The Last Orchard: Book 0

James Hunt

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

About the Author

Copyright 2018 All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, by any means without prior written permission, except for brief excerpts in reviews or analysis.

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1

The bank’s interior was immaculate. From its polished white marble floors to the crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling, every square inch of the financial institution was bathed in decadence; all of it monitored by a pair of armed guards by the revolving front doors.

It had an open layout inside, with the tellers situated to the left, protected by bulletproof glass where they handled the queue of customers’ withdrawals or deposits.

All walks of life waited in line, all of them on their phones save for an elderly woman who waited patiently, both hands clutching her large burgundy purse with dollies etched across the side, smiling to herself while the man behind her argued and raised his voice on the phone.

“I told him fifteen times that the deadline was this afternoon. Just get it done!”

The rest of the bank’s open floor was comprised of ornate wooden desks built from oak and stained a rich, dark brown, where the loan officers examined proposals. By checking a box on a form with a simple flick of their wrists, they had the power to bring dreams to life or kill them before they had a chance to take their first breaths.

A mixture of handshakes and tears brought the conversations to an end, though not all the applicants walked away without pushing back.

“Thirty years!” An old man stood, shoving his chair back, his voice and the screech of the legs of his chair turning every head in the bank. “That’s how long I’ve given my business to this bank.”

“Sir, you need to calm down.” The fortysomething suit behind the desk raised his palm, trying to soothe the old man like a child, then tossed a quick glare at one of the guards, and the sentry approached quickly and soundlessly.

“I missed two payments, and only two! I already told you I can pay it back.”

The banker leaned over the desk. “Then pay it.”

“Because I can’t do it in the time you’ve given me!” The old-timer slammed his fist onto the table, causing a few pens to fall off the banker’s desk. “My family has been on that land for five generations! What right do you have to take it away? We worked that land! We’ve helped feed this state and this country for over a century!”

The banker remained emotionless. Cold. “You’ve defaulted on your loan. And we’re well within our rights to take control of your assets. It’s all outlined in the details of your mortgage.”

“But you can’t—”

The security guard seized the old man’s arm from behind. Surprise and shock flashed across the old-timer’s face. He stared up at the big brute, his pleading eyes useless against the guard’s apathy.

The banker stood once the guard had the old man secured, and he leaned forward and planted his knuckles on the desk. “You will have until the end of the month to pay the remaining balance of your mortgage, or your family will be escorted off the property.”

And with the flick of the banker’s eyes, the security guard dragged the old man away from the desk.

But the old man didn’t go willingly. “Get your hands off me!” He jerked his arm but was unsuccessful in his escape attempt, and the guard yanked the old man harder toward the door.

“C’mon, you mother—”

The security guard froze and whipped his head around quickly to the stranger that had grabbed him.

Charlie Decker kept a firm grip on the security guard’s arm, blocking his path toward the bank’s exit. The pair stood eye to eye, both just a hair above six feet tall, though the guard had the weight advantage.

A light tic at the corner of the guard’s eye prompted Charlie to remove his hand. He wasn’t in the mood for an altercation, especially not before he had a chance to plead his own case to the bank.

Charlie kept his voice low, and while the bank had grown quiet, only the guard and the old man heard him speak. “I’d like to think security here would handle folks with a little more dignity.”

The guard flared his nostrils but then noticed the number of phones pointed in his direction, ready to make him the latest viral video.

The guard released the old man but then thrust a finger in his face. “You walk out of here without a word. Understand?”

The old man grimaced, but he nodded, the weathered lines from all the years of manual labor etched along his face like worn wheelbarrow paths. He turned to Charlie. “Thank you.”

Charlie nodded. “You’ve still got until the end of the month. I’m sure you’ve done more with less.”

The old man cracked a smile, exposing a missing tooth on the left side of his mouth. He shook Charlie’s hand. The calluses on both men’s palms were part of their identity. Then Charlie watched him leave and glare at the security guard on his way out.

Charlie returned to his seat in the waiting area, ignoring the expressions of shock from the other customers. He picked up the folder he’d dropped on the floor when he saw the growing altercation then waited patiently to be called.

The old man was one of hundreds of farmers that had gone belly-up. It was the nature of the business—adapt or die. It was a trend that was becoming more common among the farmers in the area. If you couldn’t compete with the large farm conglomerates, then it was game over.

Most families were lucky to get back what they owed, and a best-case scenario involved walking off their land without any debt. But that was a rarity.

“Mr. Decker?”

Charlie lifted his head and flashed a smile at the loan officer dressed in a sharp blue suit, white shirt, and red tie. He was clean-shaven and had a fresh tan but didn’t smile.

“Nice to meet you.”

Charlie extended his hand, and the banker regarded it for a minute, almost as if he was making sure it was clean. Once Charlie’s hand passed inspection, the banker reciprocated the handshake.

“Have a seat, Mr. Decker.” The banker kept his attention on the papers on the neatly stacked piles of documents on his desk, then glanced to the folder in Charlie’s hands. “I see you came prepared.”

“Yes, sir,” Charlie answered, repositioning himself in the chair. The plastic seat wasn’t comfortable, but he suspected that it was designed that way.

“Your visit today is for a loan application for your…” The banker flipped through the pages, unable to finish his thought.

“Orchard,” Charlie said, happily filling in the blank.

“Yes, orchard.” The banker accentuated his frown the further he dove into the orchard’s financial history.

Charlie cleared his throat. “It’s no secret that smaller farms just don’t have the same profit margins as the larger corporate farms, but we’re more agile than those big guys, which allows us to adapt more quickly.” Charlie set the folder on the banker’s desk. “My plan outlines a more efficient and streamlined approach for harvesting, which in turn will allow for better marketing because we’re producing a better product.” He pressed a finger on top of the pages. “We’re rebranding our orchard and opening it up for tours, and I already have vendors lined up for a weekly weekend farmer’s market. We’ll also have an events department for weddings and parties. And once we’re able to purchase the upgraded processing equipment, we’ll be able to double our daily output.”

The banker picked up the folder, and Charlie took the nods as a good sign. “You’ll be funneling the projected revenue into the payments for the new machinery and renovations?”

“Yes, sir, and those projections are very conservative.” Charlie inched toward the seat’s edge. “I think those margins will increase to the low teens by the third quarter after operations are up and running. I’ve also developed relationships with local bakeries and grocers to help supplement our demand, and I’ve received a lot of positive responses. There’s definitely an interest for our product both locally and nationally.”

The banker nodded but never broke from the stoic nature of his posture or expressions. And the longer the banker remained silent, the more Charlie’s stomach soured.

Finally, reaching the end of Charlie’s documents rather quickly, the banker closed the folder then leaned back in his chair, hands clasped together over his stomach. “You’ve put together a fine presentation. Your numbers look solid, but I don’t share your optimism about your margins increasing so quickly.”

Charlie chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded. “Our property is well maintained. Our nurseries are promising, and our cover crop—”

“Your orchard’s financial history doesn’t paint a pretty picture.” The banker shifted in his chair, the stiff suit limiting his mobility as he stretched his neck. “Every loan that this bank has extended to your farm has been met with late payments and extensions. And despite the rosy figures you put together, you failed to account for the toxic debt that your orchard has accrued over the past forty years.”

“I understand that, and if you look at my reinvestment numbers, you’ll see that I include paying off that debt from the profits—”

“Mr. Decker, even if you managed to scrounge together enough funds to pay the minimum payments on your debt, which is doubtful, those numbers just aren’t profitable for our bank.”

Charlie lingered at the edge of his seat. He clasped his hands together and chewed the inside of his cheek, gathering his thoughts. “I know that my family’s orchard doesn’t have a history of consistent payments or profits and that this bank has granted us a lot of leeway over the years, and I don’t want to take advantage of that generosity—”

“It wasn’t generosity, Mr. Decker.” The loan officer planted his elbows on the table, his small, beady pupils boring into Charlie’s rich hazel eyes. “It was bad business. And it’s not a business this bank will be continuing.” He pushed Charlie’s folder across the table.

Charlie stared at the weeks of work inside that the banker had discarded.

“Next!” The banker raised his hand toward the waiting area, and another hopeful applicant rose from their seat and stepped into the lion’s den.

Charlie headed for the exit, remembering his family’s prior experience with bankers coming to the farm to collect. It was never the same people twice, but they all had the same look. They’d drive down the dirt road in a dark-colored luxury sedan, kicking up dust and not getting out of the car until that dust had settled.

Charlie watched them complain about the dirt that would collect on their suits and polished shoes as they scowled and turned their noses up at everything that he had called home.

All the bank saw was numbers on a spreadsheet. They didn’t see the toil, the sweat, the blood that Charlie’s family poured into their land, which was why they fought so desperately and passionately to keep it.

But what he wanted the bankers to see was something that couldn’t be shown in a PowerPoint or spreadsheets or business proposals. And it was something that the bankers who came out to their orchard never stuck around long enough to see.

It was watching something grow. Months, and sometimes even years, of constant nurturing. You couldn’t see all of that in five minutes of assessing land. Hell, you couldn’t see all of that over the course of a long weekend. It was only when you woke up in the morning, on a normal Tuesday, after fifteen years of living on the farm, and you walked out and caught the sunrise in the field and, for the first time, really felt the warmth on your face.

The same warmth that fed the trees and the earth that grew the very crop you were trying to harvest. It was all connected.

When Charlie passed the security guard, the big man snickered. “Don’t forget your dignity.”

Charlie ignored the quip and stepped through the revolving door and into the busy weekday Seattle afternoon, squinting from the sunlight.

Hurried pedestrians passed Charlie, most of them on their cell phones, and two of them knocked into Charlie as if he weren’t even there.

After a few steps, Charlie stopped and turned back toward the bank.

Seattle Credit was carved in gold letters, and a pair of thick marble columns stretched from floor to ceiling. The structure looked Romanesque and ancient compared to the Starbucks and H&M stores on either side.

Hesitant, Charlie removed his phone and made the call that he’d been dreading all day. It rang seven times before his mother finally answered.

“Charlie? Son? Can you hear me?”

“Hey, Mom,” Charlie said, stepping out of the sun and into the shade of a nearby tree surrounded by a fence and concrete. “Is Dad with you?”

“Yes. Hold on. I’ll put you on speaker. Okay, can you hear us now?”

“How’s the weather over there?”

Charlie pulled his ear away from his phone, laughing at his father’s boisterous greeting. “It’s fine, Dad.”

“So how’d it go?” his dad asked, his tone masked with trepidation.

Charlie exhaled. “No one approved the loan.”

“Not even Seattle Credit?” his mother asked.

Charlie glanced back up at the bank’s moniker. “Nope.”

His parents’ silence was louder than any words they could have spoken, and Charlie headed for his truck, parked on the street a few buildings down.

“So what options does that leave us?” his mother asked.

“Not many,” Charlie answered. “I’ll look at the books again and see if there is any other capital that we missed that could be used as collateral, but it’s going to be hard to find.”

“It’s all right, Charlie,” his father said, that hearty voice still optimistic even with the deadline fast approaching. “They’ll have to drag me off this farm cold and dead before I leave!”

“Oh, Harold, stop it,” his mother said. “Well, we love you, honey, and we’ll see you at home. Drive safe, okay?”

“I will.”

Charlie pocketed his phone, trying to rid himself of the lingering taste of the lie on his tongue. He’d already been through every asset that his parents owned. Every leaf and blade of grass was accounted for, and he knew checking the books again wouldn’t yield any hope.

He might be able to try some other banks throughout the state, but after the dozens of doors slammed in his face, he didn’t expect a different outcome anywhere else. Seattle Credit had been his last hope.

Charlie loved his family, and he loved the orchard where he grew up. For the past four years, it was all he’d focused on. He’d attended one of the best agro-business schools in the state, and after graduation, he was confident he was equipped with the tools he needed to save the farm.

But his parents had driven them too far into debt, and despite their arduous hours and tireless work ethic, they could barely break even. And while their yearly losses were small, they added up after four decades. It was just too big of a hole to climb out of.

The only option left was the one option he hadn’t discussed with his parents, and that was to sell before the bank took everything. They might be able to break even then find work somewhere else, but he knew that his father was serious about never leaving his land. He had too many roots set deep into that ground. If he uprooted them now, he wouldn’t survive the transplant somewhere else.

Charlie walked the three blocks to his truck, which was parked in a space on the side of the road. Cars zoomed past, and as Charlie approached his truck, he noticed a green paper pinned down on his windshield by one of the wipers. “Dammit.”

He snatched the parking ticket off his windshield and checked the meter, finding it expired by only a minute. “Unbelievable.” He crumpled the ticket in his fist and searched for the parking maid but found no one in uniform. “When it rains, it pours.”

Charlie fished the keys out of his pocket and stepped toward the driver’s side door. With his mind still lingering on the ticket, he didn’t see what caused the scream from across the street. But he glanced up in just enough time to watch the sedan veer from its lane of traffic and make a beeline straight for his truck.

2

The harsh crunch of metal preceded the shattering of glass and the din of the car horn as Charlie half jumped and was half thrown from the driver’s side door of his truck.

He thrust his arms out to catch himself against the sidewalk, which greeted him stiffly, and his palms scraped across the grainy concrete, drawing blood. His knees hit next, the pain sharp and hot, which he tried to diminish by rolling to his side, the momentum spinning him a few rotations before the world was finally upright again.

Bones aching, Charlie struggled to his feet, his senses overwhelmed with pain and light and screams, compounded by a symphony of car collisions that echoed down the street.

People scattered from the sidewalks as drivers lost control of their vehicles and swerved into parked cars, signs, meters, trees, and buildings.

What few cars managed to stay on the road smashed into each other, creating a chain of wrecks that stretched to the horizon.

“Jesus,” Charlie whispered under his breath and slowly turned his attention back to his truck and the sedan, which had crushed together, the metal crinkled like an accordion and the windshield shattered, transformed into crushed white glass.

Charlie hurried over to check the driver behind the wheel and found the air bag had been deployed. The driver was leaned back in his seat, disoriented. A nasty gash ran across his forehead, and blood dripped down his face.

Charlie tugged at the handle of the car door, but it only opened a crack. The collision had smashed the metal around the doorframe, preventing it from fully opening.

“My head,” the driver said, sounding confused and his voice ragged. “I can’t feel my head.”

“Hang on. I’m going to get you out.” Charlie wedged himself in the narrow opening of the door. He planted both feet, squared his hips, and pushed.

Metal groaned and cracked, and the muscles along Charlie’s arms trembled, his cheeks reddening from the effort.

The door opened a few inches, the progress slow, and Charlie doubled down, offering one last push. The metal gave way, and the door opened wide enough to reach the driver.

Charlie unbuckled the driver, who had blood dripping into his eyes from the gash, then grabbed his arm. “Nice and slow now.” He pulled the driver out of the wreck, the man’s large belly scraping against the steering wheel, and Charlie leaned him up against the car. “How are you feeling?”

“My head,” the driver repeated, lifting his hand to touch the wound, but Charlie stopped him.

“It’s fine,” Charlie said. “Just a cut.”

Charlie examined the rest of the driver. He was overweight, his neck wobbly like a turkey neck. He was bald save for a few wisps of hair that sprouted from the very top of his scalp. He wasn’t old. Charlie guessed midthirties.

“Just stay put.” Charlie reached for his phone, hoping that it hadn’t broken when he fell to the sidewalk, and glanced down both ends of the road. “What the hell is going on?”

Charlie finally retrieved his phone from his pants pocket but discovered the screen was black. He pressed the power button, and still nothing. He frowned and looked back at the driver, who was wobbling from side to side, the blood drying to his face and shimmering beneath the sunlight.

