwise, I will have you and your men arrested for treason.”

A hand rested on James’s shoulder and he was reassured that Jay was there and had his back. “We’re with you, Sarge.”

“Always have been,” Lucas added.

James stopped and raised a closed fist, a sudden gust of wind swirling dry leaves and pine needles around them. Meeting Tom’s gaze he recognized the same feral instinct he felt, to do whatever was necessary to protect the people he loved. James wasn’t just fighting for his father, but also his wife and little girl, who he’d left alone and vulnerable hundreds of miles away. If he allowed Montgomery to succeed, he might as well be putting them into a camp, too, without any guarantee of food or protection. It had to stop there, in Mercy. It was time to make a stand.

“I’m the bargaining chip,” his dad whispered from close behind him. “You’re the ace up our sleeve they don’t know about. Let’s use that. I’ll go with them for now to buy us some time. You’re the one who has to live, James. You can control the vault.”

He didn’t want to listen to his dad, but as a soldier, James knew he was right. Bishop pushed his way around him to stand next to Tom, directly across from Montgomery. Standing tall, he raised his chin and spoke with a clarity that left no doubt as to whether he was bluffing. “The only way you’ll ever find and get into the vault is by working with me, General. Pull back your troops and I’ll go with you. If you truly serve the people, then you’ll stop this madness and work with us.”

James was vaguely aware of more horses coming around the helicopter as he leveled his rifle at Montgomery. He heard his men mirror his actions, which caused the SEALs to raise their weapons in response. One by one, the rest of the people in the road followed suit; some of them out of fear, duty, or the simple desire to be free.

James was okay with dying that day, especially since he was surrounded by people he respected, including his father. But he was counting on the fact that the general couldn’t risk losing Bishop and that the man hadn’t completely lost his mind, after all. Taking a steady breath, he delivered what might be his last words. “Order your men to stand down…sir.”

Chapter 24

CHLOE

Natural Spring, Mercy, Montana

The water was finally topped off, after stopping for what Chloe would have sworn was more than a dozen times. “You’d think,” she said to Ethan with heavy sarcasm, “that as smart as Bishop and Sam are, they’d be able to fix something so simple.”

Ethan pointed at the water that was constantly flowing from the natural spring and down through the man-made filtering contraption. “Sam said it would require a pressure system to regulate the flow enough.”

“Yeah, I know,” Chloe quipped, waving a hand. “It’s all basic physics involving PSI and flow rate and the fact we have no electricity or working electronics.”

Ethan stopped following her back to the horses and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. “If you already know all of that, then why complain?”

Chloe turned back to face him with a look of amusement. “It wasn’t so much a complaint as an observation. And the fact that I’m sick of literally watching water move. Come on!” she added with some urgency, reaching out to punch his arm before running away. “Cave time!”

When Ethan didn’t follow right away, she skidded to a stop and squinted at him. He was grimacing and rubbing his arm, and Chloe could tell he was trying to think of something witty to say in order to change her mind. “Why don’t you want to go?”

Ethan shrugged. “It’s just a cave.”

Her eyes narrowing further, Chloe jutted her chin out. “You’ve been going on and on about how cool Henry’s Hollow is for the past three days. I wanna see the old stuff in there before it gets cleaned out and turned into a field.”

Glancing first at the clouds that were continuing to build, and then at Grace, who had moved her focus beyond the horses and was sniffing around the entrance to the mine, Ethan finally reached out and took her hand. “My dad will kill me if he finds out.”

“So, he doesn’t find out.” Chloe didn’t understand his sudden lack of adventure.

“Somehow, he always knows when I do things.” Ethan pulled his hand back and jammed both of them into his back pockets, making him look much closer to his real age. “Trying to lie to him is pointless.”

Chloe laughed. “I didn’t realize you were so…good.”

“I’m not,” Ethan scoffed. “I just have a very strong sense of self-preservation.”

“Fine.” Chloe looped an arm through Ethan’s and tugged to get him walking again. “We won’t go all the way in. Just to the entrance of it, okay? It’s only a couple hundred feet inside the mine, isn’t it? That way, if your dad asks, we can honestly say we didn’t go into the cave.”

While Ethan didn’t look completely swayed by her argument, he allowed Chloe to pull him along and was smiling again by the time they reached Grace. He had mentioned how weird she was acting, and Chloe had to agree. The retriever sat with her haunches shaking when they approached her, making an unusual whining sound.

“I don’t think she should go with us,” Ethan said, petting her on the head. “What if she tries to fetch a stick of dynamite or something?”

Chloe was thinking the same thing. “Yeah, let’s have her stay with the horses.”

A gust of wind swirled through the glade, carrying with it the unmistakable smell of coming rain. Chloe wouldn’t have ever believed it was possible to say she could smell the rain, but after being in the mountains for a month, she understood the saying and knew it was totally true. Grace jumped up and sniffed furiously at the wind before whining again, convincing Chloe that they were in for one doozy of a storm. “We’ll make it quick,” she said to Ethan. “Promise.”

Ethan had to take Grace back and tell her to stay three times before she listened, and Chloe was about to give up on the cave exploration idea when he finally succeeded. She wasn’t sure why seeing Henry’s Hollow was so important to her. It was just that she’d been thinking about it for several days, and was afraid once the work started, they’d never get a chance to be there alone again. Hearing Ethan describe it to her had built it up in her mind so that it was like fulfilling a dare, more than anything. There was something about traipsing inside a mine they’d been told to stay out of that was so…normal that Chloe couldn’t pass it up.

The early afternoon light was already fading, thanks to the clouds, when Ethan led the way inside the mine opening. The two-by-fours that were previously secured in place had already been removed, so there wasn’t anything barring their way. Chloe instantly wished she’d thought ahead and brought a light with them, though they could still see well enough to enable them to follow the tunnel wall.

“Ever been in a cave?” Ethan asked, glancing back at her. She must have looked scared, because he took her hand and gave her a crooked grin. “You’re the one who wanted to do this.”

Doing her best to ignore the roughly contoured rock ceiling that was way too close to her head, Chloe tossed the loose flap of her scarf over her shoulder and kept moving. “Having a natural fear of small spaces doesn’t mean I don’t want to see this magical cave.”

Ethan winced and wiped at his nose. “Um, yeah. About that. I might have built it up slightly more than is justified.”

Raising her eyebrows, Chloe dropped his hand and pushed at Ethan’s back to propel him further into the tunnel. “Now I really have to see it. How much farther?”

“See that light up there?” he asked, pointing down a side tunnel they’d just come even with. “That’s it.”

Chloe found herself wavering at stepping into the smaller natural tunnel that led to Henry’s Hollow. While it was wider than the one they were standing in, it was markedly lower, so that even she would have to duck to get through it. “Name me one movie where doing anything in a cave ends well,” she muttered.

Ethan was already several steps in and twisted around to smile back at her, his face hard to see in the dim light so that it was mostly his teeth that stood out. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” she pushed, stepping in after him. “Name one, then.” As he began their trek forward again, Chloe found that the farther they got, the more she agreed with his original assessment that it might not be a good idea. However, her stubborn streak prevented her from conceding and admitting he was right.

Ethan snapped his fingers, making her jump. “I got it! Pretty much all of the SG1 episodes.”

“You’re seriously going to try and bring Stargate into this?” Chloe was still fighting against a wave of claustrophobia, but the conversation was distracting her enough so that it wasn’t consuming her. “First of all, they were in a man-made bunker inside a mountain.”

“Cheyenne Mountain,” Ethan added.

Chloe rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “Duh. Were you not listening to James last night? Even without his true horror stories, literally every Stargate episode involved some worldwide threat.”

Ethan stopped at the threshold to the cave, staring at her. She smiled mockingly at him, proud she had finally stumped him with something. Stepping up next to him, she was startled by how bright it was in the huge cavern, due to several large beams of natural light cutting wide swaths through the darkness.

Chloe stepped a few feet inside the cave before taking it all in, moving into the nearest shaft of light and welcoming the false sense of warmth and security it offered. As she looked up and closed her eyes, there was a distinct clicking sound from somewhere close by that echoed through the hollow. Gasping at the realization they weren’t alone; Chloe opened her eyes at the same time that Ethan grabbed and pulled her protectively against him.

They spun together to face where the sound had come from, and Chloe was utterly confused when she saw Father Russell standing in the shadows. Old tools were scattered in the dirt at his feet, and stacks of wooden crates loomed behind him. Clusters of odd wires fanned out around the priest, trailing across the ground to disappear into the darkness. It took a moment for Chloe to realize he was holding a gun and although it didn’t make any sense, it was most definitely pointed at them.

