The Life After War Collection

by Angela White

  “What about the big guns?” Grendin needed to know. His people were too familiar with those.

  Marc patted the paper. “Remember to use their weaknesses. Take out the tripods, or better, the road. If they can’t roll the heavy equipment over it, they’ll have to leave it behind. Any questions?”

  “What happens when they take the base?”

  “That’s the ballgame,” Marc grunted. “Get to your people and get ready to defend yourselves. I suggest joining up with Safe Haven. If I survive, that’s where I’ll be.”

  “You’ll stay there?” Kendle asked uneasily.

  Marc put an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll go home and make a last stand in the mountains.”

  Kendle was comforted and Marc’s men were pleased with the plan. Now, he would put them in the mood to fight.

  “Get your riders together. There’s an armory not far from here and I’m fairly sure it’s untouched.”

  “How is that possible?” Sebastian questioned. “Cesar came through here and picked it clean.”

  Marc grinned. “Because it’s underground and there was no need for them to go there. If we don’t grab it tonight, the enemy will have it. There’s one in nearly every state and we’re going to get to them before the soldiers do. They’ll still find ways to arm themselves when their own stocks run out, but by then it’ll be on the same terms as the rest of us–post SHTF.” Marc glanced around. “Slow them down. Get close, pick off a few, and get ghost. Three raids a day, always at different times, and with all the hatred in your hearts. We’ve declared war this time.”

  10

  They waited for two full days with no signs of the soldiers.

  Marc knew they were coming, though. He could feel it, and the same was true of the others. Among his own kind–killers–Marc didn’t have to spend time calming or easing panic so that they didn’t flee, like he would have had to do with Safe Haven fighters. They knew the golden rule: If you were sent to fight, then the enemy, the battle, always came. They just had to suffer through the wait.

  Marc sensed them first, but Kendle was close on his heels as he went to the window they’d tinted yesterday to prevent the glare from giving them away. In the other windows, men ducked down and began taking mental notes.

  The first sight of the enemy was intimidating.

  The lines of uniformed, neatly marching soldiers sent a shiver into every gut, including Marc’s. It was an entire battalion, like he’d predicted. Serious, quickly moving sets of soldiers marched smartly across the bones and debris long since molded into the hell of their masters. Their hard gazes swiveled continuously, thick guns ready to fire.

  Marc kept his men below the window line and silent while he did his recon. It would only take one mistake to get them all killed right here.

  “They’re not using standard formation,” Marc muttered, spotting units that were usually support and took half an hour to arrive, now staying within minutes.

  “It won’t hold, that pace,” Sebastian observed. “They’ll get tired and gap out.”

  Marc agreed, but didn’t stop going through a full consideration of switching plans. When he was satisfied that this was still the best way, he spent a few minutes listing weapons and equipment, and other important details for Kendle to write down.

  They all waited tensely for the first part of the miles long battalion to reach the choosing point. Those below the window line kept to themselves, handling their impatience with this part of the plan. Kendle occupied herself by digging the tip of the pen into her leg to see the blood.

  “25,” Marc breathed. “Shut up.”

  The battalion had to pass the building where the Shadow Riders were concealed. They’d be trapped if spotted.

  Marc made his men demonstrate their control and their level of commitment by keeping them under cover until even the sound of the vehicles couldn’t be heard. Kendle, who was now rooting around in her leg with that pen like a surgeon, he left alone.

  11

  An hour after the battalion was gone, Marc took his men for a hard, looping ride to get ahead of the soldiers, then held a quick meeting. He told the scouts to leave and do their reporting, eager to be alone with the best few.

  “I’ll let the others know and meet you where my rookies are.”

  Marc was quickly left with nervous men who were a mix of the groups who’d come. As they slowly moved down 25 ahead of the soldiers, Marc filled them in on the next part of his plan.

  “There’s a scouting party up here. I detoured around them as we came in so that we didn’t give away our element of surprise.” Marc grinned ruthlessly. “Their free pass is over. We’ll kill them all and then go meet up. First blood is ours.”

  Savage nods and leers met his words.

  Marc was satisfied. They were as worried and angry as he was at the sight of the enemy. They wanted to strike hard and do it right now.

  “Come dawn, we’ll start teaching them not to underestimate us.”

  11

  Kendle stifled a moan as she observed the campfire below her post. Marc had ordered them to attack just before sunrise, but that was hours away and Kendle wasn’t sure about lasting another ten minutes. The need to spill blood was rolling over her in thick waves. That tiny hope of a cure had vanished after listening to the soldiers talk. The rage sickness was spreading unchecked–another weapon unleashed by the government to wipe out survivors. There was no way they’d give them the cure after all the death and destruction Marc was set to cause. His plans, the few he confided, were lethal ambushes that would spill more blood than she could ever enjoy.

  Except, she had to wait and it hurt. The shivers and twitches had come this morning and hadn’t stopped racking her nervous system. Lances of pain had started as they camped.

  The men below them had no idea that death was coming. They sat around an open fire, enjoying the cool breeze as they slept and stood watch. There were eight of them, four in their bedrolls, while two had higher positions. The other two soldiers lingered by the small fire, exchanging short bursts of conversation.