“Let’s get you off the road.” Charlie took the guy’s hand and led him to a bench near one of the storefronts. He then rushed over to his truck and grabbed a towel from behind his seat.

“Here,” Charlie said, placing the towel in the guy’s hand.

The driver pressed the rag to his face, smearing the blood before finally removing enough for him to see. He glanced down at his shirt and tie, both stained red. “I can’t go to my meeting like this. Shit!”

Charlie shook his head. “I don’t think anyone is going to that meeting.” He looked at the nearest store. “I’m going to call for help. Just stay put. I’ll be right back!”

“Yeah,” the driver said, grimacing as he touched the cut on his forehead. “No problem.”

Charlie entered a small FedEx office. The lights were shut off, and the patrons inside were staring in confusion at their phones, all of them blank. Just like his.

Charlie weaved around the frustrated customers and headed for the cashier behind the counter, whose jaw hung slack as he stared through the storefront window at the chaos outside.

“Hey,” Charlie said, waving his hand in front of the employee’s face.

The cashier pulled back, surprised by Charlie’s intrusion. “Can I help you?”

“I need to use your phone,” Charlie answered.

“It’s dead, man.” The cashier gestured to the store. “Everything’s shut down.” He tapped on the register, which did nothing, to help prove his point. “Sorry, pal.”

Charlie spun around and found the rest of the customers staring out the window like the cashier, their bodies silhouetted by the sunlight.

“Hey, are you all right?” the cashier asked.

“What?” Charlie saw that the employee was staring at his hands. Charlie glanced down and found the driver’s wet blood on his fingers. He rubbed his fingertips together and felt the hotness and slickness of the blood and smelled metallic scent, and his stomach lurched.

No power. No phones. Drivers losing control of their vehicles. It was more than just a power outage. It was as though the world had stopped spinning.

Charlie stepped back outside. The crowd along the sidewalks had grown, and people were gawking at the wrecks that dotted the road. He looked at the driver he’d left on the bench, and the man was moaning in discomfort.

“Hey,” Charlie said, kneeling at the man’s side. “How are you holding up?”

The man tilted his head to the side, his tone deadpan. “Like I got in a car wreck.”

Charlie smirked. “The phones are down, but we need to get that cut on your head looked at. Can you walk?”

“How far?” the man asked.

Charlie gestured to the south. “Seattle General is about five blocks away. Probably a ten or fifteen-minute walk.” He looked back at the big guy, who was now staring down the road in the same direction, dreading the trip on foot. “Think you can make it?”

“Do I have a choice?” he asked, grumbling.

Charlie stood and extended his hand. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

The man regarded Charlie’s hand then finally grabbed it so he could help him off the bench, and slung his arm around Charlie’s shoulder as he wobbled, unsteady on his legs.

“What’s your name?” Charlie asked as the pair started their slow limp down the sidewalk.

“Mel,” he answered. “Short for Melvin.” He then turned a sharp eye at Charlie. “But only my mother gets to call me Melvin.”

“I’m Charlie. Everybody just calls me Charlie.”

Mel rolled his eyes at the attempted humor and used his free hand to stem the blood flow from his gash.

People shouted at one another about who was at fault. People with confused expressions and slack jaws stared up at the dark stoplights. Desperate hands gripped dead phones.

The longer they walked, the more people stepped outside, crowding the streets, gazing out over the wrecks. Confusion spread through the thickening crowds like wildfire, though reactions varied.

Arguments were shouted between strangers over the wreckage of vehicles, concern flitted between friends over their disabled phones, and the steady hands of parents wavered as they attempted to calm their children’s fears. And the fears only grew worse with size of the crowds.

Twice, Charlie was shouldered by men and women running past them. Their paths were directionless. It was motion without purpose, and every time someone in the crowd started to run, two more joined them.

Uncertainty spread through the street like a virus, a herd mentality taking control, and it wasn’t long until Charlie and Mel were fighting against the panic, their pace too slow for the growing desperation of the mob.

“Gah! Hey, watch it!” Mel looked behind him at a kid who wasn’t looking and had slammed into Mel’s big body. “What the hell has gotten into people?”

Charlie’s senses heightened, his mouth going dry as he shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Got to be something with electronics,” Mel said.

“What do you mean?”

“I tried using my phone while you were calling the cops. And before I crashed, the power steering and car engine shut off. All of that stuff is run by computers, right?” Mel peeled away the towel and examined the fresh blood then grimaced. “Christ, it just won’t stop bleeding.”

But while Mel was focused on his wound, Charlie lingered on those words. There was definitely a connection. But he knew of nothing capable of turning every piece of technology off like a flip of a light switch.

“Gah! Hang on.” Mel shuffled to a stop, forcing Charlie to halt as well. His breathing was labored, and his cheeks had gone pale. “I just need a minute.” He gestured to a nearby windowsill, and Charlie helped him over.

Mel collapsed back against the window, his head thumping against the tinted glass, and he shut his eyes. “How much farther?”

Charlie placed his hands on his hips, and the growing crowds forced him close to the window with Mel. They’d barely made it a block. “It’s close.”

“My head just won’t stop throbbing.” Mel leaned forward, but Charlie pushed him back to an upright position.

“Just keep pressure on it,” Charlie said. “You might have a concussion.”

“Christ, I think I’m going to be sick.”

This time, Charlie let Mel hunch forward but kept pressure with the towel over the cut. But while he held Mel, Charlie still couldn’t peel his eyes away from the panicked pedestrians.

It was as though everyone had caught the same scent in the air, pushing them toward the edge. The longer he and Mel remained out and exposed like this, the worse Charlie’s anxiety grew.

“We should go.” Charlie spoke quickly, and his heart pounded in his chest. He looked down both sides of the street then grabbed Mel’s hand and pulled him off the ledge.

“Whoa, man. Take it easy.” Mel tried to resist, but he was too weak to fight back. “My head is killing me, my back hurts, I’m tired, and I don’t—”

Several quick pops created a forced silence in the crowded streets. Every head turned in unison toward the commotion coming from a few blocks down.

Charlie frowned and squeezed Mel’s arm tighter. “Was that…”

Gunshots and screams broke the silence, this time triggering a massive tidal wave of pedestrians into a sprint, clamoring over one another and flooding the streets.

Bodies flew past Charlie and Mel, nearly knocking the pair over as the ripple effect was exacerbated by more people screaming and running, all brought on by more gunshots that grew louder and drew nearer.

“Oh my god,” Mel whispered with trembling lips.

But as the tides of chaos heightened, Charlie kept his eyes focused on the cross street two blocks down. It was the source of the flood of people, and while fear gripped Charlie, his curiosity forced him to watch. He needed to see what it was. He needed to see what they were facing.

“Charlie, c’mon!” Mel tugged harder, and Charlie relinquished a step. “What are you doing?”

Charlie looked back toward Mel and saw the fear spread across the man’s face, the exposed gash on his forehead, and the sea of bodies flooding past them on the sidewalk. But he turned to face the source of the gunfire just in time to witness the masked men emerging from the street, shooting at anything that moved.

3

Flashes ejected from the rifle muzzles in rhythm with the gunfire. The masked men fired without mercy, without hesitation.

Random members of the fleeing crowd dropped, their bodies flung forward, and they crashed into the pavement and lay motionless as the gunmen advanced down the street, widening their kill zone.

“Charlie!”

Mel’s voice broke through the daze of anger and fear that muddled Charlie’s senses, and pulled him back to the present.

“C’mon!” Mel tugged at Charlie’s arm, and they joined the streams of retreating human targets screaming in a stampede of chaos away from the wolves on the hunt.

Charlie fell into stride with Mel. The big man moved quickly now, the sudden burst of speed and endurance derived from a release of adrenaline.

Charlie turned at the waist, away from the screams, gunfire, gunmen, and death as they progressed down the street. They needed to get off the main road and out of the shooters’ path.

Charlie skidded to a stop, forcing Mel to stop with him. Bodies slammed against them, and people scrambled to get around the pair, nearly trampling the two of them in the process.

“Where are you going?” Mel asked.

Charlie tugged him down a side street, steering them away from the crowds and their unchoreographed escape, and pushed a reluctant Mel down a dark alley, the tall buildings on either side blocking out the sun.

“Just keep going.” Charlie shoved Mel toward the light at the end of their dark tunnel, and just before they reached the end of the alley, Charlie turned back to find the crowds gone.

For a few seconds, it was nothing but empty roads, then another gunshot announced the shooters’ presence, and the line of masked men filled the alleyway’s narrow view of the street.

One of the masked men pivoted toward the alley and stopped when he locked eyes with Charlie, and time slowed.

The gunman aimed at Charlie, who spun around and pushed Mel harder and faster toward safety at the alley’s end.

Sunlight was only steps away when gunshots thundered, and Charlie turned a sharp right out of the alley and onto the street, his speed and momentum sending both himself and Mel to the concrete.

Both men landed violently on the hot pavement, but Charlie scrambled to his feet first and pushed himself back up against the wall of the building near the alley’s exit.

“What the fuck, man?” Mel wallowed on the pavement like a walrus, flopping over from his belly to his back with a strained effort.

Charlie peered around the corner, only a sliver of his skull viewable from the other end of the alley, but the army of monsters in masks had already passed, the thunderous gunshots and terrified screams fading farther north.

Charlie pulled away from the end of the alley and kept his back flush up against the wall. He shut his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest, and the heat from the sun overwhelming his senses.

“Hey!”

Charlie opened his eyes and looked at the hand on his shoulder then at Mel, whose face was covered in a fresh coat of crimson.

“You all right?” Mel wiped at his face, but his sleeves were already so covered with blood he only succeeded in spreading the blood instead of ridding himself of it.

“Yeah,” Charlie said, pushing himself off the wall. “I’m fine.”

Charlie stepped out into the street, his attention focused south. More car wrecks dotted the roads, but the streets were less crowded, at least by the living.

Bodies were sprawled out over the pavement, facedown, faceup, blood seeping from their clothes and running over the roads like a river.

“I can’t see shit, man,” Mel said, and he started to cry, smearing blood over his eyes. “I just want to go home.”

“You need stitches,” Charlie said. “The hospital’s close. C’mon.” Charlie grabbed Mel’s arm and placed it back over his shoulders, then he led him down the sidewalk.

Charlie kept his attention everywhere but on Mel. He didn’t want them to get snuck up on, and the last thing he needed was another surprise.

But while the gunfire died down and the screams faded, Charlie noticed other sounds replacing death and fear. The crash of glass.

The large window of a retail store full of clothes on the opposite side of the street was suddenly smashed with a rock. Dozens of hands reached for anything they could grab, then the people sprinted away with their loot.

Two men wearing saggy gym pants, sneakers, and tank tops quickly flung open the passenger-side door of an E-Class Mercedes and grabbed whatever they could carry then sprinted to the next car, where they repeated the process.

More glass shattered along the storefronts that Charlie and Mel passed, and the number of bodies scurrying from shattered windows to shattered windows multiplied.

Clothes, bags, jewelry, electronics, food, liquor—anything and everything that could be carried in arms and hands was trucked away from the stores as fast as the people carrying them could flee.

“Christ, people are losing their minds,” Mel said, breathing heavily and struggling to keep pace with Charlie’s strides.

The number of people joining the looting multiplied. It was like an airborne disease, the symptoms violently contagious and infecting anyone that was close.

“Just keep your head down and keep moving.” Charlie kept hold of Mel, forcing the big man past his point of failure. But as they neared the hospital, the crowds thickened, the world devolving into violence and chaos.

Charlie veered into the road, weaving around the never-ending line of car wrecks that clogged the streets.

“Help!”

Charlie frowned. “Did you hear that?” He glanced left and right, still propping Mel up.

“I can’t hear, I can’t see, and I can’t fucking walk anymore, man.” Mel sagged lower, and Charlie struggled to keep him upright.

“Please! Help!”

Charlie’s ears perked up again. The cry for aid had been faint and muffled. “There.” He spun another few degrees and looked past a bad wreck where a cluster of men scurried past with their arms crammed full of clothes.

Charlie shuffled Mel over to a nearby SUV and propped him up against it, ignoring the big man’s questions as he darted over to the source of the cries for help.

“My daughter! Please, help!”

Charlie followed the woman’s voice to a car turned over on its roof. The doors were mangled, and half of the roof had caved in. Charlie dropped to his hands and knees, peered into the shattered driver’s side window, and found a bloodied woman in a business suit.

She cried when she saw Charlie. “My daughter.” Her voice wavered, and she tried to turn around, but the wreck had pinned her in. “I can’t see her.” Her lips quivered. “I can’t hear her.”

“Just hang on, ma’am.” Charlie investigated the back seat and saw a pair of legs lying motionless on the ceiling.

The rear driver’s side door was completely sealed off, so Charlie hurried around to the other side and slammed into a young man sprinting in the opposite direction.

“Fuck you, man!” the kid shouted but didn’t stop running, and Charlie didn’t bother to stop, already on his hands and knees on the other side.

And when Charlie ducked his head low enough to get a view of the back seat,.

“Is she okay?” the mother asked, shouting from the front seat.

“She’s fine.” Charlie couldn’t fit his whole body inside the small sliver of space, and his arm scraped against some pieces of glass, drawing blood, but he managed to grab hold of the girl’s calf and pulled.

Charlie made sure to move the girl slowly and carefully, unsure of the type of injuries that she might have but knowing that he couldn’t call an ambulance to help him figure it out.

Carefully cradling the girl in his arms, Charlie was able to find a pulse, and he noticed that she was still breathing.

He ducked his head back into the rear seats. “I think she’s okay, just knocked out.” Charlie carefully laid the girl down. “I’m going to come in and get you, all right? Just hang on.” And then he caught a whiff of something.

The mother coughed, as smoke billowed from the engine.

Charlie ducked his head into the car again, his movements harried. “Just hang on!” He would have jumped in to get her out right away, but he didn’t want to risk the girl by putting her in danger even more.

Charlie scooped the little girl into his arms then sprinted back to where he’d left Mel and breathed relief when he found him in the same spot. He put the girl down next to him before he could even react then ran away.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mel asked.

Charlie turned around at the waist. “Just watch her!”

A crowd gathered as the plume of smoke rising from the car’s belly worsened, but despite the screams for help coming from inside the overturned vehicle, nobody moved.

Charlie skidded to his knees again and reached his arm through the smoke, which was already starting to sting his eyes as he groped for the woman’s shoulder. “Grab onto my arm!”

Fingernails dug into his skin, and Charlie pulled. The first hard yank was met with resistance and a harsh yelp from the woman.

Charlie released her arm and poked his head inside, sweating from the heat of the fire. The smoke thickened, and struggling for breath and with his eyes burning, he looked up at the seat and found the woman’s legs were pinned beneath the dash.

Charlie pressed his hand against it and pushed, and the plastic cracked but refused to budge. He let go and hacked, struggling to breathe. He backed out and noticed the flames spreading closer.

The sight of the fire nearly made him flee, unsure if he would be able to pull her out in time and unsure if it would matter. But just when he was about to turn, a man appeared on his left, shouting something at him.

“What?” Charlie asked, coughing through his reply.

“We’ll pull her out together!” he shouted then dropped to a knee.

The pair reached underneath at the same time, and Charlie stopped his new partner before they made the same mistake that he did.

“She’s pinned, so we need to wiggle her free from the dash! Push up as hard as you can.” He turned to the woman. “Ma’am, you need to pull your legs out as quick as you can. Okay?”

The smoke grew so thick that she couldn’t speak, save for coughing, but she managed to nod.

“One, two, three, pull!” Charlie pressed up with all of his might, and the stranger did the same. This time, the dash buckled, and the woman was freed. “Get her out!”