“Well, now. This is unfortunate.” His voice was so pleasant that it only added to the bizarre scene, making Chloe feel like they’d fallen down the rabbit hole.

Swallowing hard, she reached for Ethan’s hand. “Why do I always have to be right?”

Chapter 25

ETHAN

Henry’s Hollow, Mercy, Montana

Ethan gripped Chloe’s hand and tried to pull her back through the opening, but Russell anticipated the move and thrust the gun at them threateningly.

Moving with an uncanny grace, he narrowed the distance between them. “Uh-uh,” Russell uttered, shaking his head. “Don’t. You’re both going to die here today, though I’d rather not shoot you.” He gestured with his free hand to the wooden boxes behind him. “Ricocheting bullets could have a rather spectacular outcome.”

“What are you doing?” Chloe sputtered, her normally cool exterior gone.

“Isn’t it obvious?” When neither Ethan or Chloe answered him, Russell sighed audibly and shook his head. “I’m rather disappointed, Ethan. I suspected you were one of the…worthy. I recognized something in you,” he continued, using the gun for emphasis as he jabbed it at Ethan. “You and I, we aren’t so different.”

A deep-seated fear began to slowly slither up from Ethan’s gut to settle in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. The shadowy chamber, with the shafts of light fading and brightening as the clouds swiftly passed overhead outside, could have been the location of any number of Ethan’s recent nightmares. In them, instead of Decker or Billy doing the killing, it was him. When he woke drenched in sweat in the middle of the night, it was because of his revulsion at the pleasure he felt committing the heinous acts. Ethan’s terror was that he wasn’t any better than the killers who had kidnapped him and he’d never be able to outrun the truth. For a heartbeat, it felt like the priest was looking into his soul and calling him out. Only, that wasn’t possible and Ethan knew he was projecting his own fears into the situation to try and make sense of it. The man was crazy.

Russell grinned then, a morbid expression when combined with the weapon and maniacal energy in his eyes. “You get to be a part of something exceptional.”

“You’re not a priest!” Chloe spat, her anger beginning to override her horror. “And I’m not sure what kind of twisted complex you have, but you and Ethan are nothing alike.”

“I’m certain a long discussion with you on abnormal psychology would be thrilling, Chloe, but I’m afraid I’ve got a schedule to keep.” Russell continued to speak like he hadn’t just threatened their lives and was holding a gun on them. “So I’m going to need you to come over here and sit down next to this cart.”

When Chloe balked and took another step back, Russell reacted with lightning speed, leaping forward and striking Ethan against the temple. Pain exploded through his head and he staggered sideways, bumping into Chloe and knocking them both to the ground.

“Umph,” Ethan grunted as the second impact caused another fresh burst of pain in his forehead.

Chloe scrambled out from under him and began to pull at his shoulders, trying to drag him away from Russell. “Come on!” she whimpered, looking back-and-forth between him and Russell. Her eyes were wide with a stark terror Ethan had seen before. He looked away and shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He had to focus.

“Here.” Something hit his legs as Russell spoke, making Ethan flinch as he turned back to see a length of rope in his lap. “Tie him up or I put a bullet in his head.”

There was something about the rope that wasn’t right. It was too thin and looked more like a cord. Ethan’s thoughts sharpened with the realization that it wasn’t a rope. He’d seen the material before, two summers ago, when they did some blasting for an access road on the back property at the farm. His dad made a fuss about it and almost didn’t let him watch. Ethan stared at the mass of cords on the ground and his breaths quickened. “Russell, what are you doing in here?”

Chloe stopped her hopeless battle to drag him and crouched down, looking like a caged animal. When Russell leveled the gun at Ethan’s head, she picked up the length of cord with a strangled sob.

“I’m only doing what I must,” Russell said without emotion. “Certainly, no one can deny the Earth is trying to purge itself. I’m simply playing my part.”

“You aren’t God!” Chloe looked up at him as she spoke and grimaced when the depth of his lunacy became apparent to them both. “How many people have you already killed?”

Shrugging, Russell kicked at Chloe’s hand. “Start tying. And I have no idea at this point, though it doesn’t matter. Live or die, it’s the course of nature. Let’s not confuse that with the will of a god created by man’s inability to find their own answers.”

Ethan’s head hurt, but he didn’t think that was the reason he was having a hard time following the man’s logic. At least he was talking, which was better than killing them or blowing them up. He needed to formulate a plan, and he began eyeing the rusty tools laying nearby.

Just as Ethan spotted a potentially sharp ax-head, Chloe grasped his wrist. Propped up on one elbow, he rolled toward her, expecting her to follow the order to tie his hands together. Instead, she gave him a signal, mouthing a silent “now” before launching herself backwards into Russell while wrestling for the gun.

The distraction was all he needed. Lunging for the rusty blade, Ethan rolled to his feet. Chloe was small but wiry, and she’d gotten a good grip on the man’s right arm. As Russell grabbed her by the hair with his other hand and began to haul her back, Ethan swung as hard as he could at Russell’s exposed shoulder.

The blade didn’t bite into the bone, but it was enough to make the gun drop from Russell’s hand. It spun across the floor of the cave as he howled in pain and threw Chloe away from him. Ethan met their attacker’s gaze and knew there was only one way any of them were going to make it out of the cave alive.

Lowering his shoulder, he slammed into Russell’s chest, trying to tackle him to the ground.

“Umph,” Russell grunted. He wrapped Ethan up and managed to stay on his feet so that Ethan only succeeded in driving him backward until they both crashed into a boulder painted with graffiti. It wasn’t enough to knock the wind from the larger man, and Ethan couldn’t disengage fast enough to evade a flurry of strikes to his stomach and face.

Trying to backpedal while vainly attempting to bring his arms up to block the blows, Ethan knew he was in trouble. Russell could fight, and even with an injured shoulder, Ethan was no match for him. But it didn’t matter. He just had to hold out long enough for Chloe.

His lip split and Ethan’s mouth filled with the taste of blood as his heartbeat pounded in his head, drowning out his ragged gasps and grunts of pain. Reversing tactics, Ethan stopped trying to get away and instead dropped low. Hugging Russell’s legs, he pulled him to the ground as he shouted. “Run, Chloe. Run!”

Russell easily broke free, though there was a brief reprise as they grappled on the ground. Ethan might not be much of a fighter, but he was big, and he knew how to wrestle. Scrambling, he pushed them around in a circle on the ground, using his legs for leverage.

“Why fight it?” Russell cooed as he managed to reverse their positions and straddled Ethan. “There’s no point in fighting me, boy. I was always going to come for you.”

Ethan clawed at Russell’s forearm as it slid around his throat, understanding that there was no tapping out of their fight.

As the edges of his vision began to gray, Ethan continued to flail and frantically tried to look around and see if Chloe had made it out of the room. She was running, only it wasn’t away from them. She was coming at them, and she had the long wooden handle of the ax in her hands.

“Stop!” Chloe screamed, swinging down as she drew close.

A thudding noise, a shift of weight, and the pressure against Ethan’s throat eased. His vision still blurred, he gagged several times and then tried to drag himself through the dirt. Away from Russell. He had to get away.

Another thud from nearby and then a scream. “Chloe,” Ethan groaned, blinking furiously in an effort to see clearly. Hauling himself onto his hands and knees, he reached toward where he could see a flurry of movement. He heard heavy footfalls and knew Chloe was running for the tunnel. She was going to get away.

Then, he saw Russell and knew his actions were too calculated as he rose to his feet and lifted his arms in her direction.

Crack!

A muzzle flash exploded in the shadowy light of Henry’s Hollow, and Ethan watched in horror as Chloe spun around from the impact of a bullet.

“No!” Ethan yelled hoarsely, unable to force his legs to hold his weight. Falling back onto his stomach in the dirt, he saw Chloe’s red scarf flutter to the ground next to where she lay.

Chapter 26

RUSSELL

Henry’s Hollow, Mercy, Montana

Russell watched with interest and something he suspected might be close to regret, as the boy’s life drained from his eyes. Even though he knew he was defeated, Ethan tried to fight him, his body thrashing under Russell as he applied just enough pressure to his throat to make it last longer than necessary.

He could have shot him, of course, but he’d come to a firm decision that it was an option to be saved as a last resort from then on. It was such a…sterile way of going about something that was so very, very personal.

“What are you thinking right now?” Russell whispered close to Ethan’s ear. “Regret? Sadness? Possibly wishing you could cry out for your dear father?” That prompted a fresh burst of resistance, and Russell snickered as the boy flailed weakly and managed to strike him against the side of the head. “Uh-uh,” he tsked, pressing harder and adding some extra weight onto Ethan’s chest by lowering himself against him. “I’m afraid your future is already decided.”

