The Life After War Collection

by Angela White

  This was a one-day camp that she and her two personal guards had entered a short time ago. There were still Eagles at the first site and she would return there, but Marc had insisted that she leave each evening for a secure location to sleep. She’d agreed, knowing it wouldn’t matter if fate decided to hand her another challenge. It had made Marc feel better and that had been her goal.

  Tomorrow or the day after Angela would have most of her people reunited, with the bulk of the damage done during the next 24-hours. The soldiers currently sneaking up her mountain in the darkness were about to have the roughest day of their lives.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Make Me Believe It

  1

  Marc’s group was somber as they approached Safe Haven’s den in the eerie dusk. The carrion birds circling the gritty sky said they were walking into another scene of death. The ten fighters braced for it to be their loved ones.

  Marc had more hope than the others and shared it as they topped the cliff. “They were supposed to leave if this cave was attacked.”

  “Were they supposed to blow it up?” Kenn asked in horror at the buried bodies and dried blood.

  “Yes,” Marc responded. “And those aren’t our people.”

  “But their wearing Eagle…” Kenn trailed off as he realized there were no level patches on the jackets. “Copies!”

  “Yes,” Marc said, leading them around the carnage and back down the cliff. “Copied back before Adrian chose to show rank. Angie was right.”

  “About what?” Kenn asked, staying on Marc’s right as they moved by the path that led to the carnage.

  “She said their information will be weeks or even months behind. It will give us the advantage in every trap they try to set, because the details won’t be exactly right.

  Jeff, who had begun to scour the area the instant they topped the cliff, came to Marc’s left in a much better mood. “We only lost one back there, down the hill, and all of the other camps are gone–headed the way you are.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Kip. Shot.”

  “Damn.”

  Jeff agreed, but silently, out of respect for the dead. Kip had been up for rookie team leader and though he was obnoxious, it had kept Stanley from getting that place. The clumsy medic was unbearable as a boss, worse than Kenn, but he worked tirelessly.

  “I’ll take care of that after,” Marc promised, moving faster now that the fresh rush of adrenalin had woken them all up. He was aware of Charlie frowning as he came up between his dad and Kenn.

  “Have you guys heard anything from Tracy?”

  “No, but we wouldn’t if she was with the rest of the camp.”

  “That happened hours ago. She should have gotten here right before us,” Charlie insisted. “So where is she?”

  “Already tracking the camp, like we are,” Marc guessed. “If she’s not with them, we’ll go out looking.”

  “Can we call mom? Now?”

  Marc started to try and was stopped by Jeff handing him an envelope. The brown wrapper was in bad shape, but unopened.

  Charlie watched in worry as Marc opened it.

  Marc’s face tightened, eyes flashing betrayal, and it told Charlie to prepare himself.

  Marc handed him the sheet of paper.

  Stay with your dad or you’ll get Tracy killed.

  Charlie tried to pry into Marc’s mind, to see if he knew more details, but Marc’s demon shoved him out with the flick of a wrist.

  Best grow up first, son.

  Enraged, Charlie began screaming at his mom.

  Marc wasn’t able to treat his son the way he had others who’d reacted this way. He nodded curtly to Stanley.

  Stanley had orders to tranquilize whomever Marc told him to and he came forward with a syringe, but Charlie felt him and whirled around, swinging.

  Stanley fell onto his back as Jeff and Quinn quickly grabbed the irate teenager, but Marc waved him off. Instead, he grabbed Charlie’s head and forced him to lock eyes.

  “Look at this, at the future coming for us!”

  Charlie couldn’t refuse the command of the alpha or the strength of Marc entering his mind with what looked like armageddon scenes.

  “They’re going to bomb us, boy. Between the destruction and the aftermath, we’ll lose the entire state. Trust your mom. Trust me.”

  The boy was in agony at the thought of Tracy being used as the other females had for this terrible plan, but he shook off the men holding him, visibly calming down. “Both of you would sacrifice Tracy to win!”

