Shelter: the trilogy

By Allyson Young and Peri Elizabeth Scott

Addison Longwood survived the plague that struck down almost everyone around her. She survived the hazardous trek into the countryside to find shelter within a group of like-minded individuals led by a man she can actually respect. Settled and contributing, she allows herself a sense of hope.

From the remaining military, Captain Jesse Forbes is charged with locating survivors in order to rebuild the country. His initial impression of Addison's band isn't positive and he sets his sights on the young woman in order to infiltrate, and assess her leader—the end justifying the means, or so he assures himself.  

His effort at gathering intel blows up in his face, and given Addison's history, Jesse knows she'll never offer him a second chance. Working together against a common foe is going to be torture in more ways than one.

The plague that decimated the population has left another legacy and he has been ordered to 'encourage' Shelter's women to move to the military base in order to begin repopulating the country—something Addy will fight tooth and nail.

But there are far greater dangers lurking, threatening the very existence of the survivors. Alliances are forged—and tested. Betrayal cuts deep, lives are lost and others changed forever. Good guys and bad guys wear camo.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allyson Young
• Release date: Jul 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393882626

Book preview

Prologue

The world ended, not with a bang, but with a sniffle. Okay, with more like a gut-wrenching, hacking cough, and a raging fever, but the flu that swept the globe devastated over ninety-seven percent of the world’s population.

It was compared not to SARS or H1N1, but more like the Spanish Flu of 1918—according to those left standing in the medical community during the initial stages. People sickened, took to their beds, and died. There was no warning, no treatment, and no recourse. Almost anyone and everyone became a victim. Men, women, and children, elderly, young, sick, and healthy. Those who became ill and recovered were few and far between and the lucky few who were immune came to regret it.

They fled the highly contagious cities, only to find the same eventual devastation in the countryside. Without the personnel to run the essentials, power failed and services toppled one by one in a bizarre domino effect. Before and after, the survivors were decimated by paranoid world leaders who issued missile launches. And then they died by accidents, by different, sometimes common, yet deadly illnesses, by food poisoning, nuclear plant failure—and finally, by predation. Mostly by their fellow man.

Nothing to say only the good guys survived...

Chapter One

Addison rocked her pelvis ever so slightly, seeking a tad more comfort on the hard ground. Better situated, she peered through the scope of her Winchester, blinking once to focus on the figures steadily working their way up the mountain.

The trees were sparse on this side of the slope, something to do with prevailing winds, according to their resident scientist, but while Addy respected Milton’s acumen, she was simply grateful for the lack of cover below. It meant no one could easily sneak up on their camp.

To her right, she knew Felix was hunkered down in much the same position she’d taken, and Butch held fast on her left. They were among the camp’s best snipers, charged with taking out the forerunners of any attack, mitigating the numbers to the extent where the rest of the defenders could mop up the remainder.

About half a klick back, several small units of the camp’s soldiers—not that there were many—were strategically staged to take advantage of both the terrain and the man traps scattered about to help impede anyone getting past the snipers. But Addy knew it wouldn’t come to that this time, not unless there was a much larger force held in abeyance. And she trusted the spotters to alert them in that event.

The individuals climbing toward them—and their camp—were clearly no strangers to an assault. They leapfrogged past one another, using the sparse cover effectively, but their skills weren’t going to help. There weren’t enough of them. As soon as they were in range, Addy and her companions would pick them off one by one before they could do much more than return a few shots. Gone were the days where anybody got the benefit of the doubt. These folks had ignored the crude warning signs posted at the bottom of the mountain slope. That meant their intent was nefarious and they would pay in blood.

She didn’t like it but had long since resigned herself to the ways of the new world order, the new beginning. You protected what you held dear, and the camp was everything to her—and others. More of a settlement, if lightly populated. Newcomers were welcome but only if they announced their peaceful intent and scaled the slope unarmed. Sneaking up on what was a bastion today didn’t qualify.

A fly buzzed lazily around her head and she ignored it, only glad it wasn’t a wasp. She’d set up once, nearly on top of a yellow jacket nest, and a faint shiver overtook her at the painful memory. She’d been stung repeatedly until the insects backed off because of the absolute stillness of her body, only to return when the gunfire sounded. Thank the Mother she wasn’t allergic. And that the skirmish had been over quick.

The obvious leader of the scouting party paused, his head tipped back, turning slowly from side to side as he scanned the surroundings. She held her breath when his stare seemed to fix on her position, even knowing he couldn’t see her and examined his face through the scope.