A flash of pure hatred spread across the boy’s face. His nostrils flared and he wheezed as his throat was slowly crushed. Russell was struck again by the similarity between Ethan and his younger brother. The expression of understanding as Daniel had flown down the stairs—

Shaking his head, Russell realized he was sitting up, allowing Ethan to breathe again. Irritated with his lapse in concentration, he moved swiftly and hauled the teen to his feet, putting him in a more traditional headlock. He was allowing himself to become distracted again when he had bigger, more important things to do.

Ethan continued to put up an impressive fight and Russell grunted with the effort it took to keep his arm in place. Because of the commotion, he didn’t hear the other noise right away. By the time he looked up, Russell immediately noticed two things: the girl’s body was gone, and there was a large dog running at them.

The menacing growl and bared teeth were enough to rattle him more than any other potential threat. Russell dropped Ethan automatically as he went for the gun he’d shoved into his waistband. His breath coming in rapid bursts, Russell stumbled backwards and frantically aimed as the beast bore down on him.

A shot echoed through the cave.

The dog twisted sideways and skid to a stop, cowering in reaction to the sound. Disoriented, she whimpered and altered her course to where Ethan was sitting. Russell frowned at the gun falling from his numb hand as he convulsed, realizing he hadn’t fired it. Beyond the boy and dog, Chloe stood in the opening of the cave. A rifle was clasped in her hands, ready to fire again.

“Ugh,” Russell mumbled, stepping sideways. His limbs suddenly went weak and he looked down in confusion at a spreading stain on his shirt. Dropping to his knees, he chuckled, blood frothing on his lips. “I didn’t see that coming.”

He fell over onto his back and lay staring up at the light seeping in through the natural chimneys. There was a strobing effect undulating through it; lightning from the approaching storm. Or maybe it had already arrived, raging around the cave while their own tempest played out inside.

Russell got lost in the movement of lights and shadows and didn’t know how much time had passed before Ethan came to stand over him. Chloe was close behind, holding the weapon as if he were still a threat. Her tan shirt was marred with a patch of dark wetness, but she appeared alert and focused. The dog growled somewhere beyond his vision and Russell could hear her pacing, clearly agitated. Ethan turned and said something inaudible to Chloe before kneeling down next to his side with a look of disgust on his face.

“Who are you?” Ethan asked with genuine curiosity. His eyes narrowed and he wiped at the blood running from his nose before gingerly touching his reddened neck. “Why are you in Mercy?”

“I am no one,” Russell gasped. The effort to talk made him cough and warm blood splattered onto the ground by his mouth. “I am everyone. I’m the storm that’s come to wash you all away, and you can never stop me. You can’t stop something that is already in motion.”

“He’s insane,” Chloe said, her voice sounding far away.

The face above him blurred and Russell strained to focus. “Daniel?” No. No, it was Ethan. And he was dying.

Russell wasn’t surprised by his own death. He should have known it would be the boy who would be there to deliver him to it. It all made sense then; his unusual fascination and draw to Ethan. The real reason he’d been led to Mercy. At last, he had found someone who was worthy of living. Russell struggled to reach a hand toward him but his body would no longer respond.

“You failed,” Ethan hissed. “You won’t hurt anyone else, you sick bastard.”

Russell gurgled in response and when he tried again, succeeded in grasping Ethan’s hand. Pulling weakly at the boy, the edges of his vision faded, transporting him back to his attic. Russell was lying on his small, lumpy bed, breathing in the stagnant air and staring up at the rough, exposed wooden beams. He hadn’t yet taken a life and was ignorant of his greater purpose, though he’d always known there was something different about him. Something special.

Faintly humming the tune of “Edelweiss”, his lips damp with blood, Russell left the world smiling.

Chapter 27

GENERAL MONTGOMERY

South Gate, Mercy, Montana

As General Montgomery stood staring down the barrel of Sergeant Campbell’s weapon, he knew he’d made the critical error of underestimating the man.

The forced self-reflection made him briefly consider the possibility that it was his own vanity that prevented him from predicting the sergeant’s treason. Montgomery knew, tactically, that he was right. He had a clear vision of what had to be done in order to preserve the greatest number of lives. His orders should have been followed without question, except that in the current state of things, he was unable to maintain the required control. It allowed for insurrection and uprisings more commonly found in third-world countries.

Mercy was an anomaly. One he planned to capitalize on, especially since it appeared to be in close proximity to the seed vault. Finding Colonel Campbell there with his son and the senator wasn’t a complete shock, but was still unexpected and only helped to confirm his suspicions.

The leader of the 1st Force Recon knew Montgomery couldn’t afford to let Colonel Campbell get killed. The general didn’t like to play games, especially not with his own soldiers. It was time to end the farce and simply acquire what he wanted in another, less direct way on his own terms.

“We all want the same thing,” Tom said, holding his hands out in a placating gesture.

“No,” Montgomery retorted, his words sharp. “I don’t think we do.” Turning away from the farmer, he raised a hand to call off his dogs and discovered that while they’d been talking, another group of riders had come up behind them. They were led by a gray-haired man dressed in leather and a worn cowboy hat.

“Jesper Duke,” Corporal Dillinger muttered when he spotted him.

“I promised you, Dillinger, that our paths would cross again. You and I have some unfinished business.” The old rancher tipped his hat in Tom’s direction. “I heard you folks might need a hand.”

General Montgomery thrust his arm out in front of Dillinger before he had a chance to answer. The fool had already done enough damage. It was time for him to take control before things got out of hand. He turned to the leader of the SEAL team, who was still squared off with James. “Sergeant—”

“Enough!” Colonel Walsh yelled, startling Montgomery into silence. Moving up next to the general, he held his arms up in surrender. “Stand your men down,” he said first to the SEAL leader. “Please,” he continued, turning to face James. His head swiveled from Jesper Duke to Tom, the senator, and then back to Montgomery. “It’s over, General. I…we can’t let this go any further.”

A clap of thunder rumbled overhead as if on cue and Montgomery could see his soldiers flinch and then look at each other with uncertainty. He didn’t care what they thought at the moment. He was concentrating on Walsh and his choice of words.

“I was hoping Mercy wouldn’t be so…volatile,” Walsh stammered. “And that we could just sort this out later today in a less dramatic fashion. Considering who’s involved, I should have known better.”

Eyes narrowed, Montgomery took a measured step, closing the gap between them. “Would you care to explain who you mean by ‘we’?”

Lowering his arms, Walsh cleared his throat and instead of answering the question, looked over Montgomery’s shoulder toward Tom and his group. “Your message got through, Senator. There was a quorum this morning and by now, you should officially be the new president pro tempore.”

Betrayal. General Montgomery’s face burned with it. The greatest mistake a leader could make was to let their personal feelings cloud their judgement. It was his own fault for allowing the weasel to slide along for far too long. Walsh had been working with Senator Jenson the whole time, undermining him and orchestrating a coup.

His face a mask of anger, the general had a hard time maintaining control of his emotions as he stared at the man whom he thought was a friend. “Arrest him.”

When no one moved immediately, he spun toward the SEAL leader and pointed at Walsh. “Arrest the colonel now for treason, or else you’ll be next!”

“No!” Walsh yelled back, standing his ground. “General Montgomery, I hereby relieve you of your command by orders of the Joint Commanders, Major General Visor and Sergeant Major O’Shane. You are being charged with conspiring in the assassination of Vice Admiral Baker, conspiring to kidnap Senator Jenson, and ordering—”

Montgomery reached out and grabbed Walsh by the front of his uniform and for a moment, could envision wrapping his hands around the man’s throat and squeezing until he could never utter another foul word. But as their eyes met, he saw a truth and understood that none of the accusations could be denied. He had perpetrated them all, and would make no attempt to refute it.

Grunting, the general released Walsh and took a step back, never looking away. “Kelly, you of all people understand why those things had to be done. It was the only way. Our society will crumble and wither away unless we harbor and nurture it.”

“It’s over, General.” Walsh’s voice was no longer accusatory but resigned.

“I did it for them,” Montgomery urged, gesturing to the people surrounding them in the road. “The soldiers, farmers, and townspeople. The survivors.”

“No,” Walsh said, shaking his head and taking another step back, like he was repulsed. “You did it for yourself.”

Four-star General Andrew Montgomery had always been a virtuous man. He believed in facing the truths of one’s own moral character, even when they were hard to accept. He believed in the rule of law and upholding an oath. He blinked, unable to find a valid argument to counter the accusation. Perhaps it was because there was no justification for what he’d been forced to do, but then, he knew that from the first moment he realized he was involuntarily in charge of what was left of the world. He was handed an impossible task; one above the ability of any one man.

