by Stone, Kyla
56
Noah
Day Eight
“This is not my first choice, nor my second,” Rosamond said gravely.
She sat on a tall stool in the living room, the rest of the council arranged around the living room. Noah and Julian sat on the couch next to Hayes. Dave Harris stood on the other side of him, next to Annette King and Mike Duncan.
A stranger sat on the stool in front of the island beside the superintendent. A big white guy wearing green camo fatigues with SUTTER emblazoned across the patch over the left side of his chest, a US MILITIA patch over his right, an AK-47 slung over one shoulder.
He looked to be about six-foot-three and two hundred and fifty pounds, a brute of a man, all bulging thighs and arms. He had a barrel chest, a thick neck, a bald shiny head, and pale blue eyes sunken into his fleshy face.
Mattias Sutter of the Volunteer Militia Brigade of Southwest Michigan sat still and silent, unmoving, his eyes slowly sweeping the room, taking everything in.
Noah felt the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rise slightly. The man hadn’t said a word, and he was already unnerving.
“My heart is broken by the atrocity that happened last night,” Rosamond continued. “Utterly broken. Forty-seven souls. Eighteen of them children. Eighteen! They went to school with us, shopped with us. They were our coworkers and friends. It is unconscionable. We must do everything in our power—everything!—to prevent this from happening again.”
Tears glistened in the corners of her red-rimmed eyes. “None of us were expecting this. No one was prepared. The power went out, and we thought things could continue much like they had been. But we were wrong. We can’t do the same things we used to do because our world is changing on us, and not for the better.
“I don’t know how long it’ll take for the power to be restored. Six months. Maybe six years. If we are going to survive until then, we must change. We must adapt. Otherwise, it is those willing to be more brutal and savage than we are who will survive, not us. And I will not see that happen. I will not allow it to happen in Fall Creek.”
Rosamond took a breath, seeming to compose herself, and gazed around the room. “With that being said, I took the liberty of inviting Mattias Sutter here to speak with you. He has agreed to marshal the fifty-three men under his command to join the Fall Creek Police Department in a raid on the Carter compound tomorrow at dawn. They will help us bring Ray Shultz and the Carter brothers to justice. For we demand justice. And we will not rest until we get it.”
The room filled with low, tense murmurs. Sorrow, anxiety, and fear strained every face. And anger. Everyone was simultaneously terrified and outraged.
Several council members wept openly. Chief Briggs looked grim and shaken. Annette’s face was pinched and white. Even Darryl Wiggins slumped in his seat, his hair mussed, his face unshaven, looking appropriately devastated.
Everyone knew a victim. Everyone was affected by this tragedy.
Mike Duncan’s neighbor. Jose Reynoso’s sister-in-law. A half-dozen of Annette King’s students and former students. Two of Dave Farris’s employees.
The mood of the council had shifted since their last meeting only a few days ago. Their sense of security had just been ripped out from under them.
The idea of safety had disappeared the moment the EMP hit, but people were finally starting to understand how drastically everything had changed.
“We’re not here to take over.” Sutter’s voice was quiet but commanding. He had an air of authority about him, a natural confidence. “We’re not here to trample on anyone’s toes. We want to help. And yes, I won’t lie. A warm house with electricity and hot showers is a mighty fine temptation. We’re getting something out of this, too. But that will not prevent us from working together in a symbiotic relationship.
“We are ready and willing to put our lives on the line to protect the fine people of Fall Creek. We’ll be setting up and manning roadblocks into and out of town starting tomorrow. You’ve been lucky thus far since you’re small and off the highway. We’re going to make this town safe. Starting with wreaking vengeance upon a bunch of mass murderers.”
Annette King nodded in weary resignation. “We have to be safe.”
“We can’t allow anything like this to happen again,” Dave Farris said.
“Rosamond was right all along,” Wiggins said darkly. “We should have voted her way last time, and we sure as hell better do it now.”
Noah rose to his feet. “I agree.”
Everyone quieted. They all watched him, listening intently. Everyone knew he’d worked the Crossway Church massacre. Everyone knew Milo Sheridan was one of the only survivors.
“The superintendent is right. The world is changing on us, and we must be ready to change with it. We’re not only struggling to survive the elements, to provide food and shelter for our loved ones, but we’re also facing threats like we’ve never encountered.
“I think we can all agree that this has been the longest week of our lives. The stores are running dangerously low. Pantries are empty. People will start starving. They’ll see their kids going hungry, and what will they do? We have to make sure we can protect ourselves from that contingency.”
He took a breath, thought of Milo. “For me, I’m willing to do anything for my son. Anything. I think we’d all do the same. If that means welcoming the Volunteer Militia Brigade as a support to local law enforcement, then that’s what I’m prepared to do.”
Mattias Sutter tilted his chin at Noah in acknowledgment.
“Thank you, Officer Sheridan,” Rosamond said. “He’s said everything I would say to you, and better.”
“We do what we have to do,” Wiggins said imperiously. “Whatever it takes.”
“We have to protect the town,” Annette said, her voice hoarse.