He looked to be in his mid-to-late-twenties, several years older than her. The blond hair beneath his cap clung in curling hanks to his head, and she took note of his strong features. Handsome, in a craggy sort of way, and obviously a survivor, like herself. She experienced a flicker of regret at the need to take him out. But they had their orders, and Mitchell had been clear, making that tough decision—nobody got past the base of the mountain unless they made their peaceful intentions clear, not any longer. Not after that one unexpected assault. And these guys, all six of them, were armed to the teeth.

Semi-automatic weapons, unlike her bolt action rifle, were wielded as an extension of their bodies. She spotted holsters of a size that guaranteed a handgun suited for a man’s stronger hands, and sheaths for what were likely tactical knives. And she could swear she saw the rounded bulbs of hand grenades attached to one interloper’s belt. Who knew what was in their rucksacks?

All that weaponry would be spoils for the camp, once the owners were put down. She wished they’d asked to parlay instead but were clearly climbing with different intent—infiltrate and assess. Wreak havoc and retreat. Soften for possible backup forces. None of which was acceptable. It had been months since the last attempt, but memories like that didn’t fade.

As if he read her mind, the man in her sights carefully laid down his long gun and reached into his jacket. He drew out a billow of fabric. Grimy, but white fabric. Her belly clenched and her thoughts tumbled over one another. She didn’t have the authority to call the mission off at this late date.

Risking a glance toward Felix, she thought she caught a glimpse of his slight head shake, a mere rustle of the shrubbery he’d hidden within. Was that denial or regret?

Wishing she could read minds, or at the very least have an opportunity to use the precious walkie-talkie without giving away their positions, she watched as the blond guy unfurled the white cloth and shook it wide. It appeared to capture all the available light and Addy’s finger twitched inside the trigger guard. Surely, risking a single click on the handheld radio to signal Butch wouldn’t be misplaced... Except that would mean moving, taking a hand off of her rifle, and it went against training.

All three of them were disciplined, despite their young age and relative lack of experience, and for sure, she and Butch had neither served nor used a weapon against another human being until the apocalypse. After then, everyone learned to protect themselves—or died.

Knowing Butch followed Mitchell’s reluctant decrees blindly, and wouldn’t consider a late parlay request, she made her decision. A click wouldn’t deter Butch anyhow. She only hoped he wouldn’t open fire with her out in the open.

Rolling to one side, she came to her feet in a move she’d practiced over and over, never thinking to need it in this situation. Rather, it was to allow her to get the hell up and run in the event stealth wasn’t an option. Certain both her fellow defenders would remain concealed and provide cover, she still held her own weapon where she could easily add suppression fire, albeit choppily. Damn single shots. It did little to thaw the ice in her veins.

The men below froze in place, figures in a weird tableau that reminded her of those cheap action figures her little brother played with before— She shut that memory down without another thought, and stared down the mountain, now in full view of those climbing it.

I would appreciate an audience with Mitchell Stone. A steady, confident tone sounded clearly through the morning air.

Weapons on the ground, on your knees, hands laced behind your head.

Butch snorted audibly, and she realized she’d sounded like one of those police reality shows so popular before the epidemic. Whatever. The men on the side of the slope obeyed her edict even if reluctance and caution were displayed in their every move.

Asserting his authority in the chain of command, Butch rose to his feet, his eyes narrowing as his glare briefly seared her. He called out to the men on the slope. You. With the white flag. Speak up.

Ignoring his silent condemnation, she focused on the interlopers. Even with the distance between them, Addy took note of the width of the blond man’s shoulders and the strong line of his throat as he faced her colleague. Curious, because she wasn’t terribly interested in the opposite sex other than to assess their intentions, abilities, and possible risk.

She turned her attention to checking out the other interlopers, carefully watching for any untoward movement, alternately scanning the distance for possible reinforcements, keeping one ear open for warnings from the spotters. The intruders were big men, with the exception of one, and obviously fit. The very way they held themselves screamed training.

No longer hidden, she and her fellow snipers were outnumbered, and if she’d made a bad choice, she and Butch would be the first to go down. Felix might or might not escape to update Mitchell on her ill-considered action. At least the sound of gunfire would alert the backup units. And the sentries would be watching. Her anxiety spiked.

We’re looking to join up, the blond man said. Heard rumors on the road about this encampment and Stone’s way of running things. You might say it appeals to the likes of us.

And what exactly might that be?

Addy winced at the snark in Butch’s tone, recognizing it as a fit of pique. A loyal supporter of Mitchell’s, he indeed followed orders without question but rarely thought for himself. She wondered if she was of the same ilk in that they were both on sniper duty, expected to essentially kill anyone invading, without question. Well, today she supposed the comparison had changed and for good or bad would likely soon be revealed.

Butch lifted a hand, forestalling any reply. Save it. You can make your case to the man himself. Now, do as I say.