Reaching up, Andrew removed the insignia pins from first one shoulder tab, and then the other. Placing the stars in Kelly’s hand, he moved past him and made his way past his silent troops and a rancher seeking revenge. Dirt crunched under his polished shoes as he skirted the motionless helicopter and walked down the mountain road, the storm swirling overhead.

Andrew’s only regret was that he’d left the old, faded photo of his wife and son in the bottom drawer of a desk, deep inside a mountain he would never return to.

Chapter 28

TOM

South Gate, Mercy, Montana

“Let him go.” Senator Jenson’s order surprised Tom and he looked at her questioningly.

“She’s right,” Bishop agreed. “It’s easier this way.”

“How is it easier?” Danny asked, eying the conflicted soldiers nervously. Tom saw that most of them had lowered their weapons and were trying to decide who to take orders from, but a few still had them trained on James and his team.

“It’s going to take some time before I’m officially recognized as acting president as well as a lot of work to establish a proper chain of command,” Jenson answered while motioning for Walsh to join them. “If Montgomery wants to voluntarily walk away from his post rather than go through a convoluted process, I’m fine with that. The amount of time we’d waste trying to decipher and argue the laws and how they apply in our situation would overshadow what’s really important. Even now, we’re going to need to rely on a mutual effort between myself and the Joint Commanders. Are you able to act on their behalf?” she asked Walsh.

Colonel Walsh removed a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. “I managed to get a signed declaration from them both before we left, though having you appointed as the acting president will help speed things along.”

Tom figured whatever document the soldier named Walsh had was a good thing, based on the senator’s reaction. It was clear he’d been working with the civilian government to stop his commander. However, the only thing Tom cared about at the moment was the stand-off that had yet to be resolved. He was acutely aware of how vulnerable they all were, and that his mother and Danny were standing next to him.

He decided to make the first overt move and lowered his rifle the rest of the way. “Why don’t we allow the residents of Mercy to return to town while you all figure out who’s in charge?” he said loud enough for everyone gathered to hear.

“We have no way of knowing if anything they’re saying is true,” the SEAL nearest to James barked as the two of them continued to square off. Tom couldn’t even guess how a fight between the two would play out, and he didn’t want to find out.

“The man standing beside me is Colonel Campbell of the US Army, Master Chief,” James said evenly, without looking away.

“Again,” the Master Chief said with growing agitation. “I have no way of confirming who this guy dressed like a farmer is and last I heard, Sergeant, you were AWOL.”

“Stand down, Chief,” Walsh directed. When the SEAL leader hesitated, the much smaller man stood rigid and pointed a finger at him. “In case you need a lesson, Chief, I outrank all of you and am now effectively in command of this unit. Are we going to have a problem? Because you’re welcome to join Montgomery. I’ve heard this part of the state is really quite beautiful, so you might enjoy the hike.”

Tom hadn’t been sure of his first impression of the colonel, but as he watched the SEAL leader lower his weapon and nod at his men to do the same, he decided he liked the man.

“There’s been enough fighting,” Walsh continued, stuffing the paper back in his pocket. “From now on, we’ll be focusing on rebuilding together, alongside the civilians, and will only invoke our rights under martial law to maintain lawful order for safety.”

Several of the soldiers behind Walsh nodded in agreement and looked relieved. Tom imagined most of them weren’t that different from the people of Mercy and were only following orders. One of Montgomery’s mistakes was that he allowed Dillinger to run with his own agenda and turned a blind eye to what he was doing because it was helping to advance his goals.

Tom knew that kind of mentality was something they’d have to keep dealing with, moving forward. Communication was limited, and with everyone being so isolated, it was easy to make excuses to justify what you had to do in order to survive. The real job of their leaders would be to clearly establish and then maintain the law and order Walsh mentioned. Because it was different now. The world was different and the survivors left behind would have to redefine the rules to fit the new reality.

Turning to the crowd of people behind them, Tom lifted the rifle over his head. “Mercy is safe today!” he shouted, to the cheers and applause of more than three dozen men and women of all ages. “Go back and finish celebrating with your friends and family!”

As the group dispersed, he saw Patty jogging up the road toward him. She was holding the radio and didn’t look happy. “Tom!” she yelled, weaving her way through the throng of people.

He winced and grabbed for his own radio before she could reach him. He should have already given an update. “The situation at the south gate is resolved,” he said, keying it up. “I repeat, there is no threat. North gate, advise the sergeant that a Colonel Walsh has ordered the military to stand down.”

Patty’s frown changed to a smile as he finished talking and she waved her radio. “I can do one better than that,” she gasped, out of breath from her sprint. “Caleb got on the radio and reached out to the Malmstrom base to see if someone there had enough pull to help us, and he was informed that it’s been announced Senator Jenson was voted in as the new president!”

“President Pro Tempore,” Senator Jenson corrected. “It means I preside over the senate and am third in line to the succession of the presidency. So, by default, I’ll become the acting president. However, I still have to be sworn in and there’s a lot to discuss as far as what acting president means, especially in regards to the current martial law and lack of anyone else remaining in the presidential office positions. There’s a lot of work to be done,” she continued, looking at Walsh. “Which is why I need to get back to Idaho, and then both of us will go to Cheyenne Mountain together.”

Colonel Walsh smiled for the first time and gestured to the helicopter. “I think I can help with that, but we still have some unfinished business here.”

Tom continued to be impressed by the colonel as he approached him and stuck out a hand. “We haven’t been formally introduced, Mr. Miller, though we both know how important it’s going to be for us to set the right example for the rest of the country, and potentially what’s left of the world.”

Shaking Walsh’s hand, Tom was struck by the enormity of his words. Somehow, their small town of Mercy had become a central piece to a very complicated puzzle. In that moment, he vowed to do all he could to preserve their way of life, while hosting whatever farming program they came up with to help feed the survivors in the rest of the remaining civilization. It would start there, and hopefully spread until it included everyone.

“We’ll do our best,” Tom assured him, and then glanced over the colonel’s shoulder at Dillinger. The corporal looked like he had a permanent scowl on his face as he glared at Tom, reminding him of what he’d threatened to do. “But I can tell you right now that it isn’t going to happen with that man in charge of anything,” he added, pointing at Dillinger. “He threatened to slaughter my family in the street just before you arrived, and I believe he would’ve done it.”

“He’s already done it!” Jesper Duke yelled, jumping down from his horse. His men mumbled behind him in confirmation and Tom was astounded at the change in Jesper. He’d lost enough weight to look sallow and pale, and his clothes were muddy and torn. Tom guessed it was the result of being chased off his farm and left to scavenge in the woods.

“I was under direct orders and this man resisted,” Dillinger said somewhat dismissively. “He made the choice not to comply.”

“Choice?” Jesper bellowed. “You shot my son in the back as he was running from your men, who were ransacking our property!”

“It’s true!” A female soldier dropped down from her horse and approached Walsh and Dillinger. “I was there. The man wasn’t a threat and was trying to leave. Corporal Dillinger didn’t have to shoot him, and he’s done it before.”

“Enough!” Dillinger yelled as he turned toward the woman, and Tom reacted automatically when he saw the corporal start to raise his hand as if to strike her.

Lunging forward, Tom grabbed Dillinger’s arm, stopping it mid-air. Dillinger spun on him, his other fist coming around, but Tom anticipated it and delivered a solid uppercut before he connected.

The corporal’s head snapped up and he staggered back a step, thrown off balance by the unexpected blow. Before he could recover, Sheriff Waters and Bishop each grabbed an arm, while Tom felt Danny pulling him back.

“It’s done, Tom,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him from behind and pressing her head against his shoulder.

If it had been anyone else, Tom might have tried to shake them off, but it was Danny. She somehow already knew him better than anyone, and her touch was the one thing that could penetrate his temper. Relaxing, he took a steadying breath and then reached up to squeeze her hands to let her know he was in control.

Releasing him, she moved to his side and then grinned at him as the sheriff manipulated Dillinger’s hands into cuffs. “Karma,” she whispered.

“Do you have the ability to handle this man back at the mountain?” Senator Jenson asked Walsh.

The colonel rubbed at his jaw while frowning at Dillinger. “I saw enough at the Duke Ranch and Pony Express station to add my own testimony. I know what your orders were, Corporal, and you extended your authority and actions far beyond them. We’ll take him back and organize a court martial,” he said to the senator.

“I was acting under the direct orders of General Montgomery!” Dillinger spat blood from his mouth, still struggling against the sheriff.