  “Do you think so?” Marc asked coldly, continuing down the hill. “Don’t you think she knows if Tracy dies, she loses you? Wake up, boy! She’s got that type of deal going with every Eagle under her command.”

  “And there will be losses,” Jeff reminded them both gravely. “There already have been. It won’t be her fault. She’s done the best she could to keep the dreams alive.”

  “Slam the dreams!” Charlie shouted, taking point to hurry things along.

  Marc let him go, not sure if Angela had this covered or if she’d set it up to be sure Charlie experienced this feeling. Either way, Marc wasn’t okay with how she was toying with everyone’s lives. If they lost, he wouldn’t be able to put this many pieces back together for her.

  Jeff, following orders, waved a smart salute to Marc and vanished down a narrow path into the weeds.

  2

  This is it.

  Cynthia went over it one last time as the engines rumbled toward her and the sentries on the area began sounding the alarm by triggering her watch. All of the people going in this way had been given special watches with their orders. Hers had gone off once already and she’d slowly unzipped herself to be ready, like her instructions had stated. The cold had seeped into her Military Sleep System setup quickly after that.

  Cynthia could see the light from her watch, but didn’t move and shut it off. She was protected by the dirt over her shallow grave and she needed the time to let her eyes adjust. Until she rose, she couldn’t be sure if it was day or night, though Angela’s estimate had said it would be hours before dawn when the soldiers broke through the camps of dozing Eagles. The cold air coming in through her air straw said the boss was right, though Cynthia was sure she’d never tasted fog before for the comparison.

  The rumbling grew louder and she heard male voices. She waited in terrified excitement.

  Start counting when you’re sure it’s them.

  Cynthia blinked rapidly, in time with her new heart beat. One. Two Three.

  Get your body set, plan the moves.

  Muscles flexed a bit, fingers dug into the dirt for a light coating to grip with. She would kick up to loosen the dirt, lunge from her hole, and pause for a two-count to get her bearings amid the men she could feel walking overtop of her now.

  Four. Five. Six.

  Prepare yourself by imagining exactly what will happen. Hear it, smell it, taste it.

  Cynthia saw herself limping to the waiting weapon, jerking the tree cover rope as shouts of spotting her echoed and possible gunfire came.

  Seven. Eight. Nine.

  Keep firing until your guards drag you off or the soldiers are all dead.

  That was the suicide part of the run and Cynthia saw herself being careful with her aim so that she could still be alive when her guards arrived.

  It was a relief, now that the moment was here, to know she wasn’t alone.

  Cynthia finished the count with no thoughts of anything except the plan she’d just gone over.

  Ten.

  Give them no mercy.

  Cynthia sucked in a calming breath and kicked upward with both legs to loosen the dirt.

  Daryl and Kevin were running toward the battle side-by-side, aware of the screams, the explosions, but mostly of Cynthia’s almost constant firing. She was shouting, one long cry of ‘do or die’, and the panic was a shared torment. They stayed behind the trees, coming down to where she was firing from as the entire squa
d of soldiers flooded toward her.

  Another explosion echoed, followed by four more in rapid succession. The first wave of soldiers was killed with the well-aimed grenades. Bodies flew across the battlefield.

  Another line of men came over the corpses as Cynthia reloaded and she paused long enough to slam her hand into the box she’d secured to the tree.

  The trigger clicked. She ducked as the branches flew out and hit the soldiers who were still under orders to take hostages. Men and guns spewed through the air as Cynthia hurriedly dropped the huge shells into place.

  “Come on!”

  “Let’s go!”

  Cynthia heard her escorts arrive, but she wasn’t wasting a full load. She jerked the trigger with calculated pauses between, taking out specific targets–the two front vehicles, a rear truck shaped like a tank, and a cluster of soldiers trying to get to their radiophones.