The pair grabbed her arms, tugging her out of the driver’s seat just as the flames engulfed the rest of the car.

Smoke steamed off of the woman’s pants and shirt, and she wallowed from side to side, hacking and coughing so hard that she vomited. Charlie looked away from the woman and toward the fire, which had completely consumed the vehicle.

“My daughter.” The woman grabbed Charlie’s arm, pulling his attention back toward her.

“She’s okay,” Charlie replied, helping the woman pick herself up off of the pavement. “But we need to get you two to a hospital. You probably have smoke-inhalation damage.” He took her over to her daughter, who had thankfully woken up, and the world around the mother dissolved as she cried and hugged her child.

Charlie smiled as he stood next to Mel, who stared at the fire now blazing from the car.

“You’re one crazy son of a bitch, you know that?” Mel asked then laughed as he slapped Charlie’s shoulder.

But while the good deed filled Charlie with pride, the continuing dissolve of society around him returned the itch to keep moving. “C’mon. We still need to get to the hospital.”

“Oh good,” Mel said, taking Charlie’s arm. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

4

The remainder of the journey to the hospital revealed the widespread nature of whatever event had taken place. A cloud of chaos and confusion had descended upon the city, and while Charlie had hoped the hospital would act as a place of order and stability, those aspirations were dashed when they finally arrived.

Charlie stopped at the edge of the parking lot, which was filled with people hunched over their engines, scratching their heads. People rushed in and out of the open doors, the entrance of the hospital dark and ominous compared to the sunny afternoon.

“What are you doing?” Mel asked, slurring his words due to exhaustion. “We’re here. Let’s go.”

“I don’t know if…” Charlie shook his head. “Never mind.” He looked behind him, checking on the mother carrying her little girl. “How are you holding up?”

The little girl rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. Both of their faces were covered with soot. The mother’s business clothes were torn and ragged, and she coughed as she nodded. “We’re okay.” She adjusted her little girl in her arms and kissed her forehead.

Charlie weaved around the cars in the lot, overhearing the conversations of the baffled motorists.

“It won’t even turn over.” A man was hunched over his sedan, fingers black with engine grease. “It was fine this morning.”

A pair of women two spots over had the hood of their van propped up. “The battery was just changed, so it can’t be that.”

Her friend flapped her arms at her sides. “Terry, I need to get to work.”

“Well, what do you want me to do, Charlotte?” She fished her phone out of her pocket and waved it in front of her friend’s face. “Car doesn’t work. Phone doesn’t work. We’re out of luck!”

Charlie hastened his pace. While the parking lot hadn’t boiled over into the same chaos as the rest of the city, Charlie felt it simmering, and he didn’t want to be there for when those first bubbles spilled over.

Following a flood of other people inside, Charlie blinked a few times so his eyes adjusted to the fading light.

Nurses hurried between patients and doctors, each of them pulled in a hundred different directions. Questions and screams funneled together, the noise inside the ER of the hospital akin to a stadium roar.

All of the lights in the ceiling were out, and from what Charlie could see, the hospital had no power.

“That can’t be possible,” Charlie said. “They have generators, backup power supplies. What the hell is going on?”

“Jesus,” Mel said. “I should have just gone home.”

Charlie spotted an open chair and walked Mel over and gently set him down in it. The mother and daughter followed.

“I’ll get someone to look at you,” Charlie said.

“Thank you,” the mother said.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Mel groaned then collapsed into a puddle of exhaustion in his seat.

Charlie weaved around the nurses and patients, his eyes locked onto the back of a nurse who happened to be the only one behind the counter.

“Excuse me, ma’am. I have a—”

“Patricia!” The nurse spun around, looking right over Charlie’s left shoulder, and extended a folder that almost scraped Charlie’s cheek. “Room twenty-five!”

“Thanks!” A hand reached past Charlie’s face.

“Ma’am, if I can just—”

“Mark!” The nurse looked to her left, her hair blocking out most of her profile. “Two-two-seven needs their insulin within the next hour.”

“Thanks, Liz!”

The nurse finally spun around from the filing cabinets, and heaved a stack of papers onto the desk where Charlie waited. She worked her fingers along the edges of the files, separating them quickly and efficiently.

“Miss, I need—”

“Just one minute, sir.” Liz held up her finger, her attention still focused on the paperwork.

Without thinking, Charlie reached over the desk and snatched the nurse’s wrist.

Liz snapped her head up, flinging the bangs off of her forehead, while a few strands framed a pretty, tanned face with green eyes that flashed anger.

“I have a man who needs stitches, and a little girl and her mother who need to be checked for smoke-inhalation damage.” Charlie spoke calmly, but it did little to calm the nurse’s anger.

Liz yanked her arm back hard, and Charlie relinquished his grip. “You always touch things that don’t belong to you?” She returned to her paperwork, quickly flipping through the file.

A doctor appeared from behind the side entrance to the station, never fully coming to a stop as he passed through. “Liz, I need—”

“Five hundred milligrams, and make sure you have someone keep an eye on her. She tends to seize up after a treatment!”

Charlie continued to lean over the counter. “I know you’re busy, but there are people that need to be looked at out here.”

“And there are people who are already here that are dying because we don’t have any power and our systems are down—shit.” Liz quickly tossed aside a file and pressed her hands to her temples as she shook her head.

Another doctor appeared from the opposite direction. “Liz, you find it?”

“No, it must be in the basement.”

“All right, I’ll send someone else down.”

Liz peeled her face away from the folders, defeated.

“Please,” Charlie said. “It’ll only take a minute.”

Liz regarded Charlie, her hands on her hips, then nodded. “I’ll find a room.”

“Thank you,” Charlie said.

With the amount of people running around, Charlie was doubtful that they’d be able to find any open space, but Liz secured a bed with a curtain and an additional nurse to help with Mel’s stiches while Liz gave the mother and daughter oxygen.

“What is it?” the little girl asked, scooting closer to her mother for protection.

Liz held up the oxygen mask that was attached to the large green tank that she’d dragged into the room. She moved closer so the little girl could see. “It’s not as scary as it looks. See?” She placed the mask over her face and took a deep breath. She smiled when she pulled it away and held it up for the little girl to try. “It’ll help make you feel better. Get rid of that cough.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” the mother said, urging her daughter to try.

The little girl grabbed the mask from the nurse’s hands and held it for a little while before she hesitantly placed it against her face then giggled after her first breath. “It’s like wind.”

“Yup,” Liz said. “And that wind will blow that smoke right out of your lungs.” She winked up at the mother as the girl did as she was told, and the more the little girl inhaled, the more she laughed.

“Might want to pass some of that over here,” Mel said. “I could use some of the good stuff.”

“Sir, I need you to stay still.” The nurse repositioned Mel’s head to face forward.

“Sorry,” Mel said.

Charlie stood in the doorway to the room, and Liz walked over to him as the mother and daughter passed the oxygen back and forth. “Thank you.”

“It’s my job,” Liz said.

“I know, but still.”

Liz nodded, picking at the dirt beneath her nails. “And what about you? Any injuries to report?”

“I’m fine,” Charlie said.

“So, what, you’re one of those tough guys that don’t like doctors?”

Charlie laughed, shaking his head. “No, ma’am.”

Liz wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. Don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel like my mother.” She poked her head around Charlie and out into the hallway, which remained busy. “You know, ten minutes after the power went out and everyone’s phones went down, I saw some nurses and doctors just walk out and leave.” She shook her head then turned to Charlie. “Not everyone would have done what you did for these people.”

The little girl on the cot giggled, fogging up the oxygen mask. Charlie smiled. “People want to do the right thing. They just get scared sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, I should get back to work.” Liz placed her hand on Charlie’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t forget to take some of that oxygen—”

Charlie frowned as he watched the confusion spread over Liz’s face as she glanced down the hall.

“What in the world?” Liz asked.

Charlie spun around and saw hospital staff and patients flood through the double doors and out of the ER, glancing behind them on their sprint.

Gunfire thundered, accentuated by the narrow hallway, and whatever semblance of order remained in the hospital dissolved into hysteria and chaos.

People burst from their rooms, clogging the hallway as they joined the massive retreat from danger.

Charlie quickly moved toward the cot and grabbed the mother and daughter off the bed. “We need to go!”

Mel, Liz, and the second nurse followed Charlie out of the room and into the hallway, ducking and shuddering with every gunshot.

People randomly hurried into rooms, seeking shelter, but Charlie didn’t stop moving forward and prevented anyone from his group doing the same. Hiding was a mistake.

“This way!” Liz appeared on Charlie’s left, motioning for people to follow her, and Charlie steered his people in the same direction.

Before Charlie turned the corner at the end of the hallway, he glanced behind himself one last time.

The masked men left a wake of bloodied bodies as they marched down the hall, opening doors and firing into the dark rooms.

Fear propelled everyone forward, and among the people in the crowd, Charlie saw a familiar face.

“Mel!”

The big man ran as fast as his body allowed, the fresh stitches on his forehead barely holding together as he fell farther and farther behind in the pack. He stretched out his arms as if Charlie could reach him from the fifty feet that still separated them. “Wait!”

Gunfire forced several more bodies to the floor, arms flailing forward and blood welling up from the wounds on their backs.

Tears broke loose from Mel’s eyes and streaked down his face, cutting through the dried blood as he struggled for breath.

“Run, Mel!” Charlie lingered by the corner in the hallway, the terrorists closing in, moving quickly as they pumped bullets into the backs of innocent victims, while the cowards smiled behind the anonymity of their masks.

Angered by the sight of so much needless carnage and death, Charlie took a step toward them, and if it weren’t for the hand that pulled him back, he would have been killed.

“We need to go!” Liz shouted, struggling to keep Charlie from rushing into the madness.

But Mel was close. Charlie stretched out his hand and grabbed the big man then yanked him around the corner, evading the lead that collided with the wall.

“Go!” Charlie shoved Mel forward, following Liz through the hallways, and with every additional turn down the winding hospital halls, Charlie lost his sense of direction. He was in Liz’s hands now.

“Not much farther,” Liz said breathlessly as they sprinted through the halls. She periodically pounded on doors and shouted to anyone they passed to find the nearest exit. Some people listened. Most didn’t.

The noise of gunfire faded the farther they ran, but even with the distance between them and the killers, no one stopped running until they reached the emergency-exit doors.

Sunlight flooded the dark hallways, and streams of people poured out of the hospital building, sprinting away from the danger inside.

Charlie slowed to a stop, mostly because Mel and the others had stopped to rest.

“What the hell is going on?” Mel screamed, and his cheeks flushed bright red. “They’re just… killing people!” He ran his stubby fingers over the thin wisps of hair on his scalp. He spun in circles, hyperventilating.

“Mel,” Charlie said, his arms passively stretched out as he slowly approached. “Calm down. You need to keep it together.”

Mel smacked Charlie’s hand away. “We’re already dead, man! We’re already fucking dead!” He shuddered and turned away.

Charlie looked at the rest of the group and found similar expressions of distress. They needed to get out of the city. All of them.

“He’s right,” Charlie said.

“Wh-What do you mean, ‘he’s right’?” The mother with the little girl held her daughter tighter and shook her head. “You really think we’re going to die?”

Charlie hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He didn’t want to provide additional panic, but he didn’t want to give them false hope. “The city is falling apart, and I haven’t seen any person in authority since the bullets started flying. No cops, no ambulances, nothing.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” Liz asked. “Where do we go?”

“Out of the city,” Charlie answered. “Stay with any friends or family and get away from populated areas.” He pointed to the hospital and the city beyond. “Those monsters are attracted to densely populated areas.”

“Our apartment is in the city!” the mother cried. “We don’t have anywhere else to go.” The daughter whimpered, and the mother held her tighter. “Shh. It’s okay, baby. I didn’t mean to yell.”

Whispers of fear and doubt circled the group, and Charlie wasn’t sure if his next move was the smartest, but he did know that it was the right thing to do.

“I have an orchard,” Charlie said, his voice cutting through the group’s chatter and once again turning their attention toward him. “It’s east of the city. My family owns it, and we have plenty of space. Anyone is welcome to come with me if you don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Really?” the mother whispered. “Oh, thank you!” She rushed over and flung her arms around Charlie’s neck. “Thank you so much.”

The mother slid off of him, and Charlie smirked, hoping that the heat flushing his cheeks wasn’t too obvious, then looked at Mel and Liz.

“My hotel was in the center of downtown, and home for me is back in Chicago, so…” Mel shrugged. “Guess I’m with you, cowboy.”

Charlie turned to Liz, whose attention was on the hospital. He walked over to her. “What about you?”

Liz paused, taking a moment, but eventually nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Getting out of the city sounds like the best option.”

Charlie nodded then led the group away from the hospital. “We better get going. It’s a full day’s walk on foot.”

“Great.” Mel exhaled, shaking his head. “Because I haven’t done enough of that today.”

5

Seattle’s skyline grew smaller behind them, and the landscape transformed from skyscrapers and tall office buildings to family homes in local neighborhoods.

But the blackout that plagued the streets of downtown Seattle had spread to the suburbs. Charlie watched as neighbors convened with one another, everyone unable to answer the question that raced through their minds.

How did this happen?

Their group caught a few stares from the locals as they passed, but the area was far less violent and dangerous than the city’s epicenter, at least for the moment.

Mel checked another car parked in the middle of the street. “Dammit.” He slammed the door shut and stomped his feet, his arms like noodles at his sides. “How can none of them work?” He rolled his head around on his neck then fell back in line next to Sarah and Adelyn, the mother and daughter, both of whom hadn’t done a tenth of the complaining that Mel had.

“How much farther?” Mel asked.

“I told you it was a hike,” Charlie answered.

“You’d think that we were dragging him along by force.” Liz kept her voice low and walked on Charlie’s left. She’d kept pace with him since the hospital.

“Didn’t strike me as the outdoorsman type when I found him.” Charlie smirked, and Liz mirrored the expression.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you for this,” Liz said, keeping her eyes on the ground. “So thank you.” She looked up at him. “I don’t know many people that would take a bunch of strangers to their home. Especially not under these circumstances.”

“Couldn’t just leave you guys with nowhere to go,” Charlie said matter-of-factly.

Liz laughed. “Yes. You could have.”

Charlie watched the dimples appear on both sides of Liz’s cheeks. He liked her smile. “Are you from around here?”

“No,” Liz answered. “I moved here from San Diego three months ago. Seattle General had an opening for a management position for nurses, and I threw my hat in the ring.”

“So you got it?” Charlie asked.

“No, but they liked me enough to offer me more money than my old job, so I packed up and moved.” Liz shrugged and twisted her fingers, which Charlie noticed were devoid of any rings. “There wasn’t anything keeping me in the city besides the job.”

“I visited San Diego once. It was nice. Did you grow up there?”

“No. I was an army brat, so we moved around a lot. I’ve lived in Germany, Tennessee, Texas, Florida, California, and Hawaii.”

“I’ve never left the west coast.”

“It must have been nice to grow up in one place,” Liz said, a glint of nostalgia in her voice. “I always wondered what it would have been like to set roots down.”

“I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.” Charlie shut his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his back. “It’s nothing but greenery that stretches to the horizon.”

“It’ll be nice to get out of the city.” Liz inhaled as though she hadn’t breathed in days and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “I could use a change of scenery.”

Mel appeared between them, huffing labored breaths. “So, what do you guys think is happening? I mean, it must be terrorists, right? Probably Muslims or something?”

“And you could tell that from the masks over their faces?” Liz asked.

“Yeah, maybe I could.” Mel rolled his eyes. “It’s no secret who hates this country.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Charlie said.

Sarah positioned herself on Charlie’s right. Adelyn was asleep on her shoulder. “Do you think that those gunmen had anything to do with the power going off?”