“And you’ll have the opportunity to explain that,” Walsh replied flatly. “Take him to the helicopter,” he directed to the SEAL leader.

The master chief glanced momentarily between his former commander and Walsh and then gave a curt nod. “Yes, sir.”

Tom breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the SEAL team escort Dillinger away and he could feel the rest of the tension leave with him. “Jesper,” Tom called, motioning to his friend. “You and your men are welcome in Mercy. We’re having a cookout in the center of town and there’s plenty for everyone. For all of you,” he added, turning back to Walsh.

“We appreciate that,” Walsh answered. “But we really need to get the senator to Idaho as quickly as possible, before there’s a chance for any unrest. Who’s the ranking officer?” he asked the remaining troops.

The woman who had stood up against Dillinger raised her hand. “I am, sir. Lance Corporal Meyers.”

“Corporal Meyers, you’re to return to Command Center Two and turn all of the land and property back over to the owners. I’ll leave it up to you for now to see if you can manage to work together with the farmers in a way that’s beneficial to everyone.”

“I can help with that,” Jesper Duke said, his voice rough. “I don’t want to see anyone else hurt during this process. We’ll do whatever needs to be done. I appreciate the offer of hospitality,” Jesper added, tipping his hat at Tom. “Except the day is still early, and if Corporal Meyers wouldn’t mind heading out now, I’d appreciate returning to my family and righting things as soon as possible.”

“Sir,” Meyers saluted Walsh before doing an about-face and motioning to her unit. “Let’s go!”

“We’ll arrange a meeting soon,” Tom assured Jesper as he pulled his horse about. “We have a lot to talk about.”

As Jesper’s men and the soldiers began to form an unlikely brigade, Walsh focused again on their need to get moving. “Senator?” he gestured to the helicopter that was already starting to spin up, apparently at the master chief’s request.

Senator Jenson nodded but then hesitated, looking at Tom. “I’m going to need an ambassador. Someone to act as a liaison between Mercy and whatever government we establish.”

Tom was shaking out his fist, and the pain in his hand made it evident to him that he wasn’t the right person for more than one reason. His gaze shifted to his mother, who’d been standing calm and strong next to the senator throughout everything. “I can’t think of anyone who’d represent Mercy in that capacity better than my mother.”

Sandy raised a hand to her chest and began to shake her head, but Senator Jenson took a hold of her arm and stopped her. “He’s right,” she said emphatically. “I know enough from our long conversations that you have both the political intelligence needed, as well as the obvious farming experience. Plus, I wouldn’t mind getting together over a bottle of wine every once in a while.”

Sandy smiled then and the two women hugged. “You might be able to sway me, Senator. Are you sure you have to leave immediately?”

“Timing is critical right now,” the senator said, pulling away and looking at each of them before walking over to gaze up at James. “Sergeant, I feel like I have you to thank for this outcome. I know you have some unfinished business and the rest of your family is in California, but when you’re settled, we should talk about a special assignment. I have a feeling your dad is going to be in need of a good security team.”

James laughed, squinting down at her. “I think you might be right, Senator. And I wonder if you could arrange for some fuel to find its way to my grounded bird?”

Senator Jenson looked back at Walsh, and he scratched at his forehead. “We’ll contact Malmstrom. Shouldn’t take more than a few days if it’s close by.”

“Good. We’ll make it happen,” Jenson assured James. “Not only will you need it to get home to your family, but it’ll come in handy for that stretch of road between here and The Farm. Speaking of which,” she said while waving a hand at Walsh. “We’ll need to make a pit stop. I lost my head of security along the way.” Walsh stared at her and tilted his head questioningly. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell ya on the way. I’m just glad we don’t have to walk.”

Tom stood silently as everyone said their final goodbyes. He had mixed emotions about the senator leaving and the unstable political atmosphere she was about to attempt to control. So long as Mercy didn’t end up in the middle of a power struggle, the role they played was theirs to define. Senator Jenson seemed like a woman of her word, and with his mom helping bridge any gaps, he felt more secure about Mercy’s future.

Once the wind from the helicopter died down and the aircraft was heading toward the distant mountains, there was nothing left to do but go back and finish their celebration. As Danny reached for his hand, another bolt of lightning cut through the churning clouds overhead and momentarily turned the sky abnormally orange. It was a good reminder that the military might prove to be the easiest hurdle to get over.

“Let’s get back,” Danny urged, cringing from the ensuing thunder. “And we should make sure the soldiers at the north gate believed us. Hopefully they have a way of contacting their base to confirm everything.”

“Caleb can help with that if it’s an issue,” Patty suggested.

Tom had so many different thoughts tumbling through his head that he’d forgotten again about the other group of soldiers. Picking up his pace, he gave Danny’s hand a tug. “Whose idea was it that I become mayor?” he said with a crooked grin.

“I hate to jump right back into politics,” Bishop interrupted as he kept pace with them. “But things are going to move fast. I’d suggest another meeting with the town leaders so we can fill them in on everything, including The Farm. We’ll be called upon soon to make some big decisions as a town.”

“We?” Danny asked, still smiling.

Bishop looked over to where James was walking with his men, and then at Sandy. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but I’ll need to stay close in order to oversee The Farm. I suppose I could operate out of the office, but if you’ll have me, I’d rather assign Hicks there and remain a part of Mercy.”

Sandy moved around Tom and hooked her arm through Bishop’s. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. The Miller Farm wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Bishop began to smile, but then glanced at Tom expectantly. Tom appreciated the show of respect, though it wasn’t necessary. Stopping, he extended a hand to the older man. “We’d be happy to have you. Just don’t ever do anything that’ll result in me getting my butt handed to me again.”

When Sandy rose her eyebrows at him, Tom shook his head. “Another time, Mom.” She was about to insist on more details, when the sound of a running horse drew Tom’s attention and he was surprised to see Tango come charging around a bend in the road.

“Dad!” Ethen yelled. “I’m glad we found you. What’s going on? We saw the helicopter leaving.”

As Tango got closer, Grace trailed behind them, and it was obvious Ethan had been pushing the horse. Tom frowned when he saw the blood on Ethan’s face and a fresh shiner forming on at least one of his eyes. When Chloe peeked out from behind Ethan, Tom already knew something was very wrong.

“You’re bleeding!” Sandy cried as Tango stopped near them.

“What in the world happened to you two?” Tom demanded, immediately on guard when he saw there was also blood on Chloe’s shirt. “Are there more soldiers up at the spring?”

“What? No!” Ethan retorted, wiping warily at his face. “What soldiers?”

“I’m fine,” Chloe gasped, holding tightly to Ethan. She looked dazed as Bishop ran to help her.

“The military showed up, and we managed to work it out,” Sheriff Waters intervened while gesturing to Ethan. “Right now, I think you might have a more urgent matter to fill us in on.”

“She was shot,” Ethan said without preamble. “By Father Rogers.”

“I wasn’t shot!” Chloe argued, wincing as Bishop lifted her down. “It’s just a graze.”

Tom had moved to take Tango’s reins and froze at his son’s words, his breath catching.

“Wait.” Patty looked pale. “What do you mean? Father Rogers did this? Where? Why?”

Danny knelt down as Grace leaned into her and she ran a hand down the dog’s back. “There’s blood on her!” she exclaimed.

“It’s mostly mine,” Ethan said, still on Tango. He met Tom’s fierce gaze with an intensity a boy his age shouldn’t possess. “Grace saved our lives, Dad. And you know how you told me to stay out of Henry’s Hollow?”

Tom blinked. “Henry’s Hollow?” He was having a hard time following what his son was saying. None of it made any sense. “Was there a cave-in?”

“No,” Ethan said quickly. “It was almost something a whole lot worse.”

“We’ll all need to sit down for this one,” Chloe said grimly. “But let’s just say nothing good ever happens in a cave.”

Chapter 29

STEVIE

Northwestern Washington State

Stevie drew a thick line across another day on the calendar with a Sharpie and took a deep, shuddering breath. He normally marked the days off in the morning, but he’d forgotten until the sun was going down and he noticed it wasn’t done yet. He was doing that a lot lately. Forgetting things.

Twenty-four days since “it” happened. That was more than three weeks. Dropping the calendar back onto the kitchen table, it knocked an empty can of pop off and Stevie watched it clatter across the floor. At first, he’d been very careful about picking trash up because he knew if he made a mess his mom would have a conniption when she got home. That was part of the deal they made at the beginning of summer. If he got to stay home while she worked, he would have to clean up after himself.

Snoopy whined and nudged his hand that was hanging limply down by the side of the chair. Stevie gave up early on trying to get the dog to answer to Slayer, so Snoopy it was. “What?” he muttered, turning his hand over so the lab could lick it. “I’m okay, buddy. Just tired, is all.”