“I think we’re ready for a vote.” Rosamond clasped her hands together in front of her stomach. “What say you?”
In only a few seconds, the vote was completed. A quick show of hands showed the majority in favor of the militia moving in.
Only Chief Briggs kept his hands in his lap, his expression tense.
“And the yeas have it.” There was no trace of victory or excitement in her voice—only her usual calm, measured tone. “Thank you, everyone. And thank you, Mattias.”
Noah squelched his own anxiety. The militia would keep Fall Creek safe. They would keep Milo safe.
In the end, wasn’t that what mattered?
“Tomorrow, this will all be over,” Rosamond said. “We will mourn our dead, but we will be secure. We can put our children to sleep with the confidence that they will wake in the morning, safe and protected. We have an arduous task before us, but the people of Fall Creek are made of tough stock. We will survive. And we will rebuild. We will make it through this!”
“Here, here,” Wiggins said.
The others nodded.
Rosamond cleared her throat and surveyed the council. She waited until all eyes were on her. Until it was so silent you could hear a pin drop.
“You are family to me. Each one of you. I hope you know that.” She smiled that warm, grandmotherly smile, tears still shimmering in her eyes. “We have thirty empty homes in Winter Haven. We cannot let such a valuable resource go to waste. And each of you—the leaders of this community, right here in this room—those homes are for you and your families. For all that you’ve sacrificed and will sacrifice to keep this town safe and united, you deserve it.”
Everyone rose to their feet, broke into applause. Their weary faces shone with grief and fear and worry, but also hope. They were desperate for it.
From the back of the room, Chief Briggs got up silently and moved to the front door. He pulled his coat off the hook, tugged on his boots, and left without saying a word.
Rosamond barely glanced at Briggs as the door shut behind him. The corner of her mouth twitched. Noah knew her well enough to know what she was thinking. She had the council. They were with her all the way. She didn
’t need the police chief’s support, not this time.
Noah clapped along with everyone else. Still, he couldn’t erase the unease tangling in his belly. He couldn’t get Bishop’s words out of his head.
This feeling, deep in his gut. One he loathed but couldn’t escape.
That whatever this was, it wouldn’t end with the death of Ray Shultz and the Carter brothers.
This was far from over.
57
Noah
Day Eight
That night, Noah left Milo with the Sinclairs.
He was drained, spent, his soul weary, but he couldn’t rest. Any sleep he sought would be full of nightmares, of blood-drenched pews, Daphne and Chloe and Juniper calling out to him, plaintive ghosts demanding to know why they were dead, why he hadn’t protected them.
Instead of sleeping, he took the Kawasaki, topped it off with a jerrycan stashed in Rosamond’s garage, and hooked it up to one of the large trailers Julian had borrowed from the townspeople. He packed a shovel, a tarp, and a long, rectangular sled he’d also found in the garage.
He headed north out of Fall Creek toward Kalamazoo via Old 31 and I-94. The temperature hovered well below zero. Darkness encroached on every side.
Above him the sky was immense, flooded with stars. They’d never felt so bright. Sharp splinters of ice scattered across black velvet. The moon was full and round and reflected blue light off the unbroken snow.
He forced himself to focus straight ahead. The guard rails had disappeared beneath massive snowdrifts. Only the humps of snow smothering the abandoned vehicles and occasional road signs poking out of the endless field of white alerted him to the location of the road.
The highway wasn’t plowed. Hadn’t been in the last eight days. Since the event. Black Christmas, people were calling it. He didn’t care what it was called.
When he reached Bittersweet Ski Resort, he pulled into the parking lot, switched off the snowmobile, and transferred the shovel, tarp, and rope to the sled. He removed his helmet and left it with the machine. He flicked on the headlamp he’d brought and started walking.
The brutal cold tunneled straight through his gear. His eyebrows and eyelashes felt frozen. His movements already stiff and awkward, but he kept moving.
The burned and blackened husk of the lodge loomed out of the darkness. He veered around it. The snow muted the ugliness, just like it muted sound. The silence was loud in his ears. His breath escaped his mouth in a pale white mist.
He felt like the only human being alive for miles. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.
He liked people. Needed them around. He’d never been great at alone. Too many dark thoughts and haunting memories to wriggle inside his brain and take up residence.
He’d made a promise. He’d promised Quinn. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t a great man. He failed. He was flawed. He’d made too many mistakes to count. Mistakes that had cost lives.
But he loved his son. And he was a man of his word. He hoped it would be enough.
Pulling the sled burdened with supplies behind him, Noah began the long, arduous trek to the top of Rocket Launcher run.
He climbed. And climbed. Plowing doggedly through thigh-deep snow, his boots breaking through the crust, his breath ragged, his lungs burning with cold fire.
Once he’d nearly reached the top of the hill, it wasn’t hard to find their chairlift.
He’d had hours to memorize the particular shapes of the trees, the way the slope veered sharply to the left just past that jutting stump. The break in the red fencing he and Quinn had used to rescue Milo and Phoebe.
