The Life After War Collection
Page 143
“Will she still want to be an Eagle?” Allan wondered.
The lowly muttered question got immediate attention.
“It’s not up to her!” Jeremy retorted harshly. “One gunshot wound is enough!”
With nothing to do but wait and watch Angela’s shallow breathing, most of the Eagles wore expressions that said it had been wrong of Adrian to let her join them.
“She won’t quit.” Adrian answered the disapproval this time. “We will have female Eagles, and sometimes, they’ll get hurt… Or die. It’s how things work in this new world.”
Leaning against a wall nearby, Cynthia stated what the Eagles were all thinking.
“You’re a cold, hard son of a bitch, Adrian Mitchel.” The reporter was covered in shock and fallout, aware that she now looked like one of them, as well.
“You have no idea,” Adrian retorted. He opened the door and did a fast sweep. Dusty but undamaged when they’d arrived, the rest stop was now the scene of a high-budget action film. Death and absolution coated the smoking set. “I brought her in because she belongs here.”
“And if she dies?”
Allan’s quick question made the Eagles wince.
Adrian sighed unhappily. “Then we’ll honor her by remembering that the freedom to choose this way of living, is what she gave her life for.”
“Mine…to give,” Angela uttered weakly, drawing their attention. Adrian’s need had brought her around, but where was Brady?
“Tell them…Cyn,” Angela choked out, torso burning. She let the darkness reclaim her, the pain too much to fight. If Marc wasn’t here, she didn’t want to be, either.
All eyes, except Adrian’s, went to the reporter. He was busy listening for the witch, hoping to hear those empty minefields tell him that Angela would live. He wasn’t worried about Cynthia’s coming words, despite this being her first real chance to bring it all down. He cared only for the witch’s comfort, and the continued silence was deafening.
Cynthia slowly raised her head, splattered in red drops that were tacky on her skin and clothes.
“Did you think he was bluffing when he said your life for his sheep?” Her contemptuous words raked them brutally, none of the men prepared for the depth of her scorn. “Are you all that blind?”
Cynthia looked toward Angela’s bloody body, and then down at the filthy gun she would never part with. “It’s too late to go back now…for all of us.”
There was a stunned silence after those words, one where every Eagle there realized that the days of fighting with Cynthia might be over.
Cynthia glanced up at the man she would have destroyed if given enough time. Would Adrian reward her awful sacrifice?
Still in the doorway, tempting fate, Adrian’s blue eyes glowed only for her, for what she’d done. “You have one request.”
Cynthia looked back down at the murder weapon she had grabbed without a thought as they ran for cover from the rain. Cesar’s blood was flecked across the muddy barrel.
“I want to do it again. I want to be her XO.”
“You’ll have to work for it,” Adrian warned, ignoring the disbelieving glares and snorts from his men. “Samantha also wants that place.”
Neil opened his mouth, but didn’t follow through with the protest. He’d known that, but hadn’t really faced what it meant. Now, he had to. Samantha could be the next female bleeding out in some shitty little town for Adrian’s dreams.
“I’ll earn it,” Cynthia promised.
“Yes, you will. Welcome to my army, Cynthia.” Adrian glanced at Jeremy, who was staring in distress. “Take care of her until we get back? I’ll assign someone else then.”
“Whatever you think is best,” Jeremy forced out. He hadn’t thought Cynthia would ever become a convert.
“She’s shivering.” Kyle drew attention back to the other female. “Do we have a heat source?”
“Didn’t think we’d need it,” Neil informed them regretfully.
“We’ll use body heat,” Adrian stated.
“You’re beat, Boss.” Neil knew Adrian hadn’t slept at all the night before they’d left camp. “Take the first shift and Kyle can relieve you.”
Adrian’s mind flashed to the waiting nightmares and then to the man speeding through the apocalyptic darkness to get here. “I’m good. Kyle first, you next.”
Kyle stored the change. He and Neil had both seen and heard enough over the last month to know that Adrian wanted to be the one holding Angela, no matter the reason. The fact that he hadn’t taken the opportunity said Marc wouldn’t be okay with it.
With the excessive speed and reckless driving they all assumed he would use, Marc should arrive in about five hours. Adrian had timed it so that his best friend would be the one doing heat duty when he arrived. It meant Marc had also discovered Adrian’s other secret–he wanted Angela for more than just the safety of his flock.
It was something they hadn’t discussed, but Kyle and Neil knew it was coming. Somewhere down the road, Adrian might become unworthy. They could only be loyal to him if he remained honorable and the instant Adrian crossed that line, he would lose it all. If Angela lived, his margin for error in the future, especially where she was concerned, would be slim. If she died, that would put their hard-assed leader into the red now.
Kyle ignored everyone watching him carefully lay down between Angela and the wall. He tucked her against his chest, unable to stop a grim smile as he saw her left hand tighten around her secondary gun.