They were running out of food, and had been for a few days. Stevie scavenged as much as he could from the vacant houses near him. He still had several cans of vegetables and corn, but he didn’t think it was giving him enough of what his body needed, since all of the good stuff was gone. Good food like chili, peanut butter, candy bars, and chips. Well…he knew the chips didn’t have much in them, but the other stuff at least had fat and calories and made his brain feel better.

Stevie kinda felt like the time when he got the flu and had to stay home in bed for a week. His body hurt, and it was hard to think. He supposed he wasn’t starving yet, except he might if something didn’t change.

He’d gotten the barbeque to work the second week, and began boiling water to drink. He even caught a few fish. Then, the rains started and the fish stopped biting. The grass was turning brown, even though it rained a ton. Stevie thought there might be something wrong with the rain, though it didn’t do anything bad to him.

Kicking at the soda can, he was suddenly very angry. Nothing was right, and he didn’t know what to do anymore. Stevie looked at the back door and his backpack that was stuffed with supplies, ready to go. If he ever made up his mind to leave.

The propane feeding the barbeque would run out soon, so he’d need to start making regular fires to boil water or cook. He’s only found one lighter and that wouldn’t last forever. He could go look through the house’s junk drawers for more, but Stevie was just so…tired. Of scavenging, of being dirty, of not knowing what was happening, or if his mom was alive.

His breath caught and Stevie wiped roughly at his nose. He told himself he wouldn’t cry like a baby anymore about his mom. It’d been a month. He’d been alone for almost a month.

“She isn’t coming back, Snoopy,” he yelled at the dog, as if it was his fault. Snoopy only looked at him with his brown, sad eyes and whined again. Feeling instantly guilty, Stevie dropped from the chair and onto his knees so he could grasp Snoopy’s face in his hands and rest his forehead against the dog’s. “I’m sorry. You’re a good boy. You’re a good boy, Snoopy.” Snoopy thumped his tail happily and licked at Stevie’s face, forgiving him of all his sins.

Stevie wasn’t sure he deserved it. He didn’t think he was being a good provider for his best friend. He didn’t know how to hunt, other than fishing, and he was afraid to go farther than the ten houses he’d already searched. A few days earlier, he’d ventured beyond what he called the “safe zone”, and nearly been shot. People were crazy now. They’d kill you for a glass of water, let alone some of the good kind of food. He suspected they would eat Snoopy if he got caught by the wrong people. Maybe even him, too.

Stevie shook his head at the thought, still nose-to-nose with Snoopy. “Uh-uh. We can’t go into other houses, Snoop. It’s too dangerous. I’m either gonna have to figure out how to go all caveman and make fires and hunt and stuff, or try to go to Jay’s.”

He remembered how to get to his best friend’s house, it was just so far. A half-hour in a car, so probably around two hours on his bike, was Stevie’s best guess. Last summer, he tried to ride his bike there after his mom told him he couldn’t spend the night. He made it halfway before she tracked him down and grounded him for a month.

It wasn’t that Stevie didn’t think he could go that far, it was the people in between that scared him. That they might try to steal his bike, or his bag, or his dog. He saw a group with horses two days ago, only two blocks away and inside the “safe zone”. They were long, country blocks, but it was close enough that seeing them made him feel sick. Like, he nearly puked on his shoes while hiding behind some bushes.

The men were dirty, and some of them were bloody. They had guns and after they went into one of the houses Stevie had been thinking about visiting, he heard a gunshot. He had no way of knowing if they killed someone or not, but that was sure what it looked like.

That was why, even though he was running out of food, and gonna run out of propane, and he had his bag all packed…he was still sitting in his kitchen. Stevie was afraid so much of the time that his gut had a permanent knot in it. Like all the fear was moving through his body and going straight to his stomach, where it hardened into a ball that was getting bigger and bigger until one day it was just going to explode.

Snoopy’s ears pricked up and his gentle whine turned into a low growl.

Stevie jerked upright on the hard, wooden chair and held his breath. Snoopy had much better hearing than him and warned him once when another mean dog was out in the front yard.

There!

The sound of gravel crunching. Crunching?

Stevie jumped to his feet and made his way through the shadowy family room so he could peer out the front window. His breath caught when he saw a horse-drawn cart at the end of their long driveway. There were several people standing next to it and they were dressed like the men he’d seen before. The ones he needed to hide from.

Running back to the kitchen, he grabbed his backpack and took the stairs to the second floor two at a time. In his room, he had a ridiculous thought that he needed to find the box of his favorite action figures to take with him, and he struggled for a few wild heartbeats to control his breathing so he could think more clearly. He was panicking. Stevie knew he was panicking and he was gonna get killed if he didn’t stop it and think straight.

The front door banged open. He froze, then forced himself to tip-toe to his bedroom window. It was already open, the screen removed, and he slipped out onto the porch roof that faced the back of the house. He turned to whisper to Snoopy, but the black lab was already leaping out after him. Pulling the curtain back across the opening, he then eased out as far as he dared, and lay flat on his stomach.

He’d come up with the escape plan late the night before. If he was lucky, the scavengers would go through the house and leave without ever knowing he was there. They’d have no reason to look out his bedroom window, unless he gave them one. Throwing an arm over Snoopy, who was lying down next to him, he hummed softly in the dog’s ear to calm him and keep him from whining or barking.

“Steven!” A muffled voice yelled from the kitchen below him.

Stevie stopped humming.

“Stevie! Are you here?” The voice was louder as they came up the stairs.

Stevie closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He had to be delusional. He was finally losing it.

There were noises in his room for what felt like forever, then the curtain above his head was drawn back and a woman’s face appeared. “Stevie? Oh praise God, is that really you?”

Stevie looked up, and his mouth hanging open as his throat constricted with emotion, preventing him from crying out. Her face was bruised and it looked like she had stitches in her forehead, but he would always recognize his mom. Of course, she would be the one person who would know to look for him out on the roof. It was where they always use to lay together and watch the stars, before the world fell apart.

As the reality washed through him, the fear was chased away and Stevie’s eyes filled with tears of relief. He finally found his voice as the woman crawled through the window and scooped him into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Mom!” he cried.

She’d come home.

Chapter 30

CHLOE

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

The storm finally hit with a vengeance late the night before and then stopped abruptly just before dawn. Chloe thought it mirrored their own intense experiences from the Fourth of July. Except unlike the fresh, crisp air the rain left behind, she continued to feel burdened by her run-in with Russell.

Chloe focused on her breathing and stared at her feet as they pounded on the dirt trail. She knew the exercise and familiar routine would help calm her nerves, even though her side ached with each jarring step.

“You were shot in the chest and you’re still faster than me!” Ethan gasped from behind, his voice straining with the effort to keep up.

Chloe slowed and grinned at him when he came alongside her. “Quit being so dramatic.” They’d gotten an early start and were already headed back to the farm as the sun crested the mountains and began to warm the air. She stopped to give her ribs a break, and soak up the peaceful energy in her favorite grove of evergreens. “Dr. Olsen even said it’s only a scrape.”

Ethan’s face pinched up and he wagged a finger at her. “I believe what she said was that the bullet scraped your rib, which prevented it from going into your chest. Pretty sure I saw some bone in that scrape.”

Chloe rolled her eyes before taking off again, determined to prove that she wasn’t really injured. She knew it was silly, but it made her feel better. If she could shrug off nearly getting killed, then it made the rest of the traumatic encounter easier to handle.

“I think you got the worse end of the deal,” Chloe said without any humor. She kept her pace slow enough so that Ethan could stay beside her, and she stared at him critically. One eye was almost completely swollen shut and the other had some bruising spreading under it. His neck was scratched and there were so many bands of color across it that he looked like someone had taken a paintbrush to him. Only, it wasn’t a painting, and Chloe saw it as a painful reminder of how close they’d both come to dying. The irony of it all was enough to make her scoff whenever she thought about it. After everything, some freak posing as a priest was what almost did them in.

“What do you think he was?” Ethan asked, clearly having similar thoughts to Chloe, and ignoring her observations about his own injuries.

Chloe shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. You heard what Bishop said last night. They didn’t find any ID in his stuff, except for the deputy badge and nametag. We’ll probably never know who he really was.”

“No.” Ethan reached out and took ahold of her arm, gently pulling her to a stop and forcing her to face him. “That’s not what I mean. What was he, Chloe?”

A chill she’d been working hard to suppress since the first time she’d seen the man in Henry’s Hollow slithered around her chest, causing a fresh flare of pain in her damaged rib. Absently raising her free hand to press at the wound, Chloe swallowed hard and returned Ethan’s intense gaze. Yes, she knew what he meant. “Something I hope we never see again.”

