Surviving The End (Book 3): New World

by Hamilton, Grace

  Ex-Navy SEAL Wyatt Morris is doing everything he can to hold his family together after the tragic death of his prepper Dad, so when Megan enters their lands, he is mistrustful at first despite feeling drawn to her. He won't turn away an ill child though--no matter how deadly the world has become. But the arrival of another stranger named Kyle soon gives them all a new reason to be suspicious. Wyatt knows he’ll have to forge alliances in order to keep his family safe, but trusting the wrong person could be a deadly mistake.

  When Megan and Wyatt discover her daughter’s illness may be linked to Kyle’s arrival, it sets off a race to discover the truth before it’s too late to save Caitlin—and the rest of the Morris clan. Can they work together for survival . . . and something more?

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  EXCERPT

  CHAPTER ONE

  Wyatt crept into the house with his pistol leading the way. When they returned home, they found the back door had been busted in. His senses went on high alert at the thought of someone inside. He gestured to his brother, Jack, to stay quiet. They were expecting looters at some point. Wyatt had put the boards over the windows, hoping to deter anyone. They had worked too long and too hard to build this place up and make it into the safe retreat his family needed.

  The cabin and all of preps that were concealed in and around it, were a labor of love for him and his father. This was the place they were all going to live out their days when it hit the fan. Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned and now they were forced to improvise.

  Jack grabbed his wife's arm. “Take Ryland and hide,” he whispered into her ear.

  Willow nodded and used her eyes to direct her 12-year-old son to follow her. Jack and Wyatt's mom, Rosie, already knew she was to go with her daughter-in-law and grandson and quietly followed them into the thick trees that surrounded the lodge. Wyatt had created a blind beyond the backyard. This was the designated area for them to hide should intruders show up. The blind created a small space between the rocky hillside and the house. They could stay out of sight while looters did their thing. Wyatt had made it look like the place had already been looted. He had tossed the trash around and littered the area with broken glass to sell the story. Behind the boards, the windows were in tact. He only wanted to appear looted and abandoned. If someone did get in, they wouldn't find anything. Once the would-be bandits realized there was nothing there, they would leave and the family could go back to whatever it was they had been doing.

  Wyatt designated himself as the one to enter the cabin, with his younger brother standing guard outside. The door had something blocking it. Not a problem considering Wyatt had the keys to the front door. It seemed silly to carry around keys nowadays, but it was a habit and a locked door could be enough deterrent to keep looters out. He instructed Chase and Albert to stay at the back while he and Jack went to the front. Using hand gestures, he ordered Jack to go upstairs while he searched below.

  He walked through the house, not making a sound. His Navy Seal training kicked in and he carefully went about clearing each room. When he walked into his own room, he was stunned by what he found. A woman and child were sleeping in his bed. It felt like a scene out of the Goldilocks fairy tale.

  Wyatt took a few seconds to evaluate the situation. The child was clearly not well. Her face was unnaturally pale and the area around her eyes was black. A black-haired woman was curled around the little girl in a protective gesture, even in sleep. He couldn't see much of her features, but he judged her to be in her late 20s or so. He imagined she must be the girl's mother, the resemblance was plain to see.

  He heard footsteps behind him and spun around. Jack was approaching. He wasn't exactly stealth.

  “Shhh,” he said turning to his brother.

  It was too late. The woman on the bed had been awoken. She looked mad, scared and fierce all at the same time. She stared at them with wide, brown eyes. There were heavy bags under each of those beautifully shaped almond eyes that were only enhanced by her pale skin. Scratches and bits of dried blood marred what he expected was perfectly smooth skin on her face. Her black hair was a tangled mess with little bits of birch tree seeds and various other foliage mixed in.

  Wyatt took in the rest of her appearance. She had clearly had a rough time of it judging by the tears in her khaki pants. Her over-large gray t-shirt was thread bare. Despite her rather roughshod appearance, she was stunning. The shapely arms revealed she was muscular, but not overly so. The woman was not a wilting flower; he could see that just by the look of defiance she was issuing.