  Kendle already knew how she would do it. The perimeter men were keeping a loose guard around the others, sometimes stopping to view something on the ground or in the distance. Kendle was sure she could get at least two of them that way, then she’d have to make noise. The suppressor on her gun might not echo to the next team that was half an hour behind, but those sleeping men would definitely notice. She would have to be perfect and Kendle didn’t have enough faith in her skills to test that yet. She’d been okay with a rifle on her show and sucked at handguns. It hadn’t changed much.

  Poison them, her demon whispered. They’ve been on government food since the war. Look at how they keep staring at the dark stores.

  Kendle saw it was true. The men wanted to break orders and go exploring for anything that might have survived the destruction. Maybe she could help them with that.

  A few minutes later, Kendle slipped out of camp with a small bag in her hand. Sebastian hadn’t even haggled, just accepted her trade.

  Marc hadn’t woken to stop her. They weren’t bonded, so he didn’t sense her absence. This time, Kendle was glad he was busy dreaming of his precious Angie.

  13

  “I’m telling you. I smell chips.”

  The private sniffed deeply and groaned. “Mmm. Extra cheesy…”

  “And I’m tellin’ you, I’m smoked,” one of the others sneered in response, tired of the line. “So shut up.”

  The other men snickered, but each of them understood. To finally be out here and not be able to dig up supplies was maddening. A bag of chips, any flavor or brand, was worth gold among the ranks.

  “I’m gonna take a four minute sweep of that building,” the Private stated calmly. “For possible intruders, you know?”

  No one protested. Besides wanting him to shut up about it, each of them had considered voicing the idea themselves, but hadn’t gotten the nerve yet. Command was firm about following orders.


  The Private disappearing into the building made them all uneasy and they waited nervously for him to come out.

  “Yes! Extra cheesy!”

  The call let them relax and grin, knowing he’d found something they would all share in.

  The Private emerged from the darkness carrying two familiar bags. One was open.

  “Musta popped from the pressure of the desk it was under, but they’re still good!”

  He crunched loudly in demonstration and the others crowded close to get their share.

  Both bags were quickly gone as the sleeping men were woken to join them. The sound of happy crunching was all the noise any of them could hear.

  The Private reached for the dwindling bag, blinking as sweat rolled into his eyes. Was it hot out now?

  They all stopped eating at roughly the same time, but it was too late. The men began falling unconscious from the chemicals Kendle had rubbed on the outside of the bag.

  When all of them were down, she drew her knife and entered their fire light with red orbs and a harsh grin.

  14

  “Where’s Kendle?”

  Marc approached the small crowd angrily, thinking she was in the center, being hurt. What he saw as they parted to let him through chilled his blood.

  Marc stared for a long time, considering. She was too far gone to save.

  He slowly turned away from the gruesome scene. He had only one place left to go for answers.

  How do I help her?

  The demon roused himself tiredly. He was ready for this, knew to be prepared, but it was still regret in his answer. Nothing. Only Adrian’s light might, but the odds are slim.

  Why can’t I heal her?

  You would use your new life credit on this woman?

  No. If I have a credit to give, it belongs to my son, Marc answered slowly, thinking it through and still missing what that meant.

  As you wish.

  What if…what if someone else does it?

  Any of our kind may heal, the demon replied. If they can push it back enough, Adrian will help.

  Marc was relieved to have a solution that he could live with. He waved Sebastian and Natoli along, moving carefully to where she was still slicing. “Kendle?”

  Kendle spun around, throwing her knife.

  Marc used his kit to capture the blade. He grinned, impressed. “Nice.”

  Kendle blinked away the haze, but not the lust.

  “Not me,” Marc denied. “One of the others and then you’ll be his or passed around.”

  “I make my own rules!” she snarled.

  “Then I’ll shoot you here and now,” he warned.

  Kendle wanted him to. She was horrified by what she’d become. She was also a survivor, a child of the light who yearned to be normal again.

  Kendle slid to her knees. “Help me or kill me. You pick.”

  Marc approached her without fear and scooped her into his arms.

  Kendle let Marc take her back to camp. When he held a canteen toward her, she dutifully cleaned up, not caring that dozens of men stared as she stripped and changed into the clean clothes Marc held out. She liked the hot feeling, liked the respect and envy they gave Marc for it. She also loathed it and longed for her little island. She’d been happy there, once upon a time.

  15

  “Here they come. Remember what I’ve shown you, how you’ve practiced,” Marc eased them into battle mode, aware of nerves. “Not one sighting, not one crunch of gravel.”

  Marc pulled his mask down, shoving into their minds. We are the ghosts of America. We do this for our country, because she cannot do it for herself.

  Eager to live up to that reputation, the thirty fighters in the rocks around him covered their grins and their posts. The things Marc had begun to teach them were the stuff of legend and fantasy. They couldn’t wait to practice it on the enemy.

  Marc smothered his own leer of intense need. He hadn’t done this since before the war, and never under these completely free circumstances. The things he and the demon had come up with were awful.

