“Very well,” he says. He turns his attention to Frank once again. “How long do you give us before the Animals return here?”
“Night at the earliest,” Frank says. “Barr’s blood is up, but he’s no fool. He won’t run blindly in here without a plan.”
“Good,” Byron says. “We need to be gone long before then.”
The husk that was once a home smolders behind me. Charred wood and plaster, smoke and ashes, it’s all that remains of the place we worked so hard to make our own. Most of our food was lost, as was our entire store of medical supplies. The arsenal we amassed has been reduced to a single crate of ammunition and what we carried on our person, everything else buried under layers of debris. More important is the security we lost, the feeling that we had a place where we belonged. And yet none of these come close to the biggest loss of all: that of our own people.
I feel it deep inside me, a gnawing absence as if something vital has been lost. With time, that feeling will lessen, but I know from experience it will never fade entirely. But that’s a good thing, a blessing hidden inside the pain. To grieve, one must have loved. So long as that feeling remains, those we lost will never truly have left us.
I fight to keep the notion in my head, but the grief is still too fresh, too raw to be consoled by logic. I stop fighting, letting the tears fall as Jenna steps toward her mother, a lone torch in her hand. Behind her is Trent, his face a mask of pain, eyes so red and swollen It’s a wonder he can see at all. Abigail stands by his side as confused as anything else. It breaks my heart seeing her like this, today's events so much more than someone her age should ever have to suffer. I wish I could shelter her from such things, that she didn’t have to witness this sad scene. But if my aunt loved anything in this world, it was her. It’s only right that she should be here.
Jenna leans down and kisses her mother once atop her head, tears leaking past her closed eyes. When she straightens up she looks us over. Only the family has gathered, the Animals and Byron’s people at work loading the trucks with what we will be taking with us. Her eyes settle on mine and I brace myself, half expecting to see blame in those hazel depths. Instead, there’s a softness I’ve never seen from her—a vulnerability she’s never let me witness. She holds my gaze a moment, clears her throat, and finally begins her eulogy.
“My mom was the best person I ever knew,” she says. “She was kind and brave and stronger than I could ever hope to be. Her capacity for love was...” She has to stop, a deep sob ripping through her chest. She sniffs and takes a shuddering breath before continuing. “Her capacity for love was truly amazing. It was the force that drove everything she did. It’s only fitting that her final act was made out of that love.”
Grace coughs beside me, working past a sob of her own. I put my arm around her and squeeze her tight, trying to comfort her the best I can. She sniffs and nuzzles closer and all I can do is thank God she survived.
“I hope you’re at peace, mom,” she says, her voice shaking. “I hope Ted and Heath are with you too, and that you all know how much you are missed. Watch over us...I have a feeling we’ll need it now more than ever. This isn’t goodbye. If you taught me anything, it’s that this life isn’t the end. We will see each other again. Until then, know I love you, and that I will do my best to make you proud. Rest easy, mom. I love you.”
She takes a step forward, a look of great determination upon her face. I know how hard this must be. If she asked, I would carry out this final task for her. But as much as I loved my aunt, it’s not my place. It has to be her.
She raises the torch, her hand strong and steady. For a moment, she holds the torch aloft, the cackle of the flickering flame the only sound and movement among us. And then she lets go. I find myself holding my breath as it falls, slowly, slowly, until finally, it hits the pyre. The flame spreads quickly, the torch itself lost as the bed comes ablaze. Soon even my Aunt is lost among the flames, her body turning to ashes before our eyes.
I don’t know how long we stand here, watching the flames dance and twist in cadence with the shifting wind. I only know when the time comes for us to make our leave. In truth, we should have left already, our duty to pay our final respects to Virginia keeping us here longer than is safe. And though I feel that urgency, I’m reluctant to leave this place. Things were never perfect. Hunger. Strife. Betrayal. We faced these and so much more in the months we’ve been here. At times it felt like we were only hanging on by a thread, as if at any moment it might sever and our plight would end. But always, we pulled through. We did it together.
When we leave here, it will no longer just be us. We will no longer have the comfort of being surrounded by those you love and trust. Everything will change. I turn toward Lauren who meets my eyes expectantly. I once told her everything I wanted in this life was reflected in her eyes. So long as I draw breath, I won’t stop fighting till I make that a reality. She tilts her head slightly and I nod my understanding. It’s time.
With one last glance at the burning pyre, I turn and take that first step forward, Lauren and Grace by my side. Wordlessly, the others follow. Emily. Leon. Felix. My mother and father. Everyone I hold dear in this world with me as we travel forth into the unknown. Like all such journeys, there is fear and uncertainty among us. I feel it myself—the same fear which gripped me the day this all started. I didn’t know what lay ahead of me then either. All I knew was that as dark as the prospect looked, I didn’t face that darkness alone. I had those I love to help guide me through. I have that still. So long as I do, I can withstand whatever this world has to throw at me.