“And how the hell did they manage to turn my phone off?” Mel fished out his mobile and pressed the button repeatedly. “Some kind of internet virus or something?”

“When do you think everything will turn back on?” Sarah asked. “And why haven’t we seen the military or—”

Charlie stopped, holding both hands in the air. “I have just as many questions as you do, but right now, what’s important is staying mobile and staying alive. We’ll have plenty of time to figure this out later, but right now, let’s just keep our heads cool and focus on what’s in front of us. Getting out of harm’s way. Okay?”

Sarah nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

Mel grumbled, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Whatever.”

Charlie started walking again, and silence fell over the group. He knew they were just scared. And the more fear you pumped into somebody’s heart, the wilder they were going to become. It was simple survival instincts, and whenever people started harvesting those primal thoughts, shit was bound to hit the fan.

The sun sank lower in the sky, and conversation died down.

When they made it out of the second neighborhood, Charlie decided it was a good time to stop and check the pulse of the group. And to make sure that Mel didn’t pass out from exertion.

“How’s everyone doing?” Charlie asked.

“I can’t… move.” Mel collapsed onto the hood of a parked BMW, and his shirt pulled up and exposing his white, hairy belly.

“I’m thirsty, Mommy,” Adelyn said.

Sarah pushed the sweaty bangs off her daughter’s forehead and softly shushed her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll be done soon.”

Charlie glanced around and spotted a convenience store down the road. “Does anyone have any cash?”

“I do,” Mel answered, only lifting one arm from the Beemer’s hood.

“Left my purse back at the hospital,” Liz said.

Charlie gathered the cash, and with his own money, they had close to one hundred bucks. “I’ll get us some water and snacks. Any special requests?”

“Fritos,” Mel said. “And a Mountain Dew, and a Starbucks double-shot espresso!”

With the orders filled, Charlie headed over to the convenience store while the group parked under the shade of a nearby tree.

Charlie approached the convenience store warily. The bars along the windows of the building were a sign of the neighborhood. The parking lot was empty, but the door was propped open.

Charlie paused at the entrance, peering inside. “Hello?”

No answer.

Hesitant, Charlie crossed the dark threshold.

The inside of the store was just as empty as the parking lot, and minimal sunlight shone through the tinted windows, exposing the looted aisles. Charlie stared at the cash in his hand, feeling foolish for even bringing it.

“Right.” He stuffed the money back into his pocket and picked up a basket by the door.

Charlie headed for the coolers first. Although the power was out, the drinks inside were still cool. He piled as many bottles of water as he could into one basket then perused the snack aisle, where he loaded up on jerky, nuts, and the limited fruit selection, which consisted mainly of bananas.

With the basket overflowing, Charlie was about to head back toward the front to grab another when he heard a voice.

“Please.” It was a frightened whisper, breathless.

“Quiet!”

The order was followed by a harsh slap, and Charlie set the basket down. He crept along the aisle, searching for anything heavy that he could use as a weapon, but the snacks and household items didn’t provide many options.

A bottle of bleach caught his eye, and he removed it from the shelf, unscrewing the top as he inched closer toward the whimpering moans.

“I already told you there’s no money in the—”

Another slap, this one harder than the first. The whimpers worsened.

The noises led Charlie toward the back corner of the store. He paused at the end of the aisle, his shoulder against the wall. He turned slowly and saw an elderly woman by a safe, blood on her lip.

“Open it!” The gunman pointed a revolver at the old woman, anger and greed in his eyes, and the old woman started to turn the dial on the safe. Then Charlie made his move.

He flung the bleach into the man’s face, charging at him in the same motion. But the chemicals hit the gunman’s eyes before he could aim the pistol at Charlie, who tackled him to the floor.

Both men tumbled over one another, Charlie landing on top and pinning the robber down.

“Jesus fucking Christ, it burns!” The robber clawed at his eyes but kept them shut, his skin reddening from irritation.

Charlie flipped him over on his stomach and clamped his hands together. “Don’t move!” He quickly searched the floor for the gun but found it in the weathered hands of the old woman, who had it aimed at the thug who had tried to rob her.

“Easy,” Charlie said. “Lord knows he deserves it, but you don’t want something like this on your conscience.”

The old woman grimaced. “He needs a lesson in manners.” She adjusted her trembling grip on the pistol.

“You’re right.” Charlie stood, arms still outstretched as he moved closer to the woman and the gun. “But right now, what we need to do is make sure that you don’t do anything…” Charlie placed his hand on the gun, and the woman looked at him. “You’ll regret.”

With both of Charlie’s hands on the pistol, the old woman finally let go, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“I can’t see!” The robber squirmed on the floor, crying and thrashing. “I can’t fucking see!”

Charlie grabbed the kid by the scruff of his neck and picked him up off the floor. “You’re lucky to be breathing. Now move!” He shoved the guy forward, gun in hand, and marched him out the front.

Charlie wasn’t sure what he’d do, but he knew that he couldn’t kill him.

Outside, Charlie shoved the guy down the street, and he stumbled blindly, still clawing at his eyes.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” he shouted, spinning around, unable to find Charlie.

“You run and be thankful that you still have your life.” But when the man didn’t move, Charlie raised the pistol and fired a shot into the air. The man sprinted off, tripping over himself, and Charlie watched him until he disappeared down an alleyway.

Charlie stared down at the gun then flipped the safety on before tucking the weapon into his belt. He spun around and found the old woman staring in the direction that the robber had fled. “Are you all right?”

The old woman nodded then wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth. The name tag on her vest read Arlene. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Charlie turned back to his group of people, all of them staring at him in confusion over what they’d just witnessed. He turned back to Arlene. “Think you’d like to join us?”

“Sure.”

Arlene followed Charlie to the group, and introductions were made, but while they talked, Charlie glanced back down the road, and he wondered if he had made the right decision.

6

Like the rest of them, Arlene was now an orphan of the city. She had a small condo in a high rise on the outskirts, but after hearing the horror stories they’d told of what they’d encountered, she decided to join them on their journey toward the orchard.

And while the group kept most of their attention ahead of them, Charlie couldn’t keep his eyes in one direction for very long.

“Hey.” Liz appeared at Charlie’s side, tapping his elbow with her nearly empty water bottle. “You’ve been awfully quiet. Everything all right?”

Charlie nodded, but his eyes glanced toward Arlene, who was helping Sarah with Adelyn.

Liz noticed his glance. “She was lucky that you were there.”

“That’s what bothers me,” Charlie said.

“Why are you beating yourself up about it?” Liz asked. “She’s safe now.”

“Is she? Are any of us?” Charlie clenched his jaw before releasing the tension. “Is this what happens to people? Something goes wrong, and we lose our sense of decency?”

Liz turned and looked back at Arlene and hugged herself, rubbing her arms. “Fear makes people do crazy stuff.”

“No,” Charlie said, shaking his head. “What I saw in that man’s eyes wasn’t fear. It was lack of consequences. He didn’t think he’d get caught.”

The pistol was still in Charlie’s waistband, and he became more aware of its presence.

“I should have let her shoot him.”

“Hey.” Liz stepped in front of Charlie, stopping him and blocking his path. “Stopping someone from killing isn’t a bad thing.”

Charlie shook his head. “I’m not sure about that anymore.” He stepped around Liz and wondered how long they could stay alive in a world with no rules or laws.

Liz caught up to him. “You don’t get to decide who lives and who dies, Charlie. You’re not some judge, jury, and executioner.”

The words caught Charlie off guard, and he remained frozen in place as Liz walked on, joining the others up ahead.

Charlie watched them walk a while then lowered his gaze to the outline of the pistol beneath his shirt.

“Hey! Farm boy!”

Charlie looked ahead and found Mel waving his arms at a crossroads up ahead.

“Where to now?”

The road had reached a dead end, forcing the group either left or right. He looked left at the steep incline of the mountain terrain then to the left, where the road took them through a neighborhood.

“Don’t tell me we’re lost,” Mel said. “Jesus Christ.” He spun around in a circle then shook his head. “The one time I come to Seattle, and it decides to implode on itself.”

“Charlie?” Liz asked.

Charlie kept his voice down. “Left is quicker, but the terrain’s more difficult.”

Mel scoffed and walked away, flinging his empty water bottle into the woods. “Great. It’s either longer or harder.”

“We need to get to the farm before nightfall,” Charlie said. “Left will get us there quicker.”

“That gets my vote,” Arlene said.

“Whatever you think is best, Charlie,” Sarah said.

“I don’t care,” Mel replied.

The group looked to Charlie to make the final decision, and he nodded. “Left it is, then.”

With the sun fading behind them, the bottles of water were passed around, and their stash disappeared. Knowing that they were losing daylight, Charlie hastened his pace, but not everyone was able to keep up.

Liz jogged up to him. “Hey, Mel and Arlene need a break.”

“We need to make up time. We can’t stop every time someone needs a breather.” Charlie kept his tone short and didn’t relinquish the pace he’d set.

“I understand that, but we’ve been walking all day, and not everyone can keep up,” Liz said, stiffening her tone.

“Well, then they can find another place to stay.”

“Hey!” Liz grabbed Charlie’s arm and whipped him around, forcing him to stop. “You were the one who asked them to come along. You were the one who told them that they had a safe place to stay.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t realize I’d be the only one doing the heavy lifting.” Charlie flung Liz’s arm off of him and restarted his trek, but she wouldn’t let him go.

She blocked his path. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Open your eyes, Liz!” Charlie yelled, and she backed up. “You really think all of this is going to get fixed in a couple of days?”

Liz continued her retreat, and the rest of the group caught up.

Charlie laughed, his resolve cracking under the weight of everyone that had piled onto his back. “What the hell do you think is going to happen a day from now? Or a week? We’ve been walking all day, and you know what I haven’t seen aside from robbing and looting and attempted murder? Cops. Military. First responders of any kind. And you want to know why?”

“Charlie, stop it.”

“Because they’re taking care of their own families and friends!” Charlie shouted, his volume quieting everyone in the group, even Mel. “Which is what I should be doing, but no, I had to play the goddamn hero!”

“That’s enough.” Arlene stepped forward. “You will not talk about us that way, young man. You offered to help, and if we have been a burden, then we will relieve you of that burden.”

“Arlene, wait.” Liz rushed after her.

Charlie was unable to hear their hushed conversation.

“You really know how to inspire the crew, Captain,” Mel said, still catching his breath, his hands on his hips, then plucked the sweaty collar off of his chest.

“Not now, Mel.”

Mel leaned forward, his stance aggressive. “You think you’re better than us, farm boy? Well, you can take that little country accent all the way to your inbred family!”

It happened quickly, the rage rushing over Charlie and blinding him to his actions. It wasn’t until he heard Liz’s screaming that he realized he was on top of Mel the big man’s face was disfigured.

Charlie looked at his raised fist, which had matching blood dripping from its knuckles. He stared at it for a moment then stood and backed away from Mel as Sarah and Arlene walked over to check on him.

“I’m sorry. I—”

Liz shoved him hard. “What the hell are you doing?”

Charlie looked at his trembling, clenched hands and then at Mel. He shook his head, his mind spinning and his heart pounding. “I-I don’t know.”

“Fuck you, man!” Mel stumbled to his feet and shrugged off Sarah and Arlene’s help. “I don’t need this shit!”

“Mel, wait!” Liz attempted to follow, but Mel refused to slow down. Wherever the big man was going, he was going alone. She spun around and stomped her way over to Charlie then shoved him hard enough to push him back.

“Are you happy now?” Liz shoved him again, harder than the first time, before he even had a chance to answer. “Manage to get all of that off your chest? Huh?” She shoved him hard again.

“It’s not worth it, honey.” Arlene came up behind Liz and gently but firmly pulled her back. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

The words hurt, but it was the look in their eyes that stung worse. He had just joined the ranks of the same bastards that they were trying to escape.

Long after the group had left, Charlie stood there, staring at the blood on his hands, still in shock at the way he’d snapped.

After all of that talk about society collapsing and no law and order and people doing whatever they wanted, he had sunk into the same cesspool as the rest, and by the time he finally looked up, Liz and the rest of them were gone.

Slowly, Charlie turned toward home.

His pace was slow, and he struggled to keep his face forward. He continued to steal glances behind him.

But every time he did, he forced himself back around, reminding himself that he barely knew those people. He had a family to get back to, a home waiting for him.

Charlie dwelled on that thought for a moment, wondering what his parents would think about his actions. He knew what his mother would say, that he should turn around and apologize until he convinced them to keep going.

But it was his father’s voice that frightened him. Harold Decker was never a man who took handouts, and because of that, he was frugal with giving things away. And despite knowing that, he knew that his father would have knocked him flat on his ass for treating those people the way he had.

Charlie stopped, his boots scuffing against the pavement, and he turned. The road behind him turned through hills and trees, and alone in the quiet of nature, he knew that he’d made a mistake.

He took a single step forward, and his foot landed on the asphalt at the exact same moment the gunshot rang out.

7

The sound had traveled far, the gunshot nothing more than a faint pop. And while the first gunshot froze him stiff, the second triggered him into action. He sprinted forward, legs churning up the pavement, and the decline offered the aid of gravity.

A million different scenarios raced through his mind, and they multiplied and grew more horrific the farther he ran.

He listened for more gunfire, but the world had quieted to the smack of his boots on the ground and the labored breaths from his exertion. By the time he reached the crossroads where they departed, Charlie had to slow down. He glanced toward Seattle, knowing that they probably wouldn’t have gone back to the city. No matter how upset they were, he didn’t believe they’d head back into a warzone.

With the west not an option, Charlie squinted to the south at the neighborhood they had walked away from when they turned left at the crossroad.

Twilight had descended, making it hard to see, and he headed toward the neighborhood, checking down the sides of houses, searching for Liz or Arlene.

Unlike the other neighborhoods they passed, Charlie saw no one on the porches outside their homes, and most of the cars in the driveways looked as though they hadn’t been used in weeks.

Most of the homes were run-down, and foreclosure signs were plastered on several doors.

Charlie jogged three more blocks, glancing down each street but staying on the main road. Every street he passed, hope appeared then vanished when he found them empty.

They hadn’t been separated for that long, and the deeper Charlie moved into the neighborhood without finding them, the more anxious he grew.

Finally, he stopped.

Charlie spun in circles, no longer sure of where to go or what to do. He wanted to scream out their names, but giving away his position to whoever had fired the weapon wouldn’t help anyone.

Exhausted, he took a seat on the stoop of a nearby house. The windows were boarded up, and a stack of foreclosure papers had piled up on the porch.

Charlie looked at the neighboring houses on either side and saw similar notices posted on the doors. Half the neighborhood was like that.

He stared at the red foreclosure lettering, remembering all of the notices he had stacked back home at the orchard. What did all of those pieces of paper mean now? Maybe this had turned into a blessing. Of all the ways to keep the orchard, this phenomenon hadn’t even been on his list.

Charlie stood, and a nasty pop echoed from his knees. He shook out the pain that followed. His body had finally grown irritated from the day’s activities. And while a lifetime of work on the farm had left him in good shape, the day’s extraordinary events had put an unusual amount of wear and tear on his body.

Charlie limped the first few steps but then fell back into an easy stride by the time he passed the second house. To the west, the sun had completely dipped below the horizon, and twilight had ended.

Voices caught his attention ahead, and Charlie slowed to listen.

Laughter. It was faint, but it was laughter. He walked toward it, keeping quiet, and moved off the center of the road and onto the sidewalk then the yards of houses, so he had better cover.

The best-case scenario was finding Liz and the rest of them at a friend’s house, laughing and eating. He’d apologize, and everything would be fine.

But the closer he moved and the louder the laughter grew, he knew that it wasn’t his people. The laughter was wild and laced with anger.