  “Three minutes,” Marc reminded. “Set alarms.”

  Wrists were brandished shortly for each of them to hit the button on alarms that were already set. As the numbers began spinning, Marc pulled up his hood and fastened it to the collar. “Justice will be served.”

  Those words were a mental switch that Marc was installing. When hit, concentration on only one goal became easier, survival and success more likely. Against this enemy, he and his team needed any edge they could find.

  Marc motioned them down as the dust cloud that preceded the government thickened on the nearest rise. The ghosts in black and gray observed in silence as the danger came into view.

  The front line of soldiers made it to the canyon mouth and started to funnel in, thickening the lines into a blur of marching legs. Slight crumbles of rock on their sides and above them made some of the soldiers react in concern, but most were uncaring. They’d already come a good distance and there was a lot longer to go. Few of them liked this duty, but when command orders came down, you followed them or a bullet followed you.

  More rock crumbling drew attention upward in nervous glances that shifted the line of soldiers into occasional disorder and quick shoves. It sent a faint burst of excitement through the Point men, and allowed grins and joking. Other missions they’d performed had been almost fun, but this one–going to wipe out the only known camp of survivors trying to rebuild–had been weighing heavily on them.

  “Maybe we won’t have to kill them,” one of the men on the right Point commented, awkwardly avoiding a tangle of weeds. “Maybe they’ll surrender.”

  “Their women, showers, and food–in that order,” one of the others responded.

  Chuckles floated through the canyon.

  “Hey, watch out!”

  A large rock tumbled down the canyon wall and slammed into the base of fallen stones lining the narrowing path. Men jumped out of the way, swearing as they hit a tangled mess of tripwire and triggers hidden under the debris. The last of the razor wire from the slaver battle jerked up between the haphazard rows.

  “Ahh!”

  “Trap!”

  “Go back!”

  Another trigger was hit as the men turned; snapping a second sharp wire up to do the same damage it had caused at the rest stop. Blood coated the narrow canyon mouth and stones lining it.

  The rear of the platoon began issuing orders that had to be relayed. In that time, two more rows of men vanished in a glinting snap of wire and guts.

  Panic ensued from those closest, soldiers wildly firing upward as they fled into the safety of the halting troops. A quick barricade went up and the order to open fire upon sight was sent.

  Wind-driven dust spun across the rocks and valley in front of them, small animals scurrying under the cover of the sand.

  Nothing else moved.

  Now needing to clear the area, the entire platoon was stopped for an hour while the men in charge made their choice either to continue this way, clearing as they went, or to find another route through the mountains. When they decided to keep going, the shadow riders were delighted. They’d secured all areas of travel, but this was the fastest route to Safe Haven and they’d laid things on the thickest here. The platoon would spend a lot of time searching and clearing to make it through, which would buy Angela more time to get the camp ready to fight the soldiers who did survive Marc’s horrible fun land. This would be the longest journey that any of these soldiers had ever undertaken, he would make sure of that.

  Dusk found the platoon in the same place, settling in for the night as small teams continued to clear their path. As these men removed the more obvious decoys, ghosts went behind and replaced the minor ambushes with something more lethal. They also traveled the rocks above the platoon, getting into position. Phase Four had begun.

  15

  A rough hand shook Quinn awake.

  “Marc called from Denver on the coded channel. The soldiers
are coming down 25.”

  A chill of doom flooded the base, snapping Eagles awake with fear in their hearts.

  Quinn instantly went into authority mode, issuing orders and keeping things calm, but inside, he was as upset as they were. Each of them had hoped Marc would say there was nothing coming, that they could all go home.

  “Not happening now,” Quinn muttered, unrolling the map Marc had given them.

  “Where are we on the avenues of approach?”

  “AAs are almost finished,” Shane reported. “Still working on the reservoirs. Little over half on those.”

  “All work on the AAs are suspended until we get those reservoirs wired. Set a skeleton crew here, the rest of us get over there come dawn.”

  Shane went to tell the others. The reservoirs were a powerful defense that stood between them and the enemy. It had to be ready.

  “Marc said to expect riders that will help.”

  Quinn was glad to hear it. They would get the reservoirs done and then the avenues of approach would have to be completed or the enemy would be able to go around their other traps.

  “Send a rider to Safe Haven, let them know.”

  “Can we call?”

  “No,” Quinn chose. “Marc’s smart enough to contact us without getting caught. We aren’t able to do that from here. It’s time to go quiet.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  These Dreams

  Tishomingo State park, MS

  1

  Damn.

  Back to the heavily protected flap, Angela knew who had just entered the training tent. She ignored him as she went on with her own workout. The canvas was deserted except for them, dawn’s dim light still an hour away. The only shadows moving outside were Eagles.

  Tishomingo Park was almost as ugly as the city she’d avoided to bring them here. The leaves under their feet were old, decaying and treacherous. The ground was shifty, like a sinkhole might be waiting, and everyone was glad they weren’t staying long. The derelict buildings and sheds were eerie. Angela had camped them in the family area of the park, but put a 24-hour detail on the bridge that some of the camp had been crazy enough to ask about.