Felix remained concealed while she and Butch organized the six intruders into a formation that guaranteed the best opportunity to cover them and avoid any surprises, first insisting they divest themselves of everything that constituted a weapon. Their ability to surge to their feet without the aid of their hands impressed her. Spread out thinly, with their fingers locked behind their heads, she motioned them in the direction of the camp.

What about our weapons? The big blond stared at her, his eyes shielded by aviator style sunglasses.

Someone’ll pick ’em up. Deliver to you later—if you’ll need ’em again. Butch enforced his lead, his babyish face belying the tough words, though he, too, was a big guy. She wished she hadn’t cast a glance toward Felix’s blind.

The blond guy hadn’t missed her ill-advised action either, and she tensed, subtly bringing her weapon to bear. If they rushed her and Butch, a single shot rifle wouldn’t be enough protection. And now they knew where backup was situated. Damn it. What the hell was wrong with her to second-guess orders?

You’re first, she said, keeping her voice level and her tone factual. Move it.

To her carefully masked relief, they left their gear and made no threatening moves. Gaining the crest, the six men then marched in single file with her and Butch moving in their distant wake, weapons trained on them. She figured now she could take out two, maybe three if they turned on her and her colleague, and forced herself to quit worrying. Being alert was one thing. Obsessing over her decision was another. Besides, Felix was now in a far better position to cover their flank.

In a short period of time—that seemed to last forever—a few of the other fighters emerged from cover, led by Mitchell’s second, Gabriel, and Butch swung around the captives to fill him in on what had transpired. Addy said nothing, watching the blond guy instead. He didn’t relax one iota but appeared to listen intently and study the newly arrived men—and women. It was probably no accident that the guys with him subtly adjusted their stance and seemed to loom at his back.

Gabe waved Butch away, his bulky form exuding confidence, and motioned the band of six along.

We’re to confiscate up the weapons and gear, Butch said as he stomped past her.

She wouldn’t apologize, but instead fell in behind him, picking her way back toward their original station. Hoping to be in on the questioning, she accepted her punishment—her fellow sniper had doubtless dropped a word in Gabe’s ear.

Pain in the ass, he muttered, the complaint floating in his wake.

Would you have preferred to kill them? Bury them below like the others and with that white flag on our minds?

Stumbling to a halt, he whirled on her. We had our orders.

So they didn’t show the flag at our imposed point. But they showed it.

Mitchell said, he blustered, no exceptions. And they were armed. The camp’s safety is our first priority.

And so it should be. I haven’t forgotten, Butch. She brushed past him, not interested in a futile argument. But I’m not murdering anyone who shows the inclination to parlay.

His hot breath huffed over her shoulder. And I say we follow the rules.

If Mitchell says I broke them, I’ll take the consequences.

Like that’ll be anything. You and Stone...

She could hear the smirk in his voice and itched to smack it off his face. Turning, she said, What about me and Stone?

You’re his pet. Or something. Don’t matter. I’m not drawing sniper duty with you again.

Whatever. For a moment, she sensed she’d pushed Butch too far. His face flushed, his nostrils flaring even as his brows drew together. Women weren’t automatically deemed the weaker sex in Mitchell Stone’s enclave, even after the apocalypse, but the guy was the epitome of chauvinism. Even misogyny.

Sidestepping, she stilled as he raised his rifle, stock forward. She stared him down and probably saved herself from being cold-cocked. A nasty gleam shone in his spit-pale eyes, but he visibly got himself under control, features smoothing out and his lips losing a snarl. Bitch.

Knowing she’d be watching her back around him from here on in, she decided not to pour fuel on that particular fire. Instead, she nodded as if to commend him on his assessment—and maybe she really did. Bitch wasn’t far off the mark, though she’d prefer Alpha Bitch.

Seeing she wasn’t going to get into it, he stalked away, past where Felix was examining a weapon left behind. She joined the other sniper and stared down at a knife in a scabbard. Lots of them carried knives, useful for many things, but not this type, a true weapon if she ever saw one.

I’m heading further down. See if they left a cache, Felix said, his stare following Butch as the other man grabbed the remaining weapons.

Checking for a cache had been her thought, but she nodded. Good idea.

You thought of it, he retorted, a half smile softening his thin face. But you and Butch should haul these back. And have a talk. He’s thinking you undermined him.

Already had that talk. There’s no meeting of the minds, Felix. He thinks I disobeyed Stone’s orders. She didn’t share Butch’s intent to smack her down—or worse.

Felix snorted but spoke softly. He’s a fucking puppet, Addy. I mean, I get it. Cut and dried worked best ’cause we learned a lesson. None of us knew what the hell was going to happen next, other than there were those who wanted what we had, so we followed orders from someone who knows what he’s doing. But c’mon. Common sense should prevail. I don’t like killing for the sake of it.