Charlie approached the house at the corner of the street slowly then craned his head around and crouched low.

He saw three men five houses down the street. Each of them was seated in a folding chair on the front lawn, beers in their hands.

And while their conversation leaned on the side of rambunctious, Charlie didn’t see anything that made him believe that they were dangerous. That was until one of them stepped outside.

“Yo! You go and take care of that fat dude?”

“Bitch, he’s facedown in the ditch. He ain’t getting up.” The man who answered lifted his drink to his lips, laughing.

The man to his left, shirtless and with a large tribal tattoo on his shoulder, mocked his friend. “Yeah, you’re a real tough guy, huh?” He took a drink. “A fat guy and an old lady. Just a killer!”

Laughter burst from the group, and “the killer” flipped his middle finger at the group.

“Whatever,” Killer said. “At least we got those girls, right?”

“Yeah, if we can get close enough without them scratching our eyes out.”

“Well, you boys just don’t know how to treat a lady right.” Killer set the drink down then clapped his hands together. “Dr. Love is coming through!”

The rage that coursed through Charlie’s veins was so violent that he couldn’t stop shaking on his retreat from the corner. And the more they laughed, the tighter he squeezed his fists.

He reached for the pistol in his waistband, and while his first instinct was to turn the corner and charge down the street, firing off as many rounds as he could before those bastards had a chance to realize what was happening, he shoved that instinct back down to the pit of his stomach.

Gun still in his hand, Charlie took off back down the street he’d just come up in search of Mel and Arlene.

Charlie retraced his steps as quickly as he could, but he couldn’t remember any ditches that he’d seen along the way. He imagined that the group had run into those guys somewhere along the neighborhood, so they had to be close.

But it wasn’t until Charlie reached the beginnings of the run-down housing district that he saw the ditches running along either side of the road. He rushed over and found that they were deep, a steady stream of water and trash trickling through them, and he checked the right side first.

Charlie looked left then right but found nothing down in the dirty water as far as he could see. He rushed to the opposite side and checked again. The first look to his left, he saw nothing, and when he quickly turned his head in the other direction, he thought he saw nothing again. But he stopped himself and strained his eyes at a pair of lumps that had started blocking trash and water.

“Oh my god.” He sprinted down the road, his eyes never coming off of Mel and Arlene’s backs. Both of them were lying facedown in the ditch.

Never breaking stride on his run, Charlie dropped the five feet into the depths of the ditch, splashing the warm, dirty water up his pant legs, and dropped to a knee.

“Arlene,” Charlie whispered her name, his voice catching in his throat, as he carefully flipped her over, and he immediately jumped back.

Arlene’s head wobbled, and the bones along her broken neck ground and cracked against one another as her dead eyes fell on him.

Charlie sat there for a minute, just staring at Arlene’s blank expression. Growing up on a farm, he had seen life and death, but he’d never had that experience with a person. At least not this up close and personal. The harsh snap of Arlene’s neck represented violence Charlie had never seen before.

Slowly, Charlie pulled his eyes away from Arlene and looked at Mel. He made sure that he didn’t touch or step on any part of Arlene, but when he got closer to him, he already saw that he was dead.

The back of Mel’s head was bloody, as if he’d been hit with something before he was thrown down here. The blood on his skull hadn’t dried because of the water, and there was a light tinge of red that continually washed downstream.

But just to make sure, Charlie pressed his fingers against Mel’s neck. No pulse.

He looked at the gun in his hand then turned to Arlene and Mel one last time. “I should have stopped you. I should never have lost my temper. I should never have let you even come this way.” A tear squeezed through the anger and rolled down his cheek, and he quickly wiped it away.

It was the only one Charlie let fall, then he quickly climbed the dirt-packed wall of the ditch and returned to the road. His wet jeans clung to his legs like a second skin.

He sprinted back down the street and refused to let Liz and Sarah and little Adelyn succumb to the same fate. He was going to get them out of that house, no matter what.

8

Dripping with sweat and stinking of the ditch, Charlie skidded to a stop at the end of the same street corner where he’d seen the men in the yard, which now held nothing but empty chairs.

He retreated behind the house on the corner and stepped into the overgrown grass of its backyard. Four fences separated Charlie from the house where the girls were being held, and he moved quickly over the first two, which were both chain-link and only three or four feet tall.

The third fence was wood and taller than Charlie, but it had a side door.

The fourth fence was similar to the third, but this one only had an exit to the front of the house.

He scanned the fence, looking for cracks that offered him a view of what he’d encounter on the other side. The backyard was empty.

Before that changed, Charlie tucked the revolver in his pocket then pulled himself up and over the fence and landed hard on the balls of his feet, then he kept low on his sprint toward the back of the house.

He paused near the back door, reaching for the revolver and catching his breath. He slowly reached for the doorknob but found it locked.

“Shit.”

Carefully and quietly, Charlie crawled around toward the far side of the house and undid the latch on the gate’s exit from the backyard. He opened the gate only a crack and peeked at the other side.

He found the side yard clear of people, and he saw a potential entrance point. A basement window at ground level was cracked open. It looked big enough for Charlie to squeeze through, and he hurried over to check.

As he moved closer, he found the window smaller than he originally envisioned. But he opened it all the way, he was able to square his shoulders up and stick his head inside to get a better view.

It was dark, but after he blinked a few times, he saw the basement was crammed with boxes and old furniture.

Charlie backed out then shimmied into the window feet first, his back to the ground. His wet jeans scraped against the concrete sides, and when his legs were inside, his back started to pinch due to the harsh angle. He shimmied faster, trying to rid himself of the pain in his back, but he became stuck when he tried to pass his shoulders through.

He stuck his arms straight back, narrowing his shoulders as much as possible, and gravity did the rest of the work, pulling him down until he landed awkwardly on concrete.

Charlie winced, a harsh burn running down his right side, and when he pressed his palm against the pain, he felt something wet. When he examined his palm in the darkness and wiggled his finger, he was able to make out the dark crimson of blood.

A piece of jagged metal had cut him down his left side, from love handle to armpit, and while the slash only broke the first layer of skin, the length of the scrape had produced a significant amount of blood.

“Leave her alone!”

Charlie snapped his head up toward the ceiling, the rush of adrenaline overpowering the pain. He followed the screams and laughter toward the staircase that led up to the first floor of the house.

The door at the top of the stairs was cracked open, and Charlie tightened his grip on the pistol at his side. He counted four men that had been in the front yard, but there could be more inside.

Another scream. More laughter. Muffled cries.

He planted his foot on the first step of the staircase, testing it for noise. When all his weight was applied and no sound was made, he moved to the second, then the third, keeping a steady pace all the way to the top, where he paused.

Sweating and shaking, Charlie shut his eyes and tried to calm his unsteady hand. He needed to keep his wits about him if he was going to make it out of this alive. He inhaled deeply, held it, then exhaled slowly.

His muscles relaxed, and his heart rate lowered. It was now or never.

Charlie opened the door all the way, not bothering to check inside first and hoping to catch the bastards off guard. The revolver was exposed first, his arm outstretched, and then he stepped into the narrow hallway.

It was empty.

Doors lined both sides, and more laughter echoed from up front, but the cries for help were coming from inside the room down the hall and on the left.

Charlie paused at the door and positioned his ear close to the wood. The whispers inside were unintelligible, and he gently placed his hand on the knob. He turned it slowly, wincing with every little noise triggered by his movement.

When he couldn’t turn it any more, Charlie leaned his weight against the door. His heart hammered in his chest so hard that he was convinced everyone in the house heard him.

But when the door finally opened and no one had come barreling out of the room to attack him or yelled from the living room, Charlie realized that it was all in his head, and all of those concerns erased when he saw Sarah on her back on the bed, her t-shirt off, but still wearing her bra and jeans, and a man towering over her, his back to Charlie.

“You want to keep your daughter safe?” the killer asked. “Then you do what I tell you to.” He unbuckled his pants.

Charlie seized the moment and charged forward and cracked the pistol on the back of the man’s head then tackled him onto the bed and wrapped him in a choke hold.

The killer’s cheeks turned purple, and he bucked his hips, but Charlie squeezed tighter, knowing that if the man cried for help, they were all dead.

The killer gurgled, but then, slowly, he started to fade. The fight went out of him, and he passed out.

Exhausted, Charlie let him go then turned to Sarah, who was shaking on the bed, unable to form any coherent words.

“Sarah.” Charlie barely spoke above a whisper and tried to get her off the bed. “We need to go. Where are Adelyn and Liz?”

“The living room.” Sarah finally spit the words out, and she started to cry. “They have her there. Please, Charlie. You have to get her.”

Charlie hushed her and nodded. “I will. But I need to get you out. Come on.” He led Sarah by the hand into the hallway. He brought her toward the basement door then motioned her to go down. “There’s a window. Crawl out and wait for me there. If you hear anything, then I want you to run down the street, east, as far as you can, and I’ll catch up.”

“But my daughter—”

“I will bring her to you,” Charlie said. “I promise.”

Reluctant, Sarah descended the stairs, and Charlie turned his attention to the living room at the end of the hall.

Charlie moved quickly, unsure how long the killer in the room would be passed out. He didn’t know what he’d do, but he understood the time crunch.

“Hey, Ronnie! You need some help in there, man?”

The voice drew closer, and when the man rounded the corner of the hallway, drink in hand and smiling, Charlie raised the gun and fired.

Blood and liquor stained the carpet as the man and his cup crashed to the floor. With his cover blown, Charlie charged forward and was in the living room before the rest of the gang could react save for tossing their hands in the air.

“Don’t move!” He shifted his aim between clusters of the men. He counted six then saw Liz and Adelyn tucked in the corner, Liz crying as she quickly picked the girl up. “Liz, Sarah’s outside. Go now.”

With everyone else distracted by Charlie and his weapon, Liz scurried out the front door, leaving him alone with the six men in the confined space.

“Everyone get facedown on the floor, hands behind your heads,” Charlie said, his voice shaking due to the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

The group remained seated, their expressions ranging from fear to contempt, but none of them moved.

“Do it now!” Still no one moved, and Charlie began to sweat.

“You going to shoot us, boy?” One man stood slowly, his eyes locked on Charlie. “I don’t even think you’ve got enough bullets in there for everyone, so what happens when you run out?”

Charlie grimaced, finger inching over the trigger. Six men, four bullets—the math wouldn’t end well, not for him at least.

“I don’t want any more trouble,” Charlie said, his mouth dry. He retreated toward the hallway and the basement door.

“I think you’re just talk.” The leader snarled, taking a single step forward. “I don’t think you’ve got the balls to pull that trigger on all of us.”

“I said don’t move!” Charlie screamed, whipping the pistol in a forward motion, but the threat went unheeded.

And as the first man stood, the others slowly rose, feeding into their leader’s boldness, and it wasn’t long before they were all on their feet. Charlie was out of options.

He fired. The bullet screamed from the barrel of the revolver and dropped the leader.

The rest of the men charged, and Charlie pivoted his aim and fired again on his retreat toward the basement door. The bullets bought him some time, but he needed to move quickly.

He headed for the basement door and slammed it shut on the way down, leaping the stairs two, three at a time. When he hit the bottom, he spun around and fired back up at the basement door, forcing the men to stop, and then beelined it for the window, which was still open.

Charlie jumped, thrusting his head and shoulders through the window, and he clawed frantically at the grass as he pulled himself from the basement.

He rolled out just as the men reached the bottom, and he sprinted toward the road. He didn’t look back when his feet hit the pavement, but he was two houses down when the gunshots fired behind him.

Ahead, he saw Sarah and Liz with Adelyn. He screamed at them to keep running, and at the last second, Charlie turned his head around and watched three men with pistols chasing after him.

He fired one last shot then didn’t look back, and he didn’t stop running.

9

“Just keep going!” Charlie pushed them forward, continuing their sprint away from the neighborhood. He looked back twice as he steered what remained of their group to safety, and finally, after seven blocks, the chase ended, but Charlie didn’t let up their pace until Sarah couldn’t move anymore.

“I just need to stop,” she said, clutching Adelyn. “I’m sorry.” She collapsed with her daughter on the curb, holding her tight.

Charlie and Liz remained standing, and he grabbed her arm. “You all right?”

Liz nodded quickly, her movement jerky and uncoordinated. She was still in shock. “I’m fine.” She looked around, making sure they were alone.

A million words funneled through his mind but vanished by the time they reached his tongue. In his silence, Charlie kept staring down at the pistol still gripped in his hand. He’d held it for so long that it was as if the weapon were glued to his hand. It had become an extension of him.

The world had changed, and it seemed that he had unknowingly changed with it. But how much further would he have to go? How much more would he have to give up in order to survive? What else was it going to cost?

“We should really keep moving,” Charlie said.

Sarah nodded then stood.

“Do you need help holding her?” Liz asked.

“No,” Sarah answered. “I’m fine.”

With their pace slowed to a brisk walk, they faded deeper into the night, as silent as the world around them.

It didn’t take long for the trio’s pace to transform to a crawl, and with the night in full swing and them out of the neighborhood, Charlie knew they needed to camp somewhere.

Twice, Charlie caught Liz dozing off, and she jerked awake, quickly looking to see if he noticed.

Charlie glanced around. Their surroundings were nothing more than woods, night already upon them. “We’ll stop at the next building we find.”

Liz and Sarah nodded in agreement, and after another half a mile, they came across an abandoned gas station that looked as if it had been shut down for years.

“That’ll work,” Charlie said.

The pumps were rusted, and the overhang that had once protected the customers from the weather had collapsed.

The glass along the front windows had grown dirty and cloudy with time, but the door was unlocked, and Charlie stepped inside first to make sure the coast was clear. The last thing he wanted to do was have to use that weapon again. His hand started to shake at just the thought of it, and he was glad that Liz wasn’t there to see it.

Aside from some broken glass, rusted car parts, and some overgrowth sneaking in through the cracks of the building, it was empty.

Charlie stepped out and found Liz shivering near one of the pumps and staring down at her feet while Sarah rubbed Adelyn’s back. “It’s clear.”

Sarah entered first and took a corner of the room, then Liz stumbled over, swaying from side to side, as she continued to hug herself.

Charlie entered last, shutting the door behind him. “Probably best to stay up here near the cash register and out of the garage. I don’t think I can get those bay doors shut.”

But when Charlie looked at Sarah and Adelyn, the mother and daughter were already passed out in the corner.

Charlie sat down, and Liz joined him by the door.

“Mel tried to stop them,” Liz said, keeping her voice low and staring at a patch of concrete. “I didn’t think anything of it at first, just some boys talking tough. And then one of them pulled a gun. I don’t know why, but Mel just wouldn’t stop shouting at them. It was like he snapped.” Her lips quivered. “They forced him on his knees.” A tear fell, but she didn’t wipe it away. It hung from her jawline for a few seconds then crashed to the ground. “When they went for Sarah and Adelyn, Arlene was the first to try to stop them, but they were too big. Too strong.”

Charlie wished that she would stop. He didn’t need to hear how they had died. It was hard enough finding them the way he had on the side of the road. “Liz, you don’t—”

“They wanted to leave Adelyn, but I grabbed her,” Liz said. “Sarah wouldn’t stop screaming. She pounded her fists against them as hard as she could, but they just laughed.” She frowned then cleared the phlegm growing thick in her throat.

She scrunched up her face again as if she were going to cry but then reached for Charlie’s hand and squeezed tight.

Charlie stared into the frightened and wide eyes looking up at him, and he reciprocated the touch. She was warm, and the heat transferred across his chest to the opposite arm.

“I shouldn’t have let you guys leave,” Charlie said.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Liz said.

“It was.”

Liz moved closer to Charlie and held his face. “No. It wasn’t.”