  Wyatt held up his hands in a universal sign of surrender, “We aren't going to hurt you,” he stated slowly and calmly.

  She stared at his brother who was still pointing the gun at her. One raised eyebrow was all she needed to do to question his assertion.

  “Jack, put the gun away.”

  Wyatt turned back to the weary woman watching them. “Look, we aren't going to hurt you,” he paused, holstering his own weapon. “But, you are in our house, in our beds, so, well, you kinda need to tell us who you are.”

  His natural instinct was to protect a woman, especially a woman who was clearly on her own. The fact she had a young, sick child with her sealed the deal. He wasn't going to hurt her or kick them out. Call him chivalrous, but he wasn't about to send a woman and child off to fend for themselves. Not in this new world. His dad would never do something so harsh and he wanted to be like the man who gave his life for his family.

  The woman opened her mouth, but quickly snapped it shut. It took about 2 seconds for Wyatt to figure out why.

  “Who is she?” came a harsh voice from behind Wyatt.

  Before he could answer Albert, there was another voice, much more serious. “Did you check her for weapons?”

  Wyatt sighed, they weren't making the best first impression.

  “Chase, Albert, can we give the woman a chance to introduce herself before we drag her in front of the firing squad.” Wyatt winced when he heard the sharp intake of breath from the woman he had just threatened to put in front of a firing squad.

  He turned back to apologize. She had stood and was now stalking towards him, with no sign of fear.

  She stopped about 6 inches from him, pulled her perfect shoulders back and laid into him.

  “My name isn't important. Clearly you neanderthals were never taught common courtesy or human decency. For you to actually threaten a woman and her obviously ill daughter is despicable.”

  Wyatt took an involuntary step back as she pressed forward. He stepped on Jack's foot, who was also trying to get out of the way of the woman bearing down on them. The room suddenly shrank and the door opening narrowed. She was pissed. That was pretty obvious. The scared look had disappeared and she looked downright furious. Wyatt felt the need to explain himself and his friends.

  She didn't give him the chance.

  “Don't you worry about checking me for a weapon.” She pointed a finger at Chase, “Unlike you, I don't need to wave a gun about to scare people. Does that make you feel more like a man? Does it make you feel powerful?” She guffawed and swung her brown eyes back to Wyatt, “I, unlike you people, don't need a gun. I,” she jabbed herself in her chest with her own finger, “don't need weapons to defend myself.”

  Wyatt knew there was a domino effect happening. Jack, Albert and Chase had all lined up behind him to get into the room. With every step the woman advanced, he was pushing back. If he didn't stop his retreat, they were all going to fall on their butts.

  He started to speak again. He wasn't going to let her cut him off. Squaring his shoulders and speaking with as much confidence as he could gather, “I'm sorry. I, we, aren't going to hurt you.” Her nostrils flared and he realized he offended her again—somehow. “I mean, we aren't like that. We,” he stammered. “I mean, we, I mean, I am not like that. We aren't like that,” he said with authority. So much for the confidence he chided himself. He turned into a blubbering idiot.

  Her eyes b
ecame small slits and he could feel her looking him over. It was unnerving. It was exciting. It was completely brazen, but if he was being honest with himself, he loved it. It had been a few months since he experienced the excitement of meeting an attractive woman who showed any kind of interest in him. This interest may be a little on the negative side, but he could see she was passionate. Passionately hating him, but passion was passion. He grinned.

  Once she was finished with a very thorough inspection, she met his eyes again, “We will leave. Tell your little army to back off.” She sneered at Jack, “Stand down, big boy. This big, bad lady means you no harm.” Wyatt wanted to laugh at the woman who was probably only a little over 5 foot tall. He actually had to bend his head down to look at her. His little brother was just a couple inches shorter than he was. And Chase, well Chase had often been referred to as the Green Giant throughout high school. He had shot up their sophomore year and hadn't stopped growing. Chase had several inches on him.