And Butch did. Or at least, he didn’t mind it. Her belly clenched. For sure she’d be watching her back. There’s few enough of us left, Felix. Maybe we can bring it up at the next hall meeting. People have to know to speak up sooner when they’re coming here. I mean, those guys were armed to the teeth.

They were. But they parlayed in the end and followed your orders. Still, you share your thoughts with Stone.

Because she had the great man’s ear? Was close to him, kind of like in the inner circle? She’d never abuse that—she didn’t think, unless he asked. And she might have slipped in his esteem today. Better coming up at a meeting. We can get a feeling about how the others think.

He snorted a laugh. That sounds political, girl.

She tensed and stared at him.

Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Addy. I’m a sniper, remember? I watch and pay attention. That’s why Stone likes you close. You’re an asset. Like his up and coming head of National Security.

It was her turn to laugh, something she did rarely. She didn’t have a title, merely contributed if she could because she saw into most people and was rarely wrong. Except she wasn’t involved in the meeting of minds happening right about now back at camp. She dismissed the hint of resentment at being out on the mountain rather than in attendance. Right. And that’s why I’m on sniper duty with you, and psycho out there.

Everybody needs seasoning. You’re learning. Experience is important.

She’d known how bright Felix was, older than her and Butch, tight-lipped about his past but also an ... asset.

She said, I’ll do the cache search. You head back with Butch. Maybe you can wow him with your insights, but for God’s sake, don’t champion me. He’ll kill you.

It’d have to be more than someone like that to take me out, girl. Gathering up the weapons closest to him and shouldering the rucksacks, he nodded. See you later.

She gave Butch a wide berth as she worked her way down the mountain past the original area where the sentries on the crest first spotted the interlopers. He ignored her, still intent on examining the gear left behind, rifling through the rucksacks. She hoped he hadn’t overheard her and Felix, and then dismissed her concern. He was the type to never let things go, so there was no point in worrying about it. There would be a face to face, probably in the near future and she only hoped she’d survive it.

Something deep inside her flexed and snarled. She’d survived thus far. And not merely the plague, as it had come to be termed. Perhaps she should give some thought to dealing with Butch, a preemptive strike of sorts. With a mental shrug, she turned her attention to the task at hand.

It took her a long time, carefully checking every possible place that additional weapons or anything else could have been stored—hidden—at the base of the slope. What she did find scared the crap out of her and she paid careful attention to her surroundings, even knowing the spotters were keeping an eye out. Except they hadn’t seen whoever had taken down the signs... Signs relaying the clear message to cite friendly intent or die... Her belly clenched at the implication and she wanted to run up the mountain and share that news with Mitchell.

But she had an immediate job to do, so she did it, moving as quietly as possible and staying alert. Those six men would likely raise the point and she could confirm it, being a trusted source. She sucked in another gulp of air and sighed it in out in relief that the white flag had been shown, putting her belief in Mitchell’s interrogation skills. Friend or Foe? To be determined but no blood on her hands this time.

Covering nearly a half mile in either direction, she conceded defeat when the shadows began to lengthen and the foliage thickened to the point of being impenetrable. If anything had been left behind for retrieval later, she couldn’t find it, even looking among the mounds in the sad, little graveyard. She wondered if those men had torn up the signs themselves, except it didn’t make sense. Or maybe it did—to them.

She’d also passed out of radio distance, unable to raise the lookouts on the crest. Running into another armed party would spoil her entire day, but she’d willingly taken the risk, deeming it important. She hustled back and began the climb.

Trusting to being alerted should anyone come behind her, she thought about what Felix had said. Not about Butch. She’d figured that out. But was she seen by most as an asset in Mitchell Stone’s circle when he took her under his wing after their rather inauspicious initial meeting?

By the time she reached the top, she’d decided it didn’t matter about anyone else’s opinion but Mitchell’s—and maybe her own. It wasn’t out of arrogance or conceit. She’d simply brought some skills Mitchell had recognized to the table and she was both proud and happy she could contribute. Lord knew she hadn’t been appreciated or seen worthy of anything other than what her stepfather could sell or trade her for, before.

And if the other tasks their leader assigned were indeed seasoning her, as Felix inferred, she’d take them on. Gladly. She’d rather not be in trouble with him, however. So far, he was the true father figure she’d never had and some dormant instinct had awoken in her, the desire to please him, and the need for praise.

Consulting the map in her head, she navigated the manmade pitfalls and then reached the camp, struck, as always, by how orderly it was laid out. A mixture of tents and log structures, there was no clear sight line to the command building or the pseudo town hall where regular community meetings were held. Rather, everything was staggered and with a purpose to deter any additional assault, to slow it down while allowing escape. If it ever came to that.