But the reassurances didn’t erase what he’d done or what he’d failed to do.

“Hey,” Liz said, but Charlie refused to look at her and forced her to pull his face toward her. “We chose to leave you. Got it? And despite all of that, despite all of the weight we put on you to get us out of trouble, you still came back to look for us even when we didn’t want you to. I can count the number of men in this city that would have done the same thing on one hand.” She held up her palm, all five digits lengthened and spread wide. She had beautiful hands.

“I don’t know if the blood will wash off,” Charlie said.

Liz nodded. “I was working my residency down in San Diego the first time I saw someone die on the table.” She leaned her head back against the wall, the supple flesh of her throat moving with every word. “Car wreck. Hit and run. He was a homeless guy. Couldn’t tell his age other than he was old. Had a beard down to his chest, all matted with blood. He was in bad shape before the car even hit him, and his abdomen had swelled from the internal bleeding.” She lifted her hands as if she were holding a pretend needle. “When the doctor instructed me to relieve the pressure, I couldn’t keep my hand still. He yanked the needle out of my hand and shoved me aside, and I just stood there. The other nurses seemed fine, unfazed by the fact that this guy was quickly dying on the table.” She frowned. “He was all skin and bones too. Gaunt and hollowed cheeks. Probably hadn’t eaten in days. But just before the doctor was getting the paddles ready to bring him back, he woke up, gasping and choking for breath. Every cough sprayed blood over him and anyone that was close, including me.” She touched her chest as if she could still feel the splatter. “But he turned his head as he struggled for air, and he looked at me. I’m not sure how long we locked eyes, but it felt like an eternity. And while the rest of his body had wasted away either by drugs or alcohol or time, his eyes were still bright and fresh, like he was seeing for the first time.” She paused, reflecting on the moment, then shook her head quickly. “He didn’t make it through surgery. Shattered spleen and ruptured kidneys, and at least six vertebras were snapped in his lower back. Even if he survived, he would have been confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”

“Do you ever get used to it?” Charlie asked.

“I did,” Liz answered. “I never thought I would, and I swore to myself that I wouldn’t go numb like all the older nurses and doctors, but it happened.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s the only way for our minds to cope after trauma.”

“I couldn’t do what you do, Liz.” Charlie shook his head. “Not in a million years.”

Liz smiled, mild sadness in her eyes. “Yeah, you could.”

But Charlie only shook his head. “I’m not the person you think I am. I just try to do the right thing.”

“You’re exactly what I think you are.”

Silence shrouded over them again. The pair remained close, the heat in their bodies rising, each a breath away from giving in, then Sarah stirred in the corner, pulling them out of the moment.

“You should get some rest,” Charlie said.

Liz nodded and lay down.

10

It didn’t take long for Liz to pass out, and Charlie’s gaze switched between her and the view of the road. He brushed the bangs off her forehead but then quickly withdrew his hand.

Watching Liz sleep only made the longing for Charlie to catch his own shut-eye worse. But a sense of duty flooded through him, and he felt the need to protect her. After all, it was what he’d been doing since they left the hospital. And if he was being honest with himself, that was the way he liked it.

It was a refreshing change of pace from some of the women he’d dated back in college. He understood the need for independence, but after a lifetime of watching his parents interact with one another, he also understood that having a partner meant being able to pass the baton.

If you were tired, they stayed up. If they got sick, then you brought them soup. And when a patch of cows wandered from the neighbor’s pasture at two o’clock in the morning—which, even for a farmer, was early—through the fence that you had begged them to fix for the past eight months and woke up your pregnant wife, who could barely sleep anyway, you got your ass out of bed and got those cows away from your house.

Charlie smiled, remembering that last story was one of his dad’s favorites. He recited it any chance there was an opportunity, because that night, Jon Berkin—the neighbor who owned the cows—landed face-first in a pile of cow shit. His father said that karma did exist and it was a cruel son of a bitch.

The point was that you couldn’t be strong all of the time, and that was okay. People were fallible, and they were going to screw up eventually. Charlie had done it enough to know the truth in that statement.

The longer Charlie sat by the door, the more he started to doze off. Twice, he caught himself snapping back awake, and he had to fight the impulse to wake Liz up to have her be on watch. He just needed something to keep his mind busy.

He opened the revolver’s chamber and counted the bullets. Two.

He plucked them out of the chamber and rolled them around in his hand, repeating the process of unloading and reloading until that became like counting sheep and only worsened his desire for sleep.

Unsure of the time, Charlie finally rested his head against the wall near the door, at least keeping his body in front of the only entrance, and finally dozed off.

While he was sure he went to sleep instantly, Charlie had no idea how long he was out before he was woken by a mechanical rumble.

He reached for the gun, his heart rate spiked, and his vision still blurred with sleep. Once he realized there was no one there, he looked at Liz, who was still asleep nearby, and Sarah and Adelyn in the corner.

The rumbling outside grew louder, and Charlie frowned when he saw the pair of headlights coming down the road. It was a car.

Charlie stood, hand still on the grip of the revolver, and peered through the clouded glass.

The headlights grew larger, and the tension in his body tightened the closer they moved, and just when it grew so tight that he couldn’t stop shaking, one of the headlights from the vehicle highlighted a man walking nearby, wearing camouflage.

Charlie squinted, double-checking to ensure that he hadn’t imagined it. Then he saw the other men marching along the road. They were all dressed in camouflage, all of them wielding rifles.

Soldiers. American soldiers.

Laughter escaped Charlie’s lips, and he opened the door and rushed out to the convoy, that fear and tension immediately transforming into joy and excitement. “Hey!” Charlie shouted, waving his hands and turning the convoy’s attention toward him, along with their guns.

“Don’t move!”

“Get down!”

“Drop the weapon!”

The orders were barked with a violence that forced Charlie to freeze. He held up his hands, and the vehicle’s lights pivoted in his direction to blind him.

The soldiers repeated their orders, and Charlie placed the revolver on the ground then lay down on the pavement just as he was instructed to do, putting his hands behind his head.

“I’m not one of the bad guys,” Charlie said when he felt hands pat down his back and legs.

“All clear, Lieutenant.”

The concrete was rough against Charlie’s cheek and still hot from baking in the sun all day. When he lifted his face off the ground, he caught an eyeful of the AR-15 barrel aimed at his head. “I just wanted to ask for some help.”

“Help?” The voice preceded the thump of boots, then a man crouched down to Charlie’s level. “Son, you need a lot more than that.” He laughed and shook his head. “If this boy is part of the terrorist group, then I’m Paul McCartney. Get ’im up.”

The orders were swiftly followed, and Charlie was peeled off of the concrete and lifted upright. He blinked and found the man who’d spoken to him, the one the soldiers had addressed as Lieutenant.

“You out here by yourself?” the lieutenant asked.

“No, sir.”

“And where is the rest of your party, and how many are there?”

“Three. One of them is a little girl. They’re asleep in the station.” Charlie gestured back to the run-down building where they’d sought shelter.

“Sully, go check it out.” The lieutenant stepped closer as Sully jogged over to the building, then examined the revolver that his soldier had confiscated. “This your weapon?”

“No,” Charlie answered.

“You find some trouble on the road?”

“Yes, sir,” Charlie said. “Lost a couple people along the way.”

The lieutenant nodded. “A lot of that going on.” He looked past Charlie’s left and saw Sully bringing Liz, Sarah, and Adelyn out of the building.

“Three, just like he said, Lieutenant,” Sully said.

“Everyone all right?” the lieutenant asked.

“I’m fine,” Liz said, her voice cracking as she was brought over to the rest of the circle, then looked at Charlie. “You?”

Charlie nodded.

“You can let him go, boys,” the lieutenant said.

The two pairs of hands restraining Charlie relinquished their hold, and he rotated his shoulders, glad to have his mobility back. He rubbed his wrists as Liz inched closer to his side, and the soldiers returned to their ranks, leaving only him, Liz, Sarah and Adelyn, and the lieutenant.

“What’s going on?” Charlie asked.

“We were attacked,” the lieutenant answered.

“By who?” Liz asked.

“The last intel we received before our communications went down was activity off of the Korean peninsula. The Chinese had maneuvered a considerable amount of their forces toward the North Korean border. We think that it might have something to do with that, but we’re not sure.”

“Mommy, I’m still tired,” Adelyn said, rubbing her eyes.

“I know, baby,” Sarah replied.

“Why is the power out?” Charlie asked. “No cars, no phones—how could they have done that?”

“We think we suffered an EMP strike,” the lieutenant answered then explained when he saw the confusion on their faces. “Electromagnetic pulse. It’s a device that fries any electrical circuits within the radius of its blast.”

“But there was no explosion,” Charlie replied.

“It’s a pulse sent through the air. It’s soundless and not dangerous to humans,” the lieutenant said but then turned around toward the city. “Until the aftermath, that is.”

“So nothing works?” Liz asked.

“Anything with a computer chip is down for the count. And considering that pretty much everything we rely on has one built inside, you can see why there was so much destruction.”

“Oh my god.” Charlie stepped back and turned away from the lieutenant. He looked back at the decrepit and broken-down gas station, and it was as if he were looking into the future now instead of the past. “How big?” He turned back around to face the lieutenant. “How far widespread was the blast?”

The lieutenant hesitated, and it was the only preparation that Charlie had for what came out of the lieutenant’s mouth next. “It’s the whole country.”

“Jesus,” Liz said, the word escaping in a breathless whisper.

“We managed to find some old Humvees at the base that still worked, and our CO told us to head into Seattle and secure the city. He figured that’s where most of the damage would be done.”

“We barely made it out of there alive,” Liz said.

Adelyn grew fussy, and Sarah struggled to calm her down.

“Ma’am, you can have her lie down in the Humvee if you want,” the lieutenant said.

“Thank you.” Sarah smiled then walked over, escorted by one of the soldiers.

“Well, we’d offer you a ride, but I don’t think you’d enjoy the destination. But—” He spun around and grabbed a bottle of water out of one of his men’s packs. “We’ll get you loaded up with some rations.”

Charlie was just about to protest and tell the lieutenant that he was already close to home when the first gunshot erupted in the night.

“Get down!” The lieutenant immediately shoved both Charlie and Liz toward the protection of the Humvee. And while he screamed a few other orders at them, Charlie couldn’t hear it over the roar of the gunfire.

He and Liz ducked low next to the aged armored vehicle, both of them covering their heads with their hands. With his back against the door, Charlie felt the vibrations from bullets, and when he looked toward the front of the vehicle, he found the headlights highlighting two soldiers that had already fallen in the firefight. And Sarah.

It took a moment for Charlie to realize that Adelyn was still on the ground, next to her mother, screaming her head off, but he scrambled to the front and yanked the little girl out of harm’s way.

Liz grabbed hold of Charlie’s shoulder, turned him around, and screamed in his face, though he could barely hear her. “We need to go!”

Charlie nodded in response, keeping Adelyn close to his chest while the little girl screamed for her mother.

He poked his head over the doors and peered through the windows on their retreat, and he saw the flashes of the gun muzzles in the fight. “There’s too many.” Charlie pulled Liz back from the rear of the Humvee, shaking his head. “We won’t make it!”

“Well, we can’t just sit here!” she said, ducking from a bullet ricochet off the Humvee’s roof.

“We don’t have a choice!” he said, screaming. “There’s too much random fire!”

A few more minutes into the firefight, the lieutenant returned behind the cover of the Humvee, breathless and reloading his rifle, accompanied by only three of his men.

“I’m out, Lieutenant!”

The lieutenant tossed a magazine past Liz and Charlie’s faces, and the solider quickly reloaded.

“You guys need to make a run for it,” the lieutenant said. “I don’t know how many are out there, but we won’t be able to hold them off for much longer.”

Charlie and Liz hesitated, and more bullets thudded against the Humvee. Liz grabbed hold of Charlie’s hand, and he reached for the revolver in his belt.

“We’ll give you some cover fire,” the lieutenant said, positioning himself at the back of the Humvee. “On three!”

Adelyn screamed, and Liz’s grip on Charlie’s hand tightened.

“One!”

Charlie tensed.

“Two!”

More gunfire made Charlie shudder, and he twitched forward in a false start.

“Three!”

With one hand holding Adelyn and the other holding Liz’s, he didn’t let go of either as they sprinted toward the forest.

“This way!” Charlie steered them to the left of the old gas station, the cacophony of gunfire still tearing apart the night air, and when they veered in that direction, Charlie felt Liz stumble, yanking his arm back.

She didn’t yelp or scream, and Charlie simply tugged at her arm, pulling her forward.

“C’mon! Don’t stop!” He knew that they were both tired, but they needed to keep going. They needed to escape.

Pavement gave way to grass and rocks, and Charlie led them into the woods and to the safety of the thick cover of trees, which also slowed their pace.

“Charlie,” Liz said, her voice faint.

“C’mon. We need to keep going.” He felt her hand go limp in his, but he clamped down harder. “Just keep moving!” But he only made it a few more steps before Liz finally collapsed, dragging Charlie and Adelyn down with him.

On the ground, Adelyn squirmed out of Charlie’s reach, and he spun around and found Liz on her side. He slid down the rocky terrain and dropped by her side.

“What’s wrong?” But then his eyes traveled down to her hand, which was clamped down over the right side of her abdomen.

“Just go,” Liz said, and she started to cry.

Charlie reached for Liz’s hand and slowly peeled it off to reveal the blood blotching her shirt.

11

The scent of blood was thick in the air. Every breath that Charlie inhaled was heavy with the metallic heat that had splashed over Liz’s stomach and onto his hands, which he studied with horrific fascination. Even with the glow of the moonlight and stars overhead, it was hard to see the blood in the dark. But he could feel it, and he could smell it, and when he rolled his fingertips together—

Gunfire pivoted Charlie’s attention to the south. The flesh around his eyes twitched, and it wasn’t until the second round of rapid gunshots that he ended his paralysis. He turned back to Liz, who wouldn’t stop shaking and gasping for breath. He grabbed hold of her hand, the blood slick and warm against both of their palms.

Charlie quickly pressed her hand back over the wound, keeping his own hand over hers, and applied pressure. “You’re going to be okay.”

Liz winced, and her body started to go into shock. “I don’t… think…”

“Tell me what I need to do.” Charlie’s voice danced between excited and nervous. She was a nurse. She could just give him instructions. “Tell me how I can help you.”

Liz shut her eyes, and even under the moonlight, she looked extremely pale. “Keep pressure.” She opened her eyes and stared at Charlie, and he saw blood forming at the corner of her mouth. “I won’t make it without a doctor.”

“There’s a doctor near the orchard. He’s a vet, but he’ll be able to help.”

“I can’t walk that far.”

“We’re not going to walk.” Charlie reached for her other hand and placed it firmly over hers.

He rushed over and found Adelyn still crying in the woods. He picked her up, trying to soothe her but failing, then placed her next to Liz. “I’ll be back.”

“Hur-ry…” Liz choked out the word.

He squeezed one final time then released her hand and turned quickly in the dirt and leaves of the forest. Every gunshot that thundered on the road below pounded through his chest. The heavy drum of war hastened his pace, and he weaved through the trees, careful of the steep decline of the hillside.

Soil and loose rocks gave way, and Charlie slid a few feet before catching himself on a nearby tree trunk. He straightened, checked his footing, then returned to his descent, leaving behind his bloody handprint in the darkness.

Through the dense brush and trees, Charlie saw the back of the abandoned gas station where the soldiers had found them. Closer to the fighting, Charlie heard shouts echoing during the lulls in gunfire, coming from both sides, though he couldn’t understand any of them.

He left a trail of blood as he gently ran his hand over the rear wall of the gas station on his path toward the road. He slowed as he neared the corner, carefully craning his head around to get a better look.