Nodding slowly, Ethan glanced around at the thick trees, clearly spooked by the conversation. “We should get back now. Grandma’s going to start breakfast early, and Crissy and Trevor should be getting here soon so we can get up to the lake on time.”

He was referring to the special meeting Tom had called to fill the town leaders in on the details they’d been missing out on. Trevor and Crissy would be coming with Dr. Olsen. Chloe wouldn’t be surprised if Crissy told her she’d decided to live with Melissa. Turned out she was a natural at being a medical assistant, and ever since the attack, Crissy was a nervous wreck while at the ranch.

Chloe thought it was smart to hold the meeting on the farm, and Tom’s choice to take them up to a lookout over Mercy was only fitting. They would, after all, be talking about the whole town’s future. Which was now also her future.

Before Ethan could pull away, Chloe stepped forward and kissed him briefly on the lips. Smiling, he looked at her questioningly. “What was that for?”

“For being you.” Chloe didn’t know how else to say it. Ethan was the best friend she’d ever had, and the bond they shared was something she knew would last through anything.

It must have been the right thing to say, because his expression became serious as he hugged her tightly before abruptly letting go. Jogging backwards, he waved a hand in the air. “I have a confession. I was holding back this whole time, so if you want any chance of eating some of the leftover steak, you’re gonna have to run!”

Laughing, Chloe chased after him, feeling so much lighter than when they’d started. The darkness they faced in the cave was something that rubbed off on them. It couldn’t be explained, but they both felt it. Together was the best way to overcome it, and Chloe was sure that with time, it would be a piece of the memory rather than a part of them.

“Chloe!” Bishop shouted from nearby, jarring her from her thoughts and causing her to focus again on where she was.

They’d entered the upper field and Chloe saw Bishop was partway down the trail, on his way to the house. He was holding a stack of notebooks and looking rather serious, even for Bishop.

“I wanted a chance to talk with you before the meeting,” he said once she reached him. Lifting the notebooks, he frowned at them. “These are all the transcripts from my radio transmissions, and I stayed up most of the night writing down all the details about The Farm and vault program.”

“Okay.” Chloe stared at him quizzically, not sure what it was he wanted her to say.

“Chloe, I’ve betrayed a lot of people’s trust and I know I’m going to need to prove myself to them.” Bishop hesitated before looking behind them to where James and his team was busy breaking down their camp at the far end of the field. “But I want to make sure we’re okay. I want you to know that no matter what happens with The Farm, or even James, I’m not going to stop trying to find your parents. I consider you a part of my family now, and family never abandons each other.”

One of the things Chloe appreciated about Bishop was that he was a man whose word meant something. He might not have been forthcoming about who he really was, but anything he’d ever done or said was genuine and Chloe knew she could rely on him. If Bishop said he was going to find her parents, he would. Or, at least find out what happened to them. And he was right; they were family now. Just like Miller Ranch was her home.

“Of course we’re okay,” she said with a smile. “My only problem now is that I don’t know if I should call you Bishop, Carl, Colonel, or Mr. Campbell.”

Laughing, he put an arm around her shoulder and they began to walk together toward the farm. “Bishop. I think I’ve always preferred that man.”

“Me too,” Chloe agreed, thinking back over the past month and all that had happened, including her own personal growth. She was different. In some ways, she’d need time to heal and rediscover some aspects of herself and how to get over being forced to take another life. In other ways, she was a better person. Stronger, and kinder, because of the people she’d come to know, including Bishop.

Leaning into Bishop’s arm, Chloe had no idea what their future was going to look like, but so long as they were all together, it would be okay. She would be okay.

Chapter 31

DANNY

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

Danny was conflicted by the contrasting scenery as they rode three abreast on the trail to the lake. Her dad and Sam were talking amiably beside her while she absorbed the early morning sun, birdsong, and aroma of warmed pine needles and wet hay. However, mixed in with the seemingly charming setting was the browning grass and lingering odd cloud formations. The birds pleasantly twittering could take flight into erratic and sometimes suicidal patterns without warning, which always made Danny apprehensive when she heard them.

To someone who hadn’t experienced the past twenty-five days, the tranquil countryside would have appeared almost normal, but they all knew the truth. It was going to be a long struggle that would likely involve ongoing changes before any sort of standard measure of normalcy could be set.

“Bishop said James and his unit are getting ready to leave in a couple of hours,” Sam was telling Tane. “Apparently, they’re based out of Southern California, which is being hammered by storms worse than we’re experiencing. They’ve got to get their families before they can come back and settle into any sort of role here.”

“They’re going to stop here first after getting refueled though, right?” Danny interrupted, concerned. Bishop assured her the night before that he would get a message through to the Malmstrom base about sending some medication with the soldiers delivering the fuel. In addition to the desperately needed antibiotics and insulin, he’d requested the beta blockers for her dad. Danny wasn’t sure the base infirmary would give up the more popular meds, but she was hoping the heart medication wouldn’t be in high demand.

“They’ll be flying right back over. Mercy is on their way to Idaho,” Sam said with a nod. “I’m sure the senator will stop if they’ve got anything, Danny.”

Sam knew how concerned she was about her dad, and that he’d gone without his meds now for a couple of days. He was a good friend, and she appreciated how positive he remained, in spite of his own suffering that he never mentioned, let alone complained about.

Tane cleared his throat and leaned forward enough that he could look over at Danny. “I think I’ll be fine without the medicine for a bit. Turns out all these outdoor activities and eating only fresh food has helped me shed quite a few pounds. It’s a much healthier lifestyle. I’m feeling better than I have in a long time.”

Danny’s initial response was to remind her father that no amount of lifestyle change could reverse the damage to his heart, but she bit back the words. He knew that already and certainly didn’t need her telling him. Instead, she smiled reassuringly. “You look great, Dad.”

Grace suddenly lunged past them and leapt off the trail as they neared the lake, barking happily and running in a wide circle around Lilly, who was tied to a tree. Danny knew Tom was close by and turned her horse from the trail to follow the golden retriever. “I’ll meet you up there!” she called to Sam and her father, feeling better than she thought she would as they rode off together. Sam’s positive attitude had a way of rubbing off on people, and Danny knew from experience that it absolutely helped when someone had a chronic health issue. She needed to learn from her friend and take each day as it came, instead of worrying so much about the future.

Reaching Lilly, she dropped from her horse and tied the mare up while laughing at Grace’s antics. The dog had been to the lake on a number of occasions, yet she still got so excited about the water that she was worse than a small child. Picking up a stick, Danny tossed it out into the body of water to make Grace happy.

She’d been to the lake herself on more than one occasion, so she felt pretty sure of where she’d find Tom. After a quick hike around the far end, Danny located him at what he claimed was his favorite fishing hole. “Any luck?” she called out when she spotted his pole sticking out of the trees.

“Nah.” Tom pulled the line from the water and met her partway, holding out a hand to help her over some logs. “I didn’t really expect to catch any, not after that storm last night. It was more to clear my head. This place has a good way of doing that.”

Danny frowned at him, picking up on the tension in his shoulders and the lines in his forehead. “What’s got you so worried?”

“The whole reason Patty stepped down and apparently appointed me as mayor was because of her losing the confidence of the city council,” Tom explained, looking out over the placid lake. “One of the first things I did was withhold information from them that nearly got Mercy destroyed. It’s going to take some work to gain their trust back and I’m not sure how to do it.”

“Tom.” Danny said his name tersely and he looked at her with some surprise. “You need to stop apologizing for yourself all the time. Yeah, you’ve made some mistakes, but we all have. You literally knew about that seed vault for a day, and it wasn’t even your secret to tell. If you feel some great need to ask the council and town leaders for forgiveness over this, then go ahead. Personally, I think you should own up to your choices with self-assurance. That’s what Patty sees in you, and why the people of Mercy want to follow you. You have the ability to make hard choices when the chips are down and what they all need right now is to see that confidence.”

Tom’s shoulders relaxed and he grinned at Danny, taking her other hand in his. “See? This is why I need you here on the farm with me. Everything else aside, you give amazing advice.”

Danny moved in closer and looked up at Tom, enjoying his nearness and the strength she always drew from him. “Are you asking me to move in with you, Mr. Miller?”

Tom blushed and searched her face, trying to tell if she was serious. “Well, I’ve been hoping you might decide to stay.”

“Only if you’re willing to share me with Chief Martinez,” she said innocently, batting her eyes at him.