Epilogue
I sit alone, gripped in an icy fury the likes of which I’ve never felt before. It fills every part of me—in the air I breathe into my lungs and the blood flowing through my veins. I breathe deep, the smell of smoke and gasoline stinging my nostrils, reminding me. The flames are gone, but the damage has been done. Twice now we’ve been attacked on our own ground. After the first incident, I saw to our security arrangements myself. I doubled the patrols, assigned more men to the entrances. I ordered the fortifications along the lower levels be strengthened tenfold and had sniper nests built on the top floor which were to be manned at all times. The place turned into a fortress, and I felt confident no party could breach it. But for all my planning, what I did not anticipate was an attack from within.
Frank Chavez’s face flashes across my mind and the icy fury turns into a murderous rage. Everything that happened tonight stems back to him. My eyes survey the body lying atop the table. My brother looks peaceful in death. Ironic. If there is such a place as hell, he’s there as surely as I’ll be when my own time comes. He was a bastard, yes. But he was my brother all the same. I stare long and hard, searing the image of his slit throat and blood-drenched shirt into my memory. He will be avenged. Frank will beg for such a death by the time I’ve finished with him. They all will.
“Sir?” The voice is hesitant, fearful. I turn toward the soldier standing at the door, his unease readily apparent.
“What?” I ask, irritated. I made it clear that I was not be disturbed unless absolutely necessary.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the soldier says. “But I found this as I was clearing out the trucks.” He holds out the family photo Mitch gave us as proof of his story He points to Morgan. “I recognize him. Matador brought him in yesterday after the raid.”
I propel to my feet, my pulse doubling with anticipation. “You’re sure?” I ask. “Is he accounted for?”
“No, sir,” the man says. “I checked myself. He must have escaped during the fire.”
I wrench my chair off the ground and slam it against the wall, my rage finally boiling over. It breaks apart in my hands and I throw it across the room in disgust. Morgan was here, under my very nose. He had a part in this. I feel it in my bones. Somehow, he and Frank are connected. It’s too much for it to be mere coincidence.
“Sir?”
I almost forgot the soldier was here, consumed as I am in my h
ate. He blanches as I turn to him, his words tripping over one another.
“I’m s-sorry, sir,” he says. “We will, of course, continue the search, and I will let you know immediately if he is apprehended. But you should know we have caught another man. He isn’t in the picture, but he was part of the same group Matador brought in. He might—”
“Bring me to him,” I bark, already level with the soldier. He flinches out of my way and hurries to do my bidding.
“Y-yes, sir!”
He leads me down the stairwell and out into the main lobby of the hotel. My soldiers have the place cordoned off, the captured grunts on the floor bound hand and foot.
“That’s him, sir,” he says, pointing to the young man at our feet. The man stirs at being addressed. His lip is busted. His nose, broken. Clearly, he put up a fight. He stares up at me, eyes narrowed in hate. I match it, my anger beyond anything this man has ever felt before. I squat down so we’re at eye level.
“Tell me everything you know about this man.” I hold out the picture and point to Morgan. He surveys it briefly before glaring back up at me.
“Fuck you,” he says and spits at my feet.
I smile. Finally, I have an outlet to channel my rage. I snatch the crucifix hanging around his neck and hold it out to him.
“You can pray,” I say. “But know there is no saving you from me.” I straighten up and turn to a pair of soldiers. “Bring him. There is work to be done.”
Acknowledgments
It has been said that to write well, you must write what you know. True, I know nothing of living in a post-EMP world. I have never faced starvation, or been hunted by men out for my blood, or been forced into a situation where it’s either kill or be killed. The burdens my characters carry have never been placed upon my shoulders. But for everything in this book that I do not know, the one thing I do is the immeasurable power of a family’s love. Above all else, it is the inspiration behind my writing.
Thank you to those who fill my heart with such love. To my mother who played Simple Man for me as a child and told me to listen to the wisdom in the lyrics. I am following my heart and doing something I love and understand. To my father who taught me that anything great in this life must be earned, and to take the time to “fine-tune” my work. To my sisters, nieces, and nephews, who literally give me a reason to laugh and smile every single day. Gallaghers for life, lol.
And of course, thank you to the reader. It’s still surreal to me that so many of you actually like what I have written. Your kind words, both in person and online mean more than I can say. I look forward to continuing this journey with you into book 3.
Lastly, if you could please leave a review on Amazon I would greatly appreciate it. They help self-published writers such as myself immensely. Thank you.
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