The Humvee was positioned at the intersection of perpendicular roads that traveled in front of the gas station. He turned back toward the woods where he’d left Liz and Adelyn. He didn’t have time to waste.

Charlie scanned the area one last time, still unable to see the enemy firing from cover, and sprinted for the Humvee.

He was only aware of his steps, his breaths, and the gunfire on his sprint. Bullets zipped past and collided with the rusted pumps and metal garage doors of the station. On the run, Charlie forgot to grab the weapons from the soldiers and focused only on the man leaned up against the Humvee, reloading a magazine into his rifle.

Charlie slammed against the Humvee doors, the pain numbed by the adrenaline caused by the bullets vibrating against the other side of the armored military vehicle.

Beads of sweat covered the last soldier’s face, and Charlie gawked at him, the rush of battle and the fear of death so intense that he had forgotten why he’d come here in the first place.

It wasn’t until the soldier grabbed Charlie by the collar, pulled him close enough to smell the stink of his breath, and screamed, that he realized it was the lieutenant.

“Grab one of the guns!” The lieutenant shoved Charlie off him then positioned himself near the Humvee’s tailgate, having to move aside another of his fallen comrades to be in a position where he could return fire.

Charlie watched the lieutenant’s body vibrate from the recoil of the rifle then spun around to where the second pair of soldiers lay in the road. His side scraped against the rough metal doors, and he half crouched, half crawled toward the Humvee’s front bumper.

At least three feet of open space lay between Charlie and the rifle lying across the dead soldier’s chest. The lieutenant was the only man left.

Charlie shut his eyes, and the tension in his muscles grew painful as he hesitated before his attempt at the final push. Finally, he lunged, scrambling for the rifle in a mad dash.

The three feet of open road between the rifle and the Humvee exposed him to the enemy, and bullets puffed up bits of asphalt in Charlie’s peripheral.

He fumbled his fingers around the rifle’s stock and gave it a hard yank as he quickly retreated back toward the safety of the Humvee. But just when Charlie stepped behind the Humvee’s engine, a harsh tug yanked him back into the kill zone.

At first, Charlie thought the soldier had woken, but the soldier was still dead, and Charlie saw that the rifle’s shoulder strap had caught on the corpse’s arm.

The soldier’s face was turned away, but Charlie caught the stench of death and blood, which covered the dead man’s arms and legs and torso as he hastily removed the snag with one final yank.

More gunfire and bullets shredded the soldier’s leg, and Charlie ducked back down and checked the weapon. It took him a moment to find the chamber, but he opened it, cleared the jam, then shut it. He squeezed the weapon tight, as if his strength could crush the steel and carbon in his hands.

“We need to leave!” the lieutenant shouted from the Humvee’s tailgate. “We’re overrun!”

“The woman I was with! She’s been shot! We need a ride east to my farm!”

The soldier squat-walked over the dead and joined Charlie near the front. “Nearest working medical facility is back at the base.” He reached for the chests of his fallen comrades and yanked the dog tags from their necks then reached over Charlie and snagged another then shoved them into his pocket.

“She won’t make it that far,” Charlie said. “My neighbor is a vet, retired, but he’d be able to help.” More gunfire, and Charlie ducked.

“Where is she?”

He gestured toward the woods behind the old gas station.

The soldier nodded. “All right. Go grab her.” He reached around to his pack and removed a red stick with a clear plastic cap on the end. “Just pop this when you’re ready for pickup.” He pointed to the left side of the gas station. “Extraction point is there. Got it?”

Charlie gripped the flare in one hand and nodded.

Then the gunfire ended, and a foreign voice emerged from the dark forest on either side of the road.

The soldier smacked Charlie’s shoulder. “Go!”

Charlie sprinted toward the gas station, sliding his arm through the rifle strap, and kept low, attempting to dodge the bullets. He didn’t look back on his run, and he made sure to keep the gas station between himself and the gunfire.

On hands and knees, he climbed his way back up the mountainside. The night made it difficult to see, and a moment of panic gripped him when he couldn’t find them again, but luckily, Adelyn was still crying.

Charlie followed the child’s voice then dropped to his knees at Liz’s side. Adelyn quickly crawled into Charlie’s lap, burying her face into his chest. “It’s all right, sweetheart.” He gave Liz a gentle shake. Her eyes were shut. “Liz, are you still with me? Liz?”

She opened her eyelids only a sliver. “Is Adelyn—”

“She’s fine,” Charlie said then placed his hand over Liz’s wound. “I just need you to hang strong for a few more minutes. All right?”

He knew that he’d have to carry both of them, and he was lucky Liz was small. He positioned Adelyn in one arm then heaved Liz over his shoulder, her arms and head lolling lazily and without control. “Just hang on.”

Charlie moved as quickly down the mountain as he could but chose his footing carefully because he knew a tumble down the mountainside this time could be deadly for all of them.

Gunfire then a heavy percussive blast stole Charlie’s attention from his path down the side of the mountain, and he saw a plume of smoke rise off somewhere in the trees.

With his arms burning, and struggling to balance Liz and Adelyn, Charlie veered toward the extraction point.

He waited until he reached the bottom of the hillside before he set Liz and Adelyn down then popped the flare.

Red smoke plumed into the air, then the gunfire was silenced by the roar of the Humvee’s engine.

Charlie craned his head around the corner and saw the Humvee reverse. He scooped Adelyn back up in his arms again and waited until the back of the Humvee was past the back of the building.

He opened the back door and set Adelyn inside first as gunfire peppered the Humvee’s front.

“C’mon, man. Hurry it up!” The lieutenant was frantic behind the wheel, keeping low behind the dash. The windshield was nearly shattered, making it almost impossible to see anything out of it.

Charlie scooped Liz off the ground and laid her down in the back and jumped in. “Go!” He slammed the back door shut as they sped forward and kept both himself and Adelyn ducked low, keeping one hand on Liz to keep her stable.

“Just keep your head down!” the lieutenant screamed up front.

The gunfire eventually faded, and Charlie poked his head up to check the view from the back window. A pair of men emerged from the thick haze of smoke, firing as they grew smaller in the distance until they vanished.

“How’s she doing?” the lieutenant called from up front.

“She’s lost a lot of blood.” Charlie checked her pulse and found a faint beat. “She’s unconscious.” He lowered his ear to her nose, where he felt puffs of air from her nostrils. “But she’s breathing.”

“Just make sure she stays that way,” the soldier shouted. “You know CPR?”

“Yeah.” Charlie turned around so he could face the soldier.

“There’s a first aid kit tucked back there somewhere,” the soldier said. “Has some gauze and clotting powder.”

Adelyn screamed while Charlie searched the back of the Humvee and found the red first aid box underneath a spare flak jacket. He flipped the top and ripped the bag of the clot powder open. “I just pour this stuff over the wound?”

“That’s the idea,” the lieutenant answered.

Charlie ripped open Sarah’s shirt and wiped away some of the blood. He dumped the powder in, and Liz groaned, her stomach contracting as if it stung.

“How long do I keep on this road?” the lieutenant asked.

“Until the next intersection,” Charlie answered, setting aside the bag of powder, then picked up a red-faced Adelyn and gently patted her back. The child was so overwhelmed that she didn’t even know why she was crying anymore. “Then you’ll take a right. After that, you’ll want to stop at the second house on the left.”

“Copy!”

Charlie slowly rocked Adelyn back and forth. “It’s all right, sweetheart.”

“Mommy!” Adelyn cried. “I want Mommy!”

The words cut through Charlie’s heart as he remembered Sarah’s body lying on the asphalt behind them.

“Shh. It’s okay,” Charlie said then looked at Liz. “We’re okay.”

The lieutenant kept his foot on the gas, and with no traffic on the roads and not many roadblocks, they made good time.

The Humvee chewed up the miles quickly, and it wasn’t long before they turned down Dr. Wilburn’s drive.

The lieutenant was out his door first and hurried around back to help Charlie.

“Take the kid,” Charlie said, passing Adelyn over to the soldier.

With his hands finally free, Charlie scooped Liz from the Humvee then rushed toward the front door. “Doc!”

The adrenaline that Charlie had used to push himself this far started to wane, and his grip on Liz slipped.

The door opened, and Dr. Wilburn tied closed his robe, fatigue and confusion spread over his face upon seeing the motley crew on his doorstep. “Charlie? Oh my god. What happened?” He stepped aside without protest as Charlie and the lieutenant entered.

“She was shot,” Charlie answered. “The bullet is still inside.”

“Let’s get her out to the table,” Doc said, hurrying toward the back of the house, then he led them outside to the small barn that acted as his operating table for the animals.

Doc quickly laid a blanket down over the steel top and gestured for Charlie to put her down. He checked her pulse then examined the wound. “Clotting powder?”

“Yeah,” Charlie answered, breathless.

“Okay.” Doc stepped away. “Keep an eye on her while I get my tools. Either of you have any medical experience?”

“No,” Charlie answered.

“Limited,” the lieutenant replied.

“Sterilize your arms,” Doc said. “Hot water and soap.”

Doc stepped out, and the lieutenant set a still-crying Adelyn down then washed up in the sink.

Charlie approached the table and reached for Liz’s hand. The past twelve hours replayed in his mind like a broken record. He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Liz.” He lingered by her side until Doc returned with his tools and his wife, Ellen.

“All right. We’ll need to move quickly.” Dr. Wilburn set down the tools. “Ellen, can you take the little one for us?”

His wife was a short woman. Her hair was done up in a perm, dyed brown, though there were streaks of white starting to show at the roots. “Of course.” She scooped the girl up off the floor with practiced ease and went out of the room.

“Charlie, what’s your blood type?” Doc asked, unraveling his tools.

“Um, O-negative,” he answered.

Doc gestured to the lieutenant, who was drying his hands. “Can you draw blood?”

“Yeah.”

“Needle and bags are in that drawer,” Doc said. “Make sure you grab some gloves.”

Charlie sat down and let the lieutenant work, but his eyes were focused on the limited view he had of Liz. And as the needle pressed into his vein, Doc made his first incision to retrieve the bullet from Liz’s gut.

12

Dawn broke on the horizon, and the early-morning sunlight pierced through Doc’s front living room window. Charlie had fallen asleep while sitting on the couch, the sunlight from the window behind him silhouetting his features. He twitched in his sleep, his dreams reliving the previous day in Seattle.

He saw Mel and Arlene in the ditch, the pair tossed aside like garbage. He saw the men he killed in the house when he rescued Liz, Sarah, and Adelyn, but in his nightmare, the body count was much higher. And finally, he saw Sarah covered in blood, illuminated by the bright headlights of the Humvee. She looked at him, crying.

“Take care of her,” Sarah said. “Don’t let her die.”

And suddenly, Adelyn was in Charlie’s arms, and they were both covered in her mother’s blood—

“Charlie?”

He jerked awake, his breathing accelerated and sweat beading on his forehead. He blinked and straightened up on the couch, wiping the sleep from his eyes until Dr. Wilburn’s figure materialized in front of him. “Doc.” He cleared his throat. “How is she?” Then panic struck Charlie, and he stood, his legs wobbling, as he frowned. “Is Liz all right?”

Doc raised his hands. “I just checked on her, and her vitals are fine.” Dark circles were under his eyes. He sighed. “It will take some time before she’s fully recovered, but everything looks good so far. But.” He held up a finger. “We’re in uncharted territory here. I don’t have the proper tools to check for other signs of internal damage she may have sustained from the injury. I may have missed something.”

“Right,” Charlie said, nodding. He took a breath then looked around the living room. It was warm. “What about Adelyn?”

“She’s asleep with Ellen,” Doc answered, smiling.

“Where’s Liz?”

Doc stepped aside. “Bedroom. Down the hall on the left.”

“Thanks.” Charlie stepped past him.

“And Charlie.”

Charlie turned.

“I need to know what’s happening out there.” Doc gestured out the window, but Charlie knew he wasn’t referencing his front yard. “We haven’t had power since yesterday at lunch. Car won’t work, my phone—”

“I know,” Charlie said. “It’s like that everywhere.”

Doc took a breath. “Right. Just find me after.”

Charlie nodded and walked down the hall toward Liz’s room. He passed another room with an open door and found the soldier sprawled out on top of the sheets, still dressed in his bloodied uniform, passed out on the bed.

He had questions, but he didn’t even know where to start. He left the lieutenant to his rest and carefully opened the last door on the left, the hinges groaning from his intrusion.

Liz was on her back beneath the covers. The doc had set up an IV on the far side of the bed, feeding the liquid through a tube and needle that funneled into her arm. She was asleep, the only sign of life the subtle rise and fall of her chest with each breath.

Charlie approached her bedside like a gentle breeze on a spring afternoon. As he towered over the bed, she looked small and fragile from his point of view. And while he wanted to be optimistic about her recovery and the fact that she had survived the surgery, he understood the reality that Doc was trying to convey.

All their modern conveniences were gone. No hospitals, no surgeons, no power, no help. Not wanting to disturb her anymore, Charlie turned to leave but paused one last time at the door, looking at the girl in the bed, then gently closed the door.

When Charlie returned to the living room, the lieutenant had woken and was talking to Doc and Ellen, the three huddled in confidence.

“Charlie,” Ellen said, smiling. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, Mrs. Wilburn.” Charlie joined the huddle, wedging himself between Ellen and the lieutenant. “I’m sorry for waking you up last night.”

Ellen dismissed the apology and gently patted Charlie’s cheek. “I’m just glad you made it out of the city.” She gestured to the soldier. “Dixon was just telling us about what happened.”

The lieutenant was wide-eyed despite just waking up, though Charlie figured the man was used to waking up quickly in the military. And he suddenly realized that this was the first time he’d learned the man’s name and shook Dixon’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Dixon.”

“Likewise, Charlie,” Dixon replied, but there was no smile on his face, and when both men retracted their hands, they each looked at the dried blood on them. Dixon broke away first. “There were a few more units coming from my base just north of here. I was going to take the Humvee up there and inform my CO what we ran into.”

“All of this because of some electronic blast?” Ellen asked.

“Yes, ma’am. The only intelligence we’ve received is that there were insurgents penetrating the city and that there may be additional sleeper cells activated around the country.” Dixon crossed his arms. “My mission was to secure the eastern region of Seattle and establish an FOB.”

“FOB?” Charlie asked.

“Forward operating base,” Dixon answered. “It would be a rallying point from where we could take the rest of the city.”

“My word.” Ellen placed her hand on her chest and looked at her husband. “Ronald, there could be a lot of people that need help out there.”

“Does your base have doctors?” Doc asked.

“We have a few, but I’m not going to turn down extra help,” Dixon answered.

Doc turned to his wife. “It might be good for us to go. The base is probably the safest place we could be right now.”

“And what about the girl?” Ellen asked.

“I’ve done all I can for her. Aside from changing the bandages and giving her pills, there is nothing else for me to do.” Doc turned to Charlie. “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” Charlie nodded in compliance and briefly considered tagging along, though he knew his parents wouldn’t agree. “Think you can watch Liz and the girl for a bit? I wanted to head over to the house. My folks are probably worried.”

“Of course, dear,” Ellen said.

“How long will you be?” Dixon asked.

“No longer than an hour,” Charlie answered.

Dixon grimaced but nodded. “All right, but don’t dawdle. The sooner I can report back to my division about what I saw, the sooner we can retaliate.”

Charlie headed for the door but stopped to turn around again. “And thank you again, Doc, Mrs. Wilburn.”

Once outside, Charlie cut across the lawn, his pace quick as he headed out onto the empty and worn road. The closer Charlie moved toward home, the faster he walked, and terrible questions sped through his mind.