He counted the chairlifts between the towers, found the correct ones. The chairlifts were empty. He sighed with relief, something loosening inside his chest. The blizzard must have blown the old man’s body down.
He hadn’t known how he would get the body from the chairlift. He just knew he had to come up here. He had to try.
He took the shovel out of the sled and started digging through the deep snowdrifts. Noah didn’t stop to rest until he’d found and uncovered them both—Brock Mason and Dương Văn Dũng, Quinn’s grandfather.
He stared at the bodies with a pang.
He was law enforcement. He should’ve done a better job. He should have saved them. Just like he should’ve saved the victims in the Crossway massacre. He should’ve been smarter, better, faster. Some cop he was turning out to be.
He couldn’t even protect his son. Couldn’t protect his best friend’s family.
He didn’t cry. His face was too frozen to cry.
His muscles straining, groaning and huffing from the effort, he rolled each stiff, ice-covered body into a tarp, loaded them onto the sled, and bound them in place with the rope.
The return trip would be more difficult than the ascent. The path before him would only become more difficult, in more ways than one. He understood that now.
Surviving this new EMP-ravaged world would demand everything from him. And then it would demand more.
Whatever trials and hardships he’d already endured would be nothing compared to what lay ahead.
But he would do it. He had no choice.
“I’ll do whatever I have to,” Noah vowed aloud, speaking into the endless icy silence. “Whatever it takes.”
The End
I hope you enjoyed Edge of Madness! Don’t miss book #3, Edge of Darkness!
A world without power grows cold and deadly…
Liam and Hannah continue their dangerous journey, but their every step is dogged by a deadly adversary. Hunted and exhausted, getting home may be an impossible task.
In Fall Creek, Noah struggles to protect his son and his friends. With the town running out of food and fuel, and the cold as brutal as ever, they're forced to make compromises that may place them in even greater danger...
Preorder the explosive third book in the Edge of Collapse series on Amazon HERE.
If you haven’t read the thrilling prequel, Chaos Rising, you need to!
You can read it for free simply by joining my exclusive VIP mailing list (I hate spam and only email 1-2 times a month), and I’ll send you a copy as a thank you.
As a VIP member, you’ll have first access to exclusive sales, audiobook and ebook freebies, and all my new releases. You’ll also receive two of my books for free!
Join my VIP list HERE to get Chaos Rising now.
Liam will have to risk everything to save the ones he loves, but he may be too late this time…
Join HERE! You can unsubscribe at any time.
Keep reading after the “About the Author” section for a preview of No Safe Haven. It’s available in ebook, paperback, and free in Kindle Unlimited.
After a pandemic ravages the world, Raven finds refuge at her parents’ wildlife sanctuary. She thinks she safe, until human predators threaten to take everything she has…
Get it HERE.
Author’s Note
I hope you enjoyed Edge of Madness! I hope you weren’t too upset that Liam, Hannah, and Ghost were missing from this part of the story.
They will be in book #3, Edge of Darkness, I promise!
When I tried to combine the two main storylines together in the first book, it just didn’t work. Hannah and Liam needed to tell their beginning uninterrupted. Noah and Quinn wanted their own book, too. Sometimes, the story dictates the form.
While the setting of Southwest Michigan and the surrounding towns are real, Fall Creek is my own invention. Bittersweet Ski Resort is a real place, but I added the Rocket Launcher ski run—and Milo’s favorite giant peanut butter cookies.
The task of safeguarding an entire town in desperate need of pretty much everything is a challenge for both the characters and the author. I don’t envy Noah the arduous task ahead of him!
I hope you’ll continue to follow Noah, Quinn, and Milo as well as Hannah, Liam, and Ghost on their journey throughout the Edge of Collapse series.
Thank you for reading!
Acknowledgments
Thanks to my readers for their excellent character names! Please do not judge these wonderful people based on the actions of the characters named after them in this book. I took their names only and made the characters do what I wanted, as is an author’s prerogative.
To Rachel Watts Mitchell for Brock.
To Mike Smalley for Phoebe.
Chris Doenges for lending his name to the weed-smoking liftie.
Annette King Cairl, the dedicated principal of Fall Creek High School.
Tina Gundy, the adorable Fall Creek mechanic.
Dave Farris as the ham radio guy.
Jose Jaime Reynoso as a Fall Creek police officer.
Robert Vinson as the local pharmacist.
Bonnie Smith for the name “Maxine Hammond” a local of Fall Creek.
Oren Truitt, Samantha Perez, and Clint Moll as part-time police officers.
And Paul Eastley, local farmer.
Thank you so much to my awesome, amazing, and fantastic BETA readers: Fred Oelrich, Melva Metivier, Wmh Cheryl, Annette Cairl, Jessica Burland, Sally Shupe, Becca and Brendan Cross, Robert Odell, and to George Hall for his keen eye and military expertise.
To Mike Smalley for Noah’s cop skills.
To Angela Martignetti Baez for patiently answering all my questions in regards to Milo’s Addison’s Disease. Any mistakes are my own.