Utopia: The Watched Series, #10

By Cindy M Hogan

The war of a generation starts now, and this time, there can only be one victor.

 

Christy and Jeremy stopped Scepter and earned themselves a break. They can finally heal, relax, regroup, and breathe again.

 

At least, that's what Scepter wants them to think.

 

Because soon a crew of Scepter's goons is after her with one goal in mind—to capture Christy once and for all. Now it's a matter of survival as she manages to escape with her life, but at an enormous cost. Scepter has taken over Washington, D.C., declared war on the United States, and thrown the country into complete chaos. Christy can't even rely on Division for help with communications down and all black ops divisions compromised.

 

The entire nation relies on her, and it's all she can do simply to stay alive.

 

It's the war of a generation, a battle of wits, and a test of courage like nothing Christy has ever seen before. And this time, there can only be one victor.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: O'neal Publishing
• Release date: Jan 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215303641

Cindy M Hogan

Cindy M. Hogan is a USA Today bestselling author of young adult suspense and action and adventure novels that always have a dash of clean romance. After her first series, The Watched Series, skyrocketed her to number one, she hasn’t let up and now has over 20 novels to her name. She’s always on the move and never sits down to write, instead she walks and talks into a recorder and lets her computer transcribe her words. If she isn’t writing or editing, she’s teaching, gardening or doing crafts. You’ll always find her listening to an audiobook while working in her park-like yard, cooking or baking something delicious. She dreams to someday have a German style bakery with a cute to-go window for Gelato. Cindy loves to create and her most prized creation is her two amazing daughters, and she secretly wishes they were teenagers again. She loves to be home, but her husband is a die-hard traveler and takes her family around the world. During her travels, she finds an endless supply of story ideas, characters and settings, walking away with either a suntan or jetlag. Her contagious laughter is the cure to almost anything. To read a novel of hers is to see a piece of Cindy, as she puts her all into every novel she writes.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Dawn approached and I could finally see the faint outlines of my living room. I’d been awake at least an hour already but didn’t want to leave my spot on the floor next to Jeremy.

Ace lay slumped in a chair across the room, his head lolling to the side, looking only slightly uncomfortable. A decade of spy work had empowered him to sleep just about anywhere. Tiny snores escaped his lips.

Hal sprawled out on the couch. He was partially covered with a blanket that was much too small for his tall body. I didn't think there was another person who slept more quietly than he did. It was as if he wasn't even breathing.

Last night’s celebrations with my team of spies had been fun and peace stilled through me in thankfulness for my life. I shifted my position on the floor slightly to get a better look at Jeremy.

A thoughtful grin fell onto my face as I stared hard at him still sleeping away. We breathed in and out with a precision known only to us. He’d asked me—just last evening, in this very room—to marry him. And I’d said no. What was I thinking? I wanted to marry him, like now.

I sighed. The timing was off. I was off. I was still confused about losing my superpower memory during the blast at Polity, a major arms trafficking business, and how it would continue to change me. It had to, after all. There was no way around it. Something that big couldn’t be ignored. I’d gone from remembering every little last thing that I’d seen or heard in perfect detail to needing to use all kinds of memory tricks to remember even the littlest things.

I glanced toward the sliding glass doors that led to the back balcony of my condo and the ravine beyond. It grounded me—gave me peace. The green trees and vines reminded me I was home. It had been a long time and the past week here had been nice. I’d done nothing but read and relax, not even bothering to leave unless totally necessary. Besides spending a few hours at his place, Jeremy and I had been together since leaving Houston.

We’d gone from one mission to another over the past year without a break. We worked for Division 57, one of the ten legs of Division, a black ops section of the United States government. It seemed security threats were coming at breakneck speed these days. I cursed my injuries. I liked being in the thick of things. But maybe Director Hamlin was right. I simply needed a holiday.