  In the distance, a much bigger explosion echoed, impossible to pinpoint a direction on, but Kevin and Daryl didn’t have time to worry over it. They each grabbed an arm and started dragging Cynthia away from the scene as the remaining dozen men came flooding over the wreckage, firing.

  Cynthia kicked out at a second black box on the tree, but missed.

  “Hit that button!” she screamed, struggling.

  Daryl slammed a hand against it and then used brute strength to lift Cynthia onto his shoulder.

  Cynthia twisted to take the blow with her hip, ducking as another line of branches swung out.

  Kevin was hit by the tip of the longest branch, and knocked onto his back as it flew by to smack into the running soldiers.

  Kevin jumped up, gun ready, and began firing at the wounded survivors who were trying to do the same.

  Still over Daryl’s shoulder, Cynthia also started firing.

  Daryl turned so she could get a better aim, raising his own weapon, and the trio stayed face-to-face with their enemy as they killed them. The shock of a dead woman rising from the ground to fire a multi-shot grenade launcher had given Cynthia the advantage.

  Trapped in the middle of the convoy, three younger soldiers held up their hands in surrender, begging not to be killed.

  Daryl felt Cynthia tense for the next shots and spun her so that the slugs plunged into the ground instead, his ears ringing. The soldiers capable of fleeing, did so.

  “Hey!”

  Daryl swung her down as Kevin came to his side.

  Cynthia stopped protesting as she realized what she’d been about to do. She frowned a bit, considering. “I was told no mercy.”

  Before either man could stop her, she whirled around and opened fire.

  She got all three of the man who had unwisely chosen to run down the middle of the debris-covered street. They made perfect targets among the flames and smoke.

  Daryl and Kevin both shouted, but they didn’t interfere when she began walking the bloody battlefield, executing the survivors she found. After a minute, both men reluctantly joined her. Their only orders had been to keep Cynthia alive and be her support.

  Cynthia stopped in the center of the carnage to read the next envelope. She found only one sheet of paper.

  Stay with Marc until Kenn goes rogue, then get to me at the first campsite.

  Cynthia looked up to find Daryl and Kevin on full alert as shadows came in from the north.

  Marc stepped over the pile of bodies, impressed and horrified.

  Kenn handled the moment, relishing the feel of being in battle. “Donner’s biggest camp is two miles from here, which means machine guns, heavy gates, lots of guards. We’re staying low and waiting on one more.”

  Cynthia immediately started searching through the bodies for anything she could use.

  Kevin took a place by her side, angry now that she was safe. “Why did you have to do it that way? You could have been hurt! What are you trying to–”

  “I was supposed to die here, Kevin,” Cynthia interrupted tonelessly. “Please don’t nag me on my Death Day.”

  She left him standing there in shocked amusement and revulsion. He’d never been more confused.

  Daryl also wanted a word with Cynthia and she braced for it as he stepped in front of her.

  Daryl smiled. “Please don’t kill me for this, okay?” He leaned in, moving slowly, and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Nice job.”

  The reporter felt it then, the difference in her attractions, the gaps between all the men she’d ever been attracted to, and then it vanished, leaving only Daryl standing knowingly in front of her.

  Too enrapt to care about who was watching, Cynthia moved into Daryl’s arms and let him hold her. She’d killed again and loved every second of it. Human contact would help bring her back from the cloud she’d put herself under when she’d been facing her own mortality.

  Only a bit surprised, Daryl wrapped his arms around her. His ears stopped ringing, stomach began settling. He was aware of Kevin’s outrage and Marc’s approval, but the feel of Cynthia in his arms was too good to miss any part of and he shut them out.

  “Thank you,” she whispered against his big chest.

  “My honor,” he rumbled, refusing to let go yet. When she didn’t pull away, Daryl felt his heart shift into a more serious rhythm, one of contentment and determination.

  “Can I feed you while they’re working on things?” he offered.

  “Yeah, my boy may eat you, if I don’t feed him soon.”

  Daryl chuckled and slid a hand to her hip. His big fingers reached half way around her waist and Cynthia groan at the feel of the heat on her skin after being in the ground for days.