What if those terrorists had made it to the orchard? What if his parents had been hurt? It wasn’t as if they could drive anywhere or call anyone. His father didn’t like to admit it, but he was getting older, unable to move around the way he used to. And any injury sustained now could become life-threatening.

The worry grew, and Charlie broke into a sprint. His lungs and muscles burned, a brief surge of adrenaline providing the needed boost for the rest of the journey home. The orchard fields appeared on his left, the early-morning light highlighting the rows of green that stretched up the hills on the horizon and toward the sunrise.

Just the sight of the trees made him feel better, and his body lightened. A few seconds later, he saw the barn then the house.

Charlie turned up the gravel drive and saw his dad’s truck parked in the grass near the porch, exactly where it had been when Charlie left the day before. He leapt up the steps and shouldered open the front door.

“Mom? Dad?” Charlie yelled for them through gasping breaths. He was lightheaded from the run and the abrupt stop.

“Charlie?” It was his mother’s voice, coming from the back.

“Mom!” Charlie cut through the kitchen and stepped out the screen door and found his mother eating breakfast outside. “Thank god.” He swooped down from the steps and engulfed his mother in a hug.

“Charlie, my god, what happened to you?” His mother pulled back to get a better look at her son. She grabbed his hand and stared at the dried blood. “Are you all right?” His mother patted his chest, checking for wounds that didn’t exist.

“I’m fine, Mom. Are you all right?” Charlie asked, snatching her hands and keeping them steady in his. “Where’s Dad?”

“We’re fine, but your father and I worried when you didn’t come home last night.” She freed her left hand from Charlie’s hold and gently touched a bloodstain on his chest. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes,” Charlie asked. “Where’s Dad?”

His mother spun around and gestured toward the barn. “I don’t know. He’s fiddling with something. He didn’t even come to bed last night. He wouldn’t say it, but he was worried too. We lost power, and so did the Bigelows down the street.” She bit her lower lip and frowned. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

Charlie exhaled relief and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. Really.” He finally addressed the blood that covered his hands and clothes. “It’s not mine. A nurse was shot. She’s down at Dr. Wilburn’s house.”

“Shot?” His mother tilted her head to the side, repeating the word as if she didn’t recognize it.

“Charlie!” Harold Decker waddled out of the barn, his sleeves rolled up, still dressed in the same overalls and shirt that he wore yesterday, and broke out into a meandered jog.

“Dad.” Charlie met him more than halfway, and the father and son embraced, Charlie burying his face into his father’s shoulder.

Harold leaned back, grasped Charlie’s face with both hands, and took a good look at his son. “Your mother was worried sick.” He kept his eyes on the blood.

“It’s okay, Dad. The blood’s not mine.” Charlie removed his father’s hands, and his mother walked over to join them. “Listen, something happened in the city.”

“I’ll say,” Harold exclaimed. “Everything in the house went dead. Even that cell phone you gave me.”

“The land line wasn’t working either,” his mother added.

“Cars, power, everything is down. Seattle is at a standstill right now, and the people responsible are just… shooting anything that they come across.”

“Oh my god.” Mary clasped both hands over her mouth then looked at Harold. “I told you I heard shooting last night.”

“Is that what happened?” Harold touched the blood on his son’s chest, his expression shifting between grief and rage.

“Dad, I told you, I’m fine.” Charlie looked past his father and toward the barn from where he’d emerged. “What were you doing in there?”

“C’mon. I’ll show you.”

The barn was two stories, with the second floor running around the perimeter of the barn, keeping the middle open. It was mostly for storage. His dad had built it for his mother, who had seen one just like it in some farming magazine. And that was just how their relationship worked. Mom would say something, then Dad would do something about it. They’d been married for thirty-eight years.

Harold motioned them over to his workbench, where tools and an old radio sat open and exposed. “I managed to get it working early this morning. Wanted to know what in the hell was going on out there, but the only thing I can get is some emergency broadcast signal playing on loop. That and static.”

Charlie reached for the dusty and aged radio. The back cover was torn off, exposing the tubes inside. It was old technology, which matched what Lieutenant Dixon had explained to him about the EMP. He looked at the back of the barn and a faded blue tarp. “If this works, then maybe—”

The radio ended the monotonous emergency broadcast and blared a high-pitched din followed by a stern voice. “And now, a message from the President of the United States of America.”

“My fellow Americans. I’m speaking to you from a secure facility where my administration is hard at work to solve our broadening crisis. If you’re hearing me, please pass this message along to anyone else that you can, because as you know, all modern communication devices have been rendered useless. Currently, the entire United States power grid is down. Emergency systems have been disrupted, along with basic utility services such as water and sewage.”

Charlie couldn’t look away from the speaker and the radio, and the chatter between his parents was washed out by his thoughts.

“Over the past twenty-four hours, I have been in contact with my generals, Cabinet, intelligence advisors, as well as several experts in the civilian fields, and I can tell you with confidence that we know and understand what happened. Our country was attacked using an electromagnetic pulse, most commonly referred to as an EMP. It has rendered any device that uses a CPU to function completely useless. And while this has affected every person across our great nation, I am here to tell you that we do have a solution, and it will be unfolded to the general public within the coming weeks. Until then, I ask that you remain calm, help one another, and above all, remain the hearty, law-abiding citizens that you are. Thank you. And God bless the United States of America.”

The high-pitched whine returned, then a rush of static, and finally, the repeated loop of the emergency broadcast system came back online.

Charlie kept staring at the radio after the broadcast was over, wrapping his mind around what the president had just said. “In the coming weeks?” He frowned. “How in the hell are people supposed to last for weeks?”

His dad offered a cynical chuckle. “That’s code for they’re still working on a solution, but they don’t want to say that they don’t have anything. We’re going to be on our own for a while.”

“Well,” his mother said after remaining silent. “I suppose all we can do is just carry on.” She smiled gravely. “No sense in worrying about something that we can’t control.”

“Your mother’s right,” Harold said. “Best thing we can do is keep things going here as best we can. After all…” He started toward the barn’s exit. “People still need to eat, right?” He cracked a grin then clapped his hands together once the way he did whenever he was done with a conversation.

While Charlie admired his parents’ attitude about the situation, they hadn’t seen what he’d seen or experienced what he’d gone through getting out of the city. And if those terrorists decided to make their way farther east, away from the suburbs and into rural country, then they’d only bring death and pain with them.

13

Charlie stepped out of the barn, choosing to take the radio with him in case there were any updates, though his father didn’t expect any further help from the folks over in DC. As he made his way back toward the house, he saw Mario and a few other orchard workers arrive on their bikes out front.

Charlie raised his arm in a friendly wave, and Mario reciprocated. If he hadn’t known Mario for ten years, he would have been surprised that the middle-aged farm hand showed up for work after a day like yesterday. The man was relentless.

“Howdy, Mr. Decker.” Mario smiled widely, his fake Southern twang muddled with his native Mexican accent. He always enjoyed addressing Charlie like that.

“Hey, Mario.” Charlie bear-hugged Mario in lieu of their normal handshake. It was good to see him and the other guys alive. While Mario and the others didn’t live in the city, Charlie had seen enough death to make him fear that it could stretch anywhere. “Everything all right at home?”

Mario nodded. “Family is fine. No power, though. The kids aren’t liking that since they’re staying home from school, but Maria will keep them busy.” He turned to Harold. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“Some kind of terrorist attack,” Harold said then gestured to Charlie. “Started in the city, and I guess it’s working its way east.”

Nervous chatter flitted between the men, their Spanish quick and startled.

Worried, Mario turned to Charlie. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Charlie stepped closer. “I have a soldier down the road at Doc’s house. We were with his unit when we were attacked. I’m going back over there now, but it might be a good idea for you to bring your families here. We have the well working, and provisions.” And deep down, Charlie thought that having some additional numbers on their side wouldn’t hurt.

“You think it’s going to get that bad?” Mario asked.

“It already is.” Charlie began to turn but stopped himself. “If you have rifles or guns, bring them and whatever provisions you have.”

Mario shook his head, and Charlie started his way up the road. All of it was surreal, and it felt as though weeks had passed since he left for Seattle yesterday.

The world had changed in the blink of an eye, and while he didn’t know what to expect next, he understood what would happen if those bastards made their way to the orchard. He felt anger simmering in him, just thinking about it.

Charlie stopped on the road, watching Mario and the other workers return home, and looked up toward the apple groves. The haze of early morning had burned away, and sunlight streamed down over the endless sea of green that rolled over the hills.

The sight brought a smile to his face, and he veered from the asphalt and made his way up toward the hill. As the ground beneath his boots shifted from concrete to grass and dirt, the stress and worry that had plagued him throughout the morning began to fade away.

The leafy branches of the apple trees cooled him from the summer sun, and he shut his eyes as he took a deep breath. Soil, tree, and the sweet scent of fruit grazed his nostrils. It cleansed him of the concrete and smog of the city.

Any place with life was where Charlie wanted to be, and the orchard was always teeming with it. He stretched out his arm and ran his fingertips along the tree bark, the rough texture familiar.

Apples dangled overhead, and Charlie grabbed the closest one. It was firm, the pink lady ripe in his hand. He took a bite, and his mouth exploded with flavor.

The taste awoke hunger, and he realized that he hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday morning. He devoured the apple and plucked another one on his walk through the orchards. A trail of apple cores followed him through the trees, and the walk helped clear his head.

The orchard had always done that for him. The land and the trees were as much a part of him as his beating heart. He’d spent endless summers and seasons running through these trees. He grew them, harvested them, climbed them—his history was written here.

When Charlie reached the edge of the orchard, he looked back at the long rows he’d passed through and smiled. It was good to be home.

He descended the hill and broke into a jog on his way toward Doc’s house. He found Dixon outside, puffing on a cigarette. He still hadn’t changed out of his army fatigues, and the sunlight exposed the blood and dirt on his uniform.

“Everything all right?” Dixon asked, squinting in the sun’s brightness. A shade of black stubble had appeared on his face, and his cheeks and neck were lined with red smears. His comrade’s blood.

“Fine,” Charlie answered. “What’s the next move?”

“Retaliation.” Dixon took a deep drag then exhaled, his body language relaxing as he deflated in the process.

“How far away is your base?” Charlie asked.

“An hour’s drive.” Dixon ground out the cigarette on the porch then flicked the tiny butt down the concrete path that cut through the front yard.

Charlie pointed toward Seattle and the road that they had come from. “The terrorists that gunned down your unit and shot Liz were heading this way. It might be nice to have some military support over here.”

“I don’t know if I can convince my CO to come and protect a bunch of farmers.” Dixon stood, his knees popping in the process. He grimaced as he cradled his lower back and twisted, trying to loosen his muscles. “We deployed most of our ground forces on missions into the city.”

Charlie turned to look back at the Humvee parked in the drive. Like Dan’s fatigues, blood shimmered off the armor in the sunlight, and he got a better look at the bullet holes that dented the sides and transformed the windows into crushed glass, a grave reminder of what was potentially heading their way.

“I want you to take the girls,” Charlie said, looking at Dixon. “Think you can manage that?”

Dixon nodded. “We’ll find room for them at the base.”

“Thank you.”

Charlie headed inside and found Ellen with an awake Adelyn in the kitchen, eating Cheerios, then headed down the hall and back to Liz’s room, where he found Doc checking her pulse.

“You might have some nausea from the medication, but if it gets too intense and you start vomiting, we’ll have to take you off.” Doc delicately returned Liz’s wrist to the bed. “You’re already dehydrated, and this summer heat won’t be doing you any favors. The pain will be a little worse, but it’s better to be safe than sorry at this point.”

“Thank you,” Liz said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Doc leaned close. “You’re a strong young lady.” He turned then smiled when he saw Charlie in the doorway. “Don’t stay too long. She needs her rest.”

Liz smiled when she saw Charlie. Her skin was pale and shiny with sweat. The bangs of her black hair clung to her forehead in stringy lines, and her lips had lost their color. But those green eyes were still as vibrant as they had been back at the hospital.

“Hey,” she said.

“How are you feeling?” Charlie approached with hesitant steps, as though if he pressed down too hard on the floor, it might burst the stitches running down her abdomen.

“Tired.” Liz tried to adjust herself in bed but grimaced and stopped just as quickly as she started.

The pain that flashed across Liz’s face made Charlie close the gap between himself and the bedside. He dropped to a knee and cupped her hand with his. Her skin was cold.

“It hurts to breathe,” Liz said.

“That’s what happens when you get yourself shot.”

Liz formed a thin-lipped smile then gave the lightest squeeze of his hand. “The doc said you got me here just in time.” Her grip tightened. “I guess I owe you again.”

“I’ll put it on your tab.” Charlie smiled but was unable to hold her gaze. It was something about her eyes that twisted him up inside. Staring at them for too long stoked a fire that he wasn’t sure he could control. A part of him was afraid to let it burn, because he knew that once it started, it might not stop.

But there was another part that wanted to know what would happen if he let it burn.

“I talked to the lieutenant.” Charlie lifted his eyes and met hers once more. “You and Adelyn are going with the doc to their military base.”

Liz retracted her hand.

Charlie fumbled his fingers for a moment. “I think it’s for the best.”

Liz nodded. “You’re probably right.”

He lingered for a moment then stood. He walked toward the door then turned back and found Liz already asleep. He watched the slight rise and fall of her chest, and that fire in his stomach grew angry. He was angry with himself for letting her get shot, and he was angry about the masked evil that put the bullet in her stomach in the first place.

Charlie returned to the living room, where Doc and Ellen were sitting on the couch, playing with a still-sleepy Adelyn. “You two going to be able to handle her?”

“I think so,” Ellen answered, bouncing Adelyn on her knee.

“We’re going to pack some things up and leave in the next hour,” Doc said.

Charlie shook Doc’s hand. “Good luck.”

“You too.”

“You and your parents should come, Charlie,” Ellen said. “It’s not safe here.”

While Charlie knew that Ellen had a valid point, he also knew his family. And himself. He’d spent so much effort getting home, he wasn’t about to leave it now.

Hell, he had spent all day yesterday getting turned down by every bank in Seattle at just a shot of trying to turn things around. He’d poured buckets of blood, sweat, and tears into that place, and whatever he’d put in, his father and mother had put in one hundred fold. His soul was in that land.

“I can’t,” Charlie said.

“I told her you wouldn’t go for it.” The doc tickled Adelyn’s stomach, but she only yawned at the motion.

“Take care of yourself, Charlie,” Ellen said.

“I will.”

Charlie walked outside, knowing that if he lingered in that house any longer, he might change his mind about going. Because while he’d only met her yesterday, he’d already grown used to having Liz around.

“I’ll try to bring some help,” Dixon said, dropping the rag he’d used to clean off the Humvee.

“I’d appreciate it,” Charlie said. “Keep them safe.”

“I will.”

Charlie glanced back at the house one last time then headed for the road. But he didn’t even make it past the driveway before he stopped.

The bright sunlight made it hard to see, but the shapes were unmistakable. Masked men armed with rifles emerged from between the trees.

Charlie counted two, four, then ten, then lost count after a dozen. He turned around and found Dixon already by the house’s door, waving for him to follow and trying to remain silent.

But the silence broke with the sound of gunfire.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story!

Writing has always been a passion of mine and it’s incredibly gratifying and rewarding whenever you give me an opportunity to let you escape from your everyday surroundings and entertain the world that is your imagination.

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The Story Continues with Book 1- Click Here

An EMP attack on the country has rendered the nation’s power grid obsolete. Charlie Decker and his family, along with a small band of survivors, must protect themselves from the threats both domestic and abroad. But with the invading forces having them outmanned and outgunned, Charlie must push himself farther than he’s ever gone before.

The Story Continues with Book 1- Click Here

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