I turned my attention back to Jeremy. His sleeping breaths came shallow and soft. In and out. In and out. His tanned face was completely relaxed. I took a deep, cleansing breath, careful not to disturb him. Could anything be more perfect? Our faces were only inches apart, and I could see every separate eyelash. There was one imperfection, if you dared call it that. He had a small scar just below his chin from a takedown in Shanghai ten years ago, before I knew who he was. Before Jeremy became a handler for Division 57 and was still just a spy, Kim Long had swiped him with a knife. Kim would certainly not be the last, but he had been the last to leave a scar. Jeremy had become an expert in knives, guns, hand-to-hand combat, and poisons. Those had become his superpowers. He was no easy target. No spy could be.

Of course, my superpowers were gone now. What kind of spy could I be? If I wanted to remain one, I’d have to develop my own new superpowers, I guessed. Jeremy had told me I was still valuable, that I had a lot still to offer. That Division hadn’t recruited me simply because of my photographic memory, which I knew wasn’t true. I’d been the only fifteen-year-old operative I’d ever heard of. Now, years older it seemed a little like a dream. A soft groan of hunger came from deep inside my belly. I needed to stop thinking about it. Thoughts would get me nowhere. I needed to put my money where my mouth was. Yes. Instead of wallowing in self-pity over the next month of forced vacation, I would develop some new skills. I would create my own superpowers.

A light shadow of stubble was just appearing on Jeremy’s face. His eyelids covered his bright blue eyes and, even in sleep, his newly cropped hair was stylish in the best way. Tingles swept over me at our arms touching and the warmth I felt between his arm and mine, our single point of contact. I thought of his proposal yesterday afternoon again and how vulnerable he had looked as he had asked me to marry him, how he had gazed deep into my eyes and whispered the words. Tingles swept over me again, just as they had then.

It wasn't fair to make him wait, but it also wasn’t fair to give myself to him as damaged as I was. Barely a month had passed since the explosion. How exactly it might change me was, to a large extent, an unknown. It most definitely affected my work as a spy. Losing my photographic memory wasn’t the only problem. Some other things were lost forever, like my analyzing speed. My mind didn’t automatically take all the things it had learned and spit out answers anymore. I had to work for solutions, and it was hard—a whole new way of thinking.

The thought of losing Jeremy tugged at the innermost part of me. I wanted to wake him and tell him I'd been crazy and of course I would marry him. But who would he be marrying? A shadow of the girl he thought I was. The girl he had fallen in love with no longer existed. I was somebody different. What if he discovered I had turned into something he no longer wanted? A chill raced through me. Only time would tell. Only time could ensure that losing my superpower memory hadn’t made me too different from the person he’d fallen in love with. Yes. Time would reveal whether the two of us were truly meant to be together and whether the person I was becoming was someone he loved just as much as the person I once was.

My stomach growled again. Afraid the loud sound would wake Jeremy, I carefully rolled to the side and extracted myself from our shared blanket, but I still didn’t get up. I savored the memories of last night.

After dinner, Jeremy and I had sat with our backs leaned against the couch to watch the show. As the evening turned to night, we claimed a spot on the carpeted floor to sleep, steering clear of the bedroom. Our lines had been drawn a long time ago and there would be none of that until and if we married. We couldn’t allow temptation to derail what we treasured. No, better to be around others to help us do nothing more than kiss. The presence of others definitely helped us do that.

I surveyed the room as I lay there. My entire team was asleep, and my heart seemed to enlarge just thinking about all of them. One by one, we had drifted off after celebrating our minor victory over Scepter, a large fanatical group that wanted to take America back to its agricultural roots by first destroying its infrastructure and ridding it of its current politics.

They wanted a Utopia of sorts. Scepter had already destroyed the stock market, brought in tons of illegal weapons, and infiltrated the government on many levels. According to Scepter’s strong arm, John, they had also infiltrated the CIA and Division black ops. At least we’d stopped them from destroying all the petroleum infrastructure of the country. And for that, Division had ordered a mandatory rest period. We were told to go home. My injury meant a month's leave. The rest of my team would be back at it in another week. I was green with envy.

We lived just outside of Morgantown, West Virginia. A Division sub-headquarters was just outside D.C., and we had to live within an hour. Under perfect circumstances, Morgantown fit that criteria. It took a quick, expensive helicopter, but still. During what little time we spent here, Morgantown was just the right escape.