Kyle adjusted them until she was fully covered and breathing evenly, and then laid his head by hers. “Easy, rookie. I’ve got you.”
As if she heard, Angela’s hand slid from the gun.
Kyle took her cold fingers into his warm grip and closed his eyes. When shit hit the fan, he was the one to call, but he also had a soft side that most of the sheep and the shepherds would have been surprised to discover. Holding Angela so that Adrian could burn her was a torment, a bond, and Kyle didn’t think he would ever be free of it.
Jeremy slid down next to Cynthia, noting that she still had her gun in her hand. He gently wrapped his jacket around her shoulders, but didn’t tell her to put the weapon away. Though only a rookie, she was now an Eagle, with her own choices to make.
“Thanks.” The smell of his jacket was thick with the battle, but the heat was welcome. Cynthia wasn’t sure she would ever be warm again.
“Sure.” Jeremy waited, wondering if she wanted to talk, but the reporter only leaned her head against the brick wall.
After a minute, Jeremy did the same, glad he didn’t have to deal with it yet. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her joining, or even what she’d done, beyond being as grateful as everyone else. Cynthia was an Eagle…one of them. That dangerous fact would require some adjustment.
Still a bit dazed and not totally convinced that he or any of them had actually survived, Jeremy let the darkness take him away.
Sleep, however, came cruelly. It snatched rest and provided moments of heart wrenching terror that snapped men awake with fearful, desperate breathing. It was the only noise heard for hours.
5
The sound of a snarling engine being pushed to the limit jerked Eagles into a tense, groggy alertness. They exchanged worried glances as they waited in the rest stop, but didn’t draw weapons. That was a Safe Haven setup roaring through the cleared road behind them. Marc had made the five-hour trip in three.
Adrian opened the door himself. The slaver threat was over. Now, the bill for that freedom was due in full and Angela wasn’t the only one paying on it.
End of Book 2
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Notes from the author
Hello Blurry Reader!
Once again, I didn’t want to cut it where I did. However, there are still 100+ pages of aftermath and there just wasn’t room for them here. I hope you liked this edition of Life After War. The next book takes us toward Arkansas, where Adrian’s personal mystery begins to unravel.
Did you know you can leave me a comment on Facebook? I honestly read them! I love hearing from readers. You ladies and gentlemen are to me, what the Eagles are to Adrian–Everything.
And by the way, thanks. About half way through this book, I was nervous. The story wasn’t flowing right, the ending was in choppy segments, and the bad reviews on book one’s editing were dragging me into the fiery depths of hell. By page 800, I was overwhelmed, wondering how I’d get it all in ‘book’ form. At the point that I pasted the ending into the file, I had 185,000 words, 990 pages, and Writer’s Shake.
Let me tell you a little about the Shakes. It’s not an official illness, but it should be. It’s when you stare at the words without a clue as to how to wrangle them into submission. You’re exhausted, more drained than even after the best orgasm of your life, and yet, there’s this whole other mountain to climb. But it’s a labor of love and you struggle to your feet, swaying, reaching out for support from the one source that’s kept you going so far–your readers.
They respond with a kindness you never really thought would happen, shoving your dreams into vivid clarity. They love your work! They’ve fallen into a passionate affair with your world and they yearn for more. They email you and leave wonderful comments on your website. They tell people about you, send pictures of themselves wearing Safe Haven dog tags, and in the midst of your dreams coming true, you realize that you’re shaking.
Why? Because you still haven’t managed to climb that other mountain and all those delightful people are now waiting…and waiting…and waiting. The longer it takes to get to the top, the harder you shake. By the summit, your gut is one big Prevacid and no one in your household will even walk by the door where you’re working for fear of being decapitated. The pizza delivery boy knows your card # by heart and all you can think about is how nice it was to be asleep a lifetime ago.
The Shakes are unpleasant. Non-writers often assume authors spend a few hours a day writing and the rest goofing off. It’s only that cushy when your last name is infamous and I am nowhere near that. This stress is one small downside of my new life, never worked harder on anything, never been more proud. That driving force, those shakes, pushed me into a place where I can stand in safety, knowing the final result is one I’m honored to share.
Adrian’s Eagles was finished for me, on All Fool’s Day, 2012. I heard the door shut when Cynthia pulled that trigger and I shut it gently, but I didn’t bother with the lock. We’ll be returning to Safe Haven and its magic…only next time, I’ll have the memory of this feeling to lean on when I shake.
I love you guys, I hope you know that. If the world really does end, we’ll start our own Haven! Lol. Thank you for your purchase, and for gifting me with your time.
It’s been my honor,
Angie
On a more personal note, I would also like to thank the great people who beta-read for me, hosted me on their sites and blogs, and offered their services to me. It was an honor to work with those Eagles.