Addy didn’t think it would. Mitchell was too smart, witness the positioning of said camp, the outlooks, the sentries, the trained troops, and the traps. However, the rumors of that other group abounded, one that didn’t give a nod to democracy but ran along the lines of a brutal cartel. And if that group was large enough and determined enough to want to prevail as the only one in their territory... To take what was out there...

She shuddered at the thought. The apocalypse had been terrible, no dispute there, and her life before had been no picnic. Her entire being had cried out for shelter then and now, and this motley grouping of structures signified exactly that, a palace of shelter in her mind. And that of others. She put away her worry, for now, denial not only a river someplace in Egypt. An Egypt that likely no longer existed.

You’re back. Felix emerged from the shadows now blanketing one of the cabins on the outskirts. Did you find anything?

Her heart jumped and she nearly brought her weapon up. Crap. You startled me.

He frowned, his features just visible in the dimming light. I thought we had a conversation. You’re not necessarily among friends, Addy.

So the talk with Butch hadn’t gone well. And her place of refuge harbored at least one individual who wasn’t at all pleased with her, and he had a couple of like-minded friends. She blessed the fact she didn’t bunk in with him. Or them. Point taken. I’ll pay better attention.

You do that. He peered at her. You’re not carrying anything, so there weren’t any caches.

She’d purposely not thought about what she had found, and didn’t want to share with Felix yet, despite his support. It was information for Mitchell, to start. Throwing him a smile, she loosened her grip on her rifle. No caches, so they’re traveling light. Not sure what that means. What’s happening with the interrogation?

Still ongoing. But there’s been no screams or gunshots, so they could be for real.

We can always use ... seasoned fighters. She was replying by rote, really wanting to talk to Mitchell.

He chuckled. C’mon. You know you’re seasoned, woman. Didn’t take long.

Where did you get your experience?

The sandbox.

But... How’s that possible? That was a long time ago. You’re not old enough.

Gently hip checking her sideways, he urged her toward the dining hall. Go eat. It’s been a long time since lunch. We can talk about my youthful appearance another time.

Leaving her at the junction of two buildings, he then melted into the twilight. She stared after him for a moment. A mystery, but one she might come to solve or he wouldn’t have let her in. She’d always liked Felix, who treated her like one of the guys from the start, though had kept her opinion to herself.

But today it felt like she’d turned a corner with him, an alliance built or something. The timing niggled, but she set it aside for now, compiling items and issues to ponder when she lay in her bunk after dark. Plagued by memories and unable to sleep. She headed toward the command post, only to be intercepted by Gabe.

He can’t see you now, Addy.

Her heart sank, but she knew better than to argue with him. Gabe was inflexible and she wasn’t sure he liked her, though he read impartial—to her and most everyone. Then give him a message. Casting a glance around, she lowered her voice. Someone took all our signs down at the base of the slope. And carried them away. I couldn’t find them, not even a post to suggest something was there. I was hard-pressed to find the nails in the trees.

His frame stiffening, he leaned close, also speaking quietly but the intensity of his tone vibrating the quiet evening air. You’re certain?

Positive.

And our spotters didn’t see it done. He said it to himself, musing, but she answered him.

Apparently not. I’d think Mitchell will want to check with those guys he’s interrogating. Because if they hadn’t taken them, it meant the signs could have been down for as long as a week, or longer, seeing as nobody had been down the mountain with the exception of some scouts who went out—and weren’t back, that she knew of. If the signs were gone then, there’d have been an immediate report.

She felt sick and closed her eyes. There had been a half dozen people who climbed up that slope this past week, before today’s group and after the scouts went out. She hadn’t been on duty, but Felix had. And Butch. Somebody else, maybe Gus. Those folks had carried rifles but no ammunition, not much of anything. People remarked on it when the bodies were buried. They’d been looking for shelter. God, no. Her eyes popped wide and she blinked against the involuntary tears.

Gabe rubbed the crease between his own eyes, his thoughts clearly having gone there as well. He actually took her arm, his meaty fingers pressing. You can’t think about that. Might not be true and the guys today took them down for whatever reason. And if not, somebody’s messing with us and it’s on them, what happened.

His advice didn’t do a damn bit of good. It was one thing to protect what was yours, quite another to think people might have been killed while looking to share and contribute. She tugged free and looked away, wondering what Felix would do when he found out. Wondering if she should be the one to tell him. Should have already told him. And what about the burial party? And who might that somebody be? She had a sinking sensation she knew.