  “Easy, son. I’ve got her covered.”

  Cynthia laughed and then went quiet as her stomach and headache eased.

  “Wow.”

  Daryl felt her relax and grinned wider. “He likes me. Cool.”

  She stared up at him in leery surprise. “How do you know?”

  Daryl steered her toward the tree line, where his kit had been left. “I’ve been one of the guards over Jennifer’s baby since she was born. Cute kid. Talks too much though.”

  “But she can’t…”

  Cynthia immediately began pelting Daryl with questions as he led her out of the bloodbath.

  Marc and Kevin had stopped to watch the new couple, one thinking Angela was smart and the other thinking she was unbelievably cruel.

  “Man, I never even got to be inside that!” Kevin whined lowly.

  “Maybe the fact that sex is your first grief, is why she never spread them for you in the first place,” Marc observed coolly. “Good women can sense it when they’re about to make a mistake.”

  “But I didn’t get a chance to think it over!” Kevin refuted. “It hasn’t even been a week.”

  “She spent days hiding under the ground, waiting to die. She obviously spent the time productively,” Marc pointed out coolly.

  “How can you be so unfeeling?” Kevin snarled, hurting and angry.

  “I’m not the one who gave up a dream because he couldn’t swallow enough pride to raise a fatherless child. That was your choice.”

  Marc joined Kenn on the salvage, leaving Kevin alone to smother his regret.

  3

  What am I supposed to do now? What did my orders say?

  Kendle and Tonya’s thoughts were identical, though they were miles apart. Kendle was alone, trudging toward her last known location in hopes of meeting up with any of their people. Her orders said to rescue Tonya, but the only way she could do that was with help, so she was trying to find Kenn. It was what Tonya had wanted, though Kendle was counting on Marc being with the Marine.

  Kendle trotted faster, hoping Tonya would be okay. Despite the friction, she kinda liked the redhead.

  Tonya, now wedged between uneasy soldiers as their jeep flew toward the last base camp, was being as obnoxious as she’d been ordered to.

  “So, like, how many of you guys are left? My boss said she’d kill a hundred a day once the real shit hit the fan. Guess that means in a week,
you guys could be the last soldiers here.” Tonya smiled sweetly. “That’s something to look forward to, right?”

  “Shut up,” the driver growled, but none of the others supported him. Want to or not, they were listening to her. Being sent out here had been bad, but since Donner had landed, life had become a wakeful nightmare.

  “You’ve been promised passes, or women and promotions, or maybe Donner said you’ll be with him when he’s running things. But I wonder if he can be trusted... Did you know his personal team is dead? They tried to take our den and my boss killed them all. Guess Donner won’t have the backup he’s counting on.”

  Tonya didn’t know if any of these things were fact or not. Her orders had supplied the details to use while manipulating their fears, but it hadn’t been hard to imagine it happening. Except for the last one she used. It was impossible. “The Ghost will come for me, you know? We’re close.”

  The jeep slowed as the driver turned to look at her, to judge if she was lying. The other men did the same.

  “You mean the wolf?”

  “I mean Marcus Brady, the Ghost, who you’ve been told is dead,” Tonya insisted, enjoying their stunned expressions. “He’s very…fond of me.”

  Tonya leered like a mistress would and the men groaned.

  “Man, this run just keeps getting worse,” the driver stated, easing on the gas.

  “Yeah,” the man next to him agreed. “But hey, we can switch with the next team going out and then get clear of this zone.”

  “Not sure the next zone is far enough,” the driver answered in a grumble, glaring at Tonya in the mirror.

  “Me either, come to think of it,” the passenger man agreed. “But we won’t get out of there if Red shoots off her mouth.”

  “Me?” Tonya inquired cheerfully. “I think you should dart me when we hit your camp. Then that can’t happen.”

  The men liked the idea, but didn’t trust her.

  “Why would you help us?”