Frowning, Tom opened his mouth to ask a question and then closed it again, struggling for the right words. Laughing, Danny put a hand on this chest and gave him a reassuring kiss. “Don’t worry, Mayor. I’ll let you court me properly, and I was referring to my taking three shifts a week at the fire station. Chief Martinez has his own farm that’s been suffering for the past month, so I thought I could help out and also work at the clinic on those days.”

Shaking his head at her, Tom smiled good-naturedly. “I think it’s a great idea. I’ll be riding into town most days to take care of my mayoral duties, as Patty likes to call it, so we can check in with each other.”

Danny followed Tom out of the cove after he retrieved his pole and they headed back to the horses. Grace found them, still grasping the wet stick in her mouth, so Danny threw it again to the dog’s utter delight. “Be careful what you wish for,” she said with a more casual tone. “You might end up getting tired of being around me so much.”

Turning to her near Lilly, Tom surprised Danny by reaching out and cupping her face with both of his hands. She noticed how careful he was not to bump the small dressing on her ear, and it made her love him even more.

“One of the few things in this life I’m still sure of is the fact that I’ll never get tired of being with you,” Tom said with such sincerity that Danny was speechless. He kissed her gently then before letting her go. “Don’t ever forget that.”

She wouldn’t. Standing there in a place she would have never dreamt of being only a month before, Danny had somehow miraculously found love. She wished it hadn’t taken the end of the world for her to face her demons, but through the inconceivable experiences, she finally knew who she was again. A strong, independent woman with broad shoulders, and an even bigger heart.

Chapter 32

ETHAN

Miller Farm, Mercy, Montana

By the time Ethan and Chloe reached the lookout, council members were starting to arrive and his dad was already there, leaning on a fence from a safe distance. He knew his dad was probably running over what he was going to say, but Ethan needed a minute with him.

“Find us a seat?” he said, turning to Chloe.

Chloe grinned in response, since they’d be standing in an open grassy area. “Go,” she said, shooing him away, understanding the real request.

Ethan glanced out over the open expanse as he neared his dad. He was always awestruck by the view up there, no matter how many times he saw it. The particular ledge they were perched on was high up on the west side of the valley with a sweeping vista in every other direction, including the town of Mercy. In spite of the unusual colors streaked through the clouds as the sun continued to rise, and the browning foliage that was becoming more apparent every day, it still made Ethan feel safe. It was their valley, their home, and they would continue to protect it. He knew his dad would do whatever was necessary, and that also gave him courage.

“Hey, Dad,” he called out.

Tom looked pleased to see him, instead of being annoyed at having his solitude interrupted. “I’m glad you came over,” he said, lifting a hand up toward Ethan. “I’ve been waiting for you. I wanted to give you this.”

Confused, Ethan stared at the dull-colored rock in the palm of his dad’s hand. It took him a moment. When he finally recognized it as the trilobite Ed Hanson gave him on the second day after the flashpoint, unexpected tears sprang to his eyes. “You’ve had it this whole time? I thought I’d lost it, when…you know.”

“When Decker and Billy took you,” Tom finished for him, his voice rough.

Ethan placed his hand over the fossil and looked up at his dad. He was surprised to see he was fighting to control his emotions, something that didn’t happen very often.

“I found it in the road when I woke up,” Tom continued after clearing his throat. “I made a vow to myself then that I would find you, Ethan. I knew I would because you’re a survivor. I knew you’d never give up and I want this to serve as a reminder to you. No matter what’s happened, the things done to you or what you’ve been forced to do, remember that you’re a survivor in life and in staying true to yourself.”

Although it was exactly what Ethan needed to hear, he didn’t know if he believed any of it. After his encounter with Russell and what the guy had said to him, he’d been having a hard time shaking off the feeling that maybe he was right. With all the darkness Ethan experienced the past month, maybe it wasn’t possible to come through it without losing a part of himself. “How do I even know who I am anymore?” he gasped, looking away from his dad.

“Because I’m your father and I know who you are!” Tom said forcefully, taking ahold of Ethan’s shoulders and turning him so he’d have to look at him. “You sacrificed yourself first to save me. Then you risked your life for Danny and Sam, and repeatedly suffered personally in exchange for the safety of Chloe and so many others. That’s what a hero is, Ethan. I’m proud of you and the man you’ve become and I would be honored if you worked with me in the mayor’s office. I’m going to need a lot of help coordinating the farming program with our town, The Farm, and the government. Will you help me?”

Ethan was stunned. He remembered how he’d clung to the need for his father’s approval like a lifeline when everything first started falling apart. He couldn’t remember when, but at some point, it stopped mattering as much. Now that he had his father’s respect, it meant more than he could have ever imagined.

Standing up a little straighter, Ethan clasped his fist around the trilobite and reached out toward his father with the other. When his dad gripped his hand, it wasn’t the pacifying motion of an adult trying to please a child, but a firm, powerful handshake between two men. “I’d be honored to work with you, Dad.”

Clenching his jaw, Ethan gave his father a brisk nod before turning away, not trusting himself to say anything further. Walking back to where Chloe waited for him, he glanced over at Tango and then to his grandmother, who was coming up the path.

Ethan understood then how he already had everything he needed to define himself, and clutching the trilobite close to his chest, decided he liked what he saw.

Chapter 33

TOM

Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana

As Ethan walked away, Tom’s chest swelled with pride. He knew exactly what sort of inner turmoil Ethan was dealing with, because he was struggling with the same emotions. In many ways, his son had gone through more than he had, and held up better under the pressure. Tom meant what he said; he was proud of Ethan and the man he’d become.

After hearing the story the night before about the confrontation with Russell Rogers, if that was even his real name, Tom was disturbed that he’d failed to recognize the danger lurking among them. It was a threat none of them had expected, or were prepared for. It was the sort of evil he suspected would rise up in the ruins of their society and if they weren’t careful, cause more destruction than the more obvious sources.

Fear and hate festered like a wound until it spilled over, unless it was treated properly. For Mercy to stay healthy and flourish, Tom knew that full disclosure and working together so that they operated in unity was required. He understood now why Patty was so distressed by the suicide that happened during her watch. That kind of despair was to be expected, of course, but the only way to combat it was by caring enough about each other to notice and intervene.

The clearing was filling up with the council members, town leaders, and his family and friends. He didn’t ask them there to give a speech or lecture, but to look out together over their town while he explained Mercy’s role in the coming months and years. It was critical that they all agreed to be a part of it. That they wanted to be.

“Your dad would be proud.”

Tom smiled at his mom as she approached him, reflecting on the similarity of her words and the ones he’d just had with Ethan. “I hope so, Mom. I miss him every day.”

Sandy scooted through the space in the railings and then leaned next to him, bumping him playfully in the shoulder. “I know you do. We all miss him, but he’s never very far away.”

Gazing out at the valley, she tilted her face to the breeze, strands of her dark hair billowing around her face. “You have to give them hope, Tom.”

Grace had been gleefully running around to greet everyone, and had finally settled down by Lilly. Laying near the large horse, she rested her head on her paws while gazing up at the other animal. It was such a simple reminder for Tom. How Grace had trusted him during the fire when she was most vulnerable and struggling to breathe. She’d allowed him to drape her across the back of a horse and carry her to safety.

Tom knew what his mom meant. In the middle of all the chaos and hopelessness, they had to find and hold on to the moments that made them feel. The way saving Grace that one afternoon had broken through his turmoil and made him reconnect with a part of himself he had almost lost. Those emotions were what compelled them to do the right thing. It gave them hope.

Tom never thought he’d be more than a father and a rancher, and he’d had those roles, as well as several others, challenged over the past month. He wasn’t always proud of how he’d reacted, and in some ways, he’d failed, but Danny was right. It was okay to own up to the failures, and even more important to embrace his success.

Taking his mother’s hand in his, Tom reminded himself that one of those roles was as a son. “Come on,” he said, giving her a tug. “Let’s go talk to our friends together.”

As Tom and Sandy walked down the trail and toward the people representing their town, he drew strength from the love he felt for each of them, and the energy of the land itself. Danny, Ethan, Sam, Bishop, Chloe, and James. They had all been called home for different reasons and were now part of something much bigger than their own needs. Through a complex web of circumstances, they were now in a position to give hope not just to their own community, but the rest of the country.

Stopping near the top of the lookout, surrounded by the wooded mountains and raw beauty of the land, Tom finally allowed himself to acknowledge that he’d made it. They were home. A sob worked its way through his body to escape as a moan that was part despair over what had been lost, and part relief for what was gained. He didn’t try to hide it as others saw his powerful emotions released. It was okay to feel, to love, and to hold on to whatever gave you joy. Through it all, they had found each other.

Together, they found Mercy.

THE END

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