Get yourself something to eat. I’ll let Mitchell know. He’ll want to see you anyhow, but not now. He’s... The big man set his mouth. Come by tomorrow, after breakfast.

The leap in her chest, the relief she’d done her penance for crossing Butch eased her survivor’s guilt a little, not that she could consider eating. Just moments ago her belly thought her throat had been cut and she could admit, without shame, going to bed on an empty stomach was something she was most grateful to have left behind, along with other, worse memories. But she knew that food would come right back up, should a morsel pass her lips right now. Those poor people...

Wresting her thoughts under control, she said, I’ll be there. I’m going to find Felix.

The older man hesitated, staring at her, likely reading her mind again. He didn’t think the latest additions to the camp had messed with the signage either. You do that. But keep it to yourself, otherwise.

Got it.

Chapter Two

Jesse stepped inside the tent, noting the presence of all his men who were crammed into the small space. Five pairs of inquiring eyes stared his way but he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. It wasn’t like the cells he’d been confined in, on occasion, with cameras and microphones picking up any crumb of information, but the men stationed outside would eavesdrop if they could.

You done for the day? Wyn Donovan raised a thick brow. He and the others had received but a cursory inspection, the bulk of the effort geared at Jesse.

Maybe. I doubt it. There’s probably lots more questions. We hardly got started again before Stone’s second came in to share something and it must have been bad news because I got sent here. He wasn’t saying anything the guys outside didn’t know, and he wanted his men to be current. How about you?

We haven’t moved from here. Aside from a trek to the latrine. No food, no water. Seems like they aren’t sure about us.

Would you be if the situation was reversed? No harm in those listening to learn that he and his men weren’t surprised by the isolation. If anything, they’d been treated well. From earlier reports, he wouldn’t have been surprised by that, but people change. Entire encampments change—or the rumors weren’t truthful in the first place, merely a guise for something yet unknown.

Fuck, no. Lots would have shot us, asked questions later.

Stretching out on one of the cots, his boots banging against Lizard’s, he tried to get some rest. The short trek to the mountain and the subsequent climb hadn’t been particularly long, or onerous, but staying mentally alert afterward in the face of a man he’d like to believe he could respect, had been tough.

His thoughts turned to that exacting surrender on the slope when he’d intuited their time was up. If the way that little slip of a woman reacted was any indication, he and his men had been a nanosecond away from a bullet in the head. She’d intervened before the guy with the fanaticism written all over his face could blow them away. Was that what happened to the others? Shot before they could ask for asylum? Who the fuck made that decision? And based on what?

The man they’d found on the trail not a week ago, his wound infected, the guy raving in his delirium, stuck in Jesse’s craw. He hadn’t made it, too weak from blood loss and sepsis, but he’d regrouped enough with some food and water to tell his story. He and four others had made the pilgrimage to Stone’s mountain, seeking acceptance into the enclave. The others were dead, shot without warning, apparently, with the survivor soon to succumb to his wounds.

Jesse’s small band had been on their way to see Stone, to offer him a proposition, but he was rethinking that now. His superiors might be acting on false information and he wasn’t inclined to share anything with a common despot. He’d seen enough of Sawyer Bridges’ work and thus far wasn’t prepared to believe Stone was much different.

The features of the woman on the slope replaced his gruesome thoughts. Big, dark eyes, too widely spaced for what passed for true beauty before, but eyes a man could drown in, a tiny nose, a full, lush mouth, and alabaster skin glowing beneath the kiss of the sun. Her dark hair, scraped into a tight mass on the back of her head should have loaned severity to her face, but she was too elfin to carry the look off.

Rolling onto his side, he spoke quietly. What do you hear from the guards?

Alloy leaned closer, speaking from the side of his mouth. Some excitement about us newcomers, although they’re all cautious. One of the snipers who was stationed out there is pissed about the girl.

What about her? His sharp tone made his guy’s eyes widen, speculation heightening his light stare.

To hear one of the guards tell it, she wasn’t in charge out there. He was. He thinks we should’ve been shot for not obeying the rules.

Rules?

Alloy managed a shrug, his whole torso lifting off the cot. No clue. But apparently, there are rules and the Butch guy follows them. To a T.

It was a good thing the girl—woman, because she had to be past her teen years, given her poise and self-assurance—had intervened, then. His own sixth sense notwithstanding. But it didn’t explain—

Raised voices and footsteps pulled his attention to the door. Mitchell’s second had come to fetch him once again. He took comfort in that fact. If he and his men didn’t hold a modicum of importance, then someone else would be gesturing for him to join them. Or worse.

Can my men get something to drink and eat?

Gabe—Gabe, no apparent last name, or maybe that was his last name, looked at him. Hard to read anything from the man. That can be arranged. He called one of the guards over and gave brief instructions.