Eagle Teams
Level Seven
Kyle, Chris, Daryl, Billy, Shawn, Morgan, Theo, Crone, Denny, Angela (Level One)
Level Six
Neil, Jeremy, Daniel, Greg, Wade, Ben, Steven, Jim, Jake
Level Four
Zack, Lee, Allan, Frank, Donald, Ozzie, Brandon, Pete, Simon
Level Four
Seth, Jeff, Rusty, Jack, Ryan, Bruce, Tommy, Joey, Robert
Level Two
Kevin, Ray, Alex, Dexter, Logan, Scott, Francis, Whitney, Josh
Level One
Marc, Jax, Paul, Quinn, Shane, Dwayne, George, Howard, Bobby
Rookies
Tucker, Anderson *A number of camp members are also under consideration.
Deleted Scene
“What’s going on?”
Seth shrugged at her question. “We’re not sure. Kenn hasn’t checked in.”
Angela immediately sent the witch out to search. When she stopped, so did Seth, saying, “We need to–”
“It’s all right.” Adrian came through the fog and the man retreated.
“They’re hiding in a cornfield off a highway. Bikes, gunshots…screams.”
The witch’s voice sounded ominous in the thick fog and Adrian’s hand slid to his gun for comfort.
“They’re coming this way.”
“Can you send a message? Tell him there’s a distraction coming, to dig in.”
She shut her lids as Adrian gave Seth instructions. The guard was gone an instant later.
“The slavers found their vehicles, but with all the darkness and fog they can’t find…”
Adrian frowned, waiting.
“They’re too close, too loud. Kenn’s pinned down.”
“It’s a go, Boss.”
Adrian pushed the button on the mike in response to the radio call. “Now.”
Seconds later, there was a shrieking whistle and a dull thud as a rocket launched, barreling east. It exploded over the dark landscape and a shower of purple stars lit up behind the fog like a magic show.
“Another. Two more after that, thirty seconds apart.”
The shriek came again, whistling though the night before filling the sky in gold and blue showers of light.
“They’ve changed directions. The Eagles are circling around.”
“Tell them to meet us on the road.”
Fireworks exploded again, drawing more people, and Rick crouched lower as he pushed the button on the mike.
“It’s a trick. You’ll know what I mean if you’re hunting hard enough for the rat in the corn.”
There was a double click in response.
Rick quickly put the channel to where it had been and got out of the unmanned Com truck. He faded into the fog a second later.
The traitor had heard Angela’s words while roaming under the cover of the weather, and when the teenager running the radio stepped away for a better view of the fireworks, Rick had seized the chance to help the slavers.
He now entered the shower camper, nodding to a guard who was already using one of the stalls. He needed Cesar to hurry up before he blew his own cover with Neil’s murder. A few more times of having to witness him and Samantha together might be enough to send him into a rage that would only end in blood.
“What’s going on out there?” Morgan asked.
Rick pulled off his shirt. “Fireworks to the east. No alarm sounded yet.”
The Eagle continued his shower and Rick was careful to have a casual conversation that would be remembered later and provide an uncontested alibi.
Character Profiles
Cesar Castro Diaz
Age: 43
Eyes: Black
Height: 5'10”
Weight: 195 lbs.
Birthday: 1/4/70
Gold Front Tooth, Kinked, black curls, two missing fingers on left hand.
Before war: Infamous Mexican Guerilla Captain
After war: Leader of an invading army.
Quote: “I will have the witch! Nothing will stop me wh
en I come for her!”
Cesar was raised by one of Mexico’s most ruthless men. Bred to be a warrior in his father’s army, he is a hardened man who labored his way up the ranks through violence and manipulation. The number of Americans he is rumored to have killed before the war is over two hundred. A month after the war, it was a thousand.
Right after the Apocalypse, Cesar took a large group of men to the US border to rescue friends and family in Arizona and New Mexico detention centers. When he encountered no resistance, he seized the opportunity, invading. The vile man intends to keep anyone from rebuilding and hopes to seed the country with as many bastards as he can, leaving America an occupied land.
Samantha Moore
Age: 28
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 125 lbs.
12/24/84
Seattle EPA worker, Doesn’t fear death, only pain, Craves morphine after doing self-surgery, Had a pass to a bunker for saving the President’s life
Quote: “There’s a storm coming.”
FBI Notes
Marker identified. Subject can predict weather with a 98% accuracy rate. Has been used twice. Should be kept close enough to be useful. No termination orders are expected unless an anti-government attitude develops.
Strengths
Will do whatever she has to, no matter how ugly it gets.
Incredibly strong.
Weaknesses
Too forgiving. She often ignores flaws that most people wouldn’t.
Had so little contact with the outside world that she always feels like an outcast.
Kenn Harrison