  “You boys. Go take care of the door,” grumbled a clearly irritated Rosie. “Wyatt, Jack, you know better,” she said pushing them aside so she could get into the room. Wyatt flinched when he heard his mother's tone. He was 34, but it didn't mean his momma didn't scare him at times.

  Rosie marched right over to the opposite side of the bed and sat down. She put her hand out to feel the little girl's head. She wasn't the least bit bothered by the woman who was staring her down.

  “My name is Rosie Morris. The first two neanderthals,” she smiled when she said the word. “Those two are my boys. The grumpy old guy in the back is Albert and the one who wants to shoot everybody is Chase.”

  Wyatt watched his mom break down all the walls the woman had erected around her.

  “I'm Megan Wolford,” she said in a much calmer demeanor than she spoke to him with. He was only a little offended.

  “Ryland and Willow are waiting outside. I imagine Ryland will be thrilled to have another kid to hang out with.” While she talked, she had pulled the sheet from the little girl and was looking her over. Jack took that as his cue to leave and quickly shuffled out of the room.

  Wyatt decided it was best to leave his mom alone to do what she did best—mother and nurture. He turned and used his head to silently gesture to the rest of his group to leave. They did so and he gently closed the door behind him.

  Megan studied the woman carefully examining her daughter. Her natural instinct told her the woman was safe, but the overprotective mother in her wanted the woman to get away from her little girl.

  Rosie looked up at Megan as she carefully tucked the sheet back around Caitlin.

  “What's her name?” Rosie asked softly.

  “Caitlin.” Her manners were deeply ingrained and despite what the last three months had been like, she couldn't help but apologize for her initially rude behavior. “I'm sorry about earlier. Your sons had guns on me. It startled me.”

  Rosie smiled, “Sweetie, I probably would have tossed the lamp at them myself. Don't you worry about it. How long has Caitlin been sick?”

  Megan took a deep breath, “She only started acting sick about two days ago. She was fine until then.”

  Rosie nodded her head, “How old is she?”

  “Seven, but you would think she was 15 if you hear her talk.”

  That garnered a chuckle from the rosy-cheeked woman who was small in stature. Megan found it hard to believe she was the mother of the two very large men that had pushed their way into the room earlier. This woman had a gentle nature about her. Megan imagined she probably was the type of lady who baked and knitted before the world fell apart.

  “Well, dear,” Rosie spoke, interrupting Megan's reverie about days gone by. “Let's go into the kitchen. You can tell me more about her symptoms, we will get you some coffee and we will come up with a way to make her better.” She reached out and put a hand on Megan's bent knee. “You are safe here. I promise. Nobody will hurt you.”

  Megan was hesitant, but what choice did she have? She was out of options. She had heard of a hospital on the state line between Idaho and Washington, but there was no way she could carry Caitlin out the door let alone across the rough terrain.

  “I would appreciate anything you can do to help her,” Megan told her appreciatively. “I don't know what happened. I don't,” Rosie stopped her.

  “Let's go get a cup of coffee and we will go over it all from the beginning of her symptoms. I may have something on hand to treat her.”

  Megan instantly felt guilty. She already knew there was no medicine in the place. She looked down at the floor, trying to avert the woman's eyes.

  Rosie had that mother's instinct and smiled. “Not that kind of medicine. I have lots of herbs. I have used herbs to treat the boys and myself for years.”

  Megan was instantly intrigued. She had of course heard of herbal remedies, but to be honest, in a world where modern medicine was 5 minutes or a phone call away, she had never taken the time to learn about it. Thank God this woman did.

  Rosie walked to the door, holding it open, waiting for Megan to follow.

  Megan took a second to give Caitlin a kiss on the forehead. “Mommy will be right back, sweetie. I'm going to get you some medicine and we will get you all better soon.”

  Grab your copy of Dark Retreat here.