The guard cast a glance at Jesse but didn’t balk. This was a well-oiled organization. Orders came down from the top and people carried them out, no matter their personal thoughts. To a T. Except for the woman on the slope today. Thank God. He was under no illusions as to how that would have played out, assuming they were half-decent shots.

Your men will be taken care of. And someone will bring you something at Command. The Colonel has to eat too.

Colonel? That was something new and he filed it away with all the other bits and pieces. He itched for a form of communication other than using a runner. His home base had a ham radio setup and had been modified, but communications with other groups were few and far between, despite satellite access. The lack of survivors was unsettling, even among the military that got a heads up. It hadn’t been enough, as it turned out.

Nodding to his men, he then marched alongside Gabe to what he’d already dubbed the command post, feeling elevated somewhat by the other man’s demeanor, He was motioned inside and the door shut firmly behind them.

So, Captain Jesse Forbes, what else do you have for me? Stone relaxed in one of the room’s chairs. Like everything else he’d seen, the place was orderly but sparse.

I’m not sure what else to tell you. And I’m not a Captain anymore. Pretty hard when the military is scattered and not recognized. You know how we came to be here. I’ve told you about the dangers out there. You’ve asked me the same questions in more ways than I can count and that’s the whole of it. Sticking close to the truth made his story credible, a band of survivors—albeit talented ones—meeting up and sticking together, on the road, looking for a place to settle down in. Like society used to be. No mention of them being a band formed at the orders of the surviving military. Certainly no hint of the connection he had with a few of them that went way back. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Stone visibly considered his tale, tapping one long finger on the arm of his chair. Jesse suspected most everything in the camp had come from somewhere else, brought in as was possible by those living here, or carried with them. He wondered if there were parties of people that still went out to forage, seeing as the place was supposedly self-sufficient.

Why did you wait so long to parlay?

He lifted a shoulder. The only cover was about where your snipers were stationed. I guess you’d call it situational awareness.

You cut it close. Was there a hint of worry in the older man’s voice?

It stood to reason you’d have people posted and I didn’t want them to get the wrong idea. And kill us. Timing’s everything. For a moment, Jesse wanted to share his mission but swallowed the words.

What are you holding back?

Shit. The man seemed to read minds. Nope, Jesse wasn’t about to tell him about the offer, having made his own base out to be nothing but a nomadic group of survivors, all spreading out in different directions. The only two lies, omissions, actually. He had to come up with something to allay Stone’s concerns. He could sense the tension building in the room as the other man intuited something and grasped at the proverbial straw.

He said, I don’t want to join up with the likes of Sawyer Bridges.

Stone’s face tightened and his pale-blue eyes froze to chips of ice. And how might I dissuade you from such a comparison?

He wanted to ask about the shootings. And the multitude of graves in the woods. But he also wanted to leave here alive and get back to base to inform his commander. I guess I’ll—we’ll—need to make up our own minds. About one another.

The other man visibly relaxed at the non-contentious reply. He nodded to Gabe, who pulled open the door and took a tray from someone who’d apparently been hovering outside. The grapevine would likely be alive with whatever had been overheard.

We’ll have a meal together, Forbes. Break bread. And discuss how you might come to learn how we operate here. And what you, in turn, can offer us for our hospitality. But, we’ll be keeping an eye on you.

As I will, on you.

Over a pretty good stew, heavy on vegetables, Jesse said, Me and my guys have developed into a fairly good team. We have our own fields of expertise, but we were all military, except for Lizard. Nobody was really sure about Lizard, but his commander had accepted the man without reservation. Maybe we can teach your soldiers, your fighters, some skills. If they’re lacking. And determine what kind of talent he and his men were up against, now and in the future.

Hand-to-hand?

That, close knife work, explosives.

Another pensive look before Stone said, Gabe will set something up. The older man certainly wasn’t giving him a verbal hint as to how the camp defenders were lacking.

He didn’t let his guard down, not even through the consumption of a coveted cup of black, bitter coffee, Stone again picking at him with seemingly innocuous questions.

He must have finally passed muster—for the moment—because the Colonel said, You’ll get an escort to the mess hall tomorrow. You and your men. You’re still under house arrest. For now.

Understood. At some point, maybe I can thank the young woman who saved our asses earlier. If I see her.

He was unprepared for the look Stone leveled on him, somewhere between shock and a hint of anger, before it was replaced with speculation and interest.

Addison? And what do you hope to learn about her?

He matched Stone stare for stare. Word gets around. She wasn’t in charge out there today but she stepped up.

A wry smile twisted the other man’s lips. The grapevine flourishes here, definitely. Kudos to you, Captain. I’m sure Addy will appreciate your thanks.

Something else lingered behind those blue eyes, but Jesse knew he couldn't figure it out, at least not then and there. The other man held his cards close to his chest. But it had something to do with that girl and he planned to give her some serious attention. "Until tomorrow. Colonel."

Playing his other card tightened that smile, but Stone didn’t respond, other than with a gracious nod.

Gabe directed him out and marched him back to the prison tent. Don’t fuck this up, Forbes. You might think you’re smart but you’re outnumbered and outthought. Won’t say we can’t use you, but we’re watching.

He’d gotten under this one’s skin and maybe Stone’s. Hopefully, he’d get to see some true colors. Soon.

Chapter Three

Anyone sitting here? The blond guy from the slope loomed beside her, a full tray balanced in his hands. What the hell?

Her gaze darted behind him, noting a couple of the camp’s fighters taking seats not far away. They took their collective stare off him long enough to give her a nod. The rest of his band were striding in and filling up a table along the wall with a few armed escorts in tow.

Colonel Stone gave us permission to eat and is giving us a place to bunk down. We’re on ... tent arrest. He nodded at his escorts. So, is this space taken?

Her brain rapidly sorted through his comments, as tired as she was. She wasn’t taking the guy’s word for anything but didn’t think it would hurt for him to eat with her. If anything, she might ease her curiosity, gather some intel. Swallowing a mouthful of food, she shook her head. No.

He hovered and she belatedly realized he was waiting for an invitation to sit with her. She got along superficially with most everyone in the camp but social she was not. Though she and Felix might be an exception now. He’d taken the news badly, and they’d sat up all night, talking and thinking, maybe drifting off in between the guilt bringing them wake. They hadn’t solved the problem, both aware of the implications, and danced around other things, learning one another.

By morning, she’d found her appetite had returned a little but Felix went off in another direction as she headed for the mess hall.

Making an awkward gesture toward the chair opposite, she bent her head over her plate. A quiet footstep and a faint rustle of fabric telegraphed the blond guy’s movements and then she caught his silhouette in her peripheral before he sat.

His tray inched into view. Jesse Forbes.

She tasted his name before she could help herself. Addison Longwood.

She pretended not to see his pro-offered hand, staring instead into his face, wondering why she’d given her full name. He gazed back, without apparent guile, his smile doing something strange to her insides before she returned her attention to her meal. Touch wasn’t something she encouraged, not even amongst her fellow fighters, who were more inclined to punch a shoulder or slap a back than shake hands, in any event.

Cutlery flashed as he put them to good use, so presumably, he hadn’t taken offense. He was still sitting across from her, in any event. She slowed her own consumption of the food, seeking the silence a full mouth offered, as she considered that he and his men were lucky to be alive.

He didn’t seem to follow the same train of thought. Good grub. His words were distinguishable but muffled. You been here long?

Instantly suspicious, she said, A while.

Mitchell hadn’t given anyone an audience since these guys arrived, assuredly doing a thorough interrogation. It wasn’t like bona fides could be checked anymore. So she hadn’t heard squat about them, other than the odd, overheard mention, although hoped to learn shortly when she had her audience. She wanted the skinny from the source, in any event.

You knew what you were doing out there on the mountain, he said.

Did he mean her stealthy skills or the way she broke protocol? Freaking twice. She chose a vague if accurate response. People learn to survive.

True, that, but I get the impression we were lucky not to get blown away.

We normally get a call out before you showed the flag. She schooled her features against the thought of those other people, less fortunate. Understatement.

He tilted his head and she watched him watch her. That was the scuttlebutt on the road. That you gotta parlay when approaching Stone’s camp. But we didn’t know you were there.

Then what made you pull out that piece of white fabric? She knew she spoke sharply, but the thought of those innocents killed just days before had her back on edge.

He shrugged, broad shoulders straining at his jacket. I figured if anyone was hiding it would be where you guys were. That, and a feeling. I thought I felt eyes on me.

Her eyes. Her stare. A cool finger feathered up her spine and she fought a shiver. Maybe not. Could have been Felix or Butch. It seemed he didn’t know about the missing signs—he didn’t act suicidal. She certainly wasn’t telling him, not until she talked with Mitchell. Good thing.

Damn straight.

He finished eating in silence and she forced some of the tension out of her muscles. She could scent him, even over the smell of the food, an odor she could describe only as outdoors and sunshine. Nearly biting her lip to hide how her response disconcerted her, she considered instead that he didn’t waft totally sweaty, unwashed male in her direction. She risked a covert, if thorough, glance.

His clothing showed signs of the trek up the mountain slope, smeared with the stains of loam and some tiny bits of foliage caught here and there. He’d washed up someplace, maybe in