Two of my friends and fellow spies—Halluis, our resident Frenchman, or Hal, as we liked to call him, and Ace—had showed up at my place only a short time after Jeremy’s proposal. They had no idea what they had interrupted. We lived within ten minutes of each other, each with our own places.

If only things were different. My super photographic memory had been a part of me for so long, I could arguably say that I wouldn’t be the me Jeremy had known and fallen in love with ever again. I needed to discover who I was now, and he needed to rediscover me, too. Maybe he wouldn’t like who I was now, or who I would become.

A quick glance at the clock told me it was already eight in the morning. No wonder my stomach was growling. I had been lying there enjoying the closeness I shared with Jeremy for several hours. I’d never been a person who slept in. My gaze fell on Jeremy again. Feeling his soft breaths, in and out, was so calming. I slid over and stuffed a pillow in the spot I’d vacated. He shifted. He had noticed the change, but with only a slight adjustment, he continued to sleep on.

I knew my condo well and knew exactly where to step to avoid making a sound. I looked out the back windows into the leafy trees again. My first floor was level with the street out front, but in the back, it fell off into a beautiful ravine created by a continuously flowing small river. I would let my team sleep until breakfast was ready. Certainly, the smell of bacon would rouse them before I had to.

I rummaged through the freezer and pulled out a package of trusty bacon and put it into the microwave to defrost. After grabbing some freeze-dried eggs out of the pantry, I put them in a pan with some water to reconstitute. Then I pulled pancake mix from the cupboard, and after a quick sniff to see if it had soured—it hadn’t—I poured some into a bowl and added water. After a failed attempt at finding some chocolate chips to add to the pancakes, I put some butter on a skillet and listened to it sizzle as it melted.

I poured little round mounds of batter that slowly spread into bigger circles into the pan and looked longingly at the little TV hanging from my cupboard. What was being reported about Scepter and the oil fields of Texas? What was happening with the stock markets, Polity and well, everything? What spin would the media and government give this time? Jeremy and I had promised each other not to check—to truly have a break from the chaos of the world and the responsibility we felt to fix it. It took only mentioning it to Hal and Ace for them to join us. It had been a full week, though, and I was itching to know something. What did it matter really? If there was any trouble, Director Hamlin wouldn’t allow us to do anything about it anyway. I’d just get riled up and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. What good would it do?

But I couldn’t take my eyes off the blank screen. I had to know. I’d just take a quick peek. That was all. They’d most likely set up some big cover-up anyway, and I’d learn nothing from the news. Heaven forbid the public know the truth. I was dying to know. The more I thought about it, the more I couldn’t resist.

I flipped the small TV on, taking a quick look around the corner to make sure the guys weren’t awake. No one stirred. I’d get a quick overview and leave it. I grabbed the defrosted bacon and threw it onto a baking sheet in the oven. I took a can of orange juice from the freezer and focused on the screen as I stirred the crystalized chunk in the water.

There was mass chaos on TV: fires, tanks, people screaming. An uprising somewhere. I turned the volume up and looked at the background of the video for clues as to where this was. Was another country having the same problems we were? There was no sound. So, my little guy had finally bit the dust. The TV had served me well. I stood closer to it and scrutinized what I was seeing.

In the background, I spied a bunch of familiar sites. No way. It couldn’t be. And yet, my eyes were not deceiving me. It was Washington D.C. What the…?

I ran into the living room, not caring if I woke my team, and turned on the big TV we’d used last night to binge our favorite sitcom about a group of normal twenty-year-olds trying to figure out life on their own. What would that be like?

I flipped through the stations as the guys grunted and squinted and obviously tried to ignore the fact that it was morning. All stations were showing the same type of disruption in various cities.

I turned the volume up and said, You’ve got to see this.

The smell of something burning sent me back into the kitchen. I was usually a master at multitasking, but it was hard not to focus on the scary pictures on the screen. I turned the burnt pancakes, then tossed them.

Dang it! I kept my eyes on the small TV as I poured another batch. Not my best work, but my focus had to be on what was happening on the screen. I stirred the eggs, then removed them from the burner. They were done.

My heart pounded as I stepped into the living room and stood over the still-sleeping spies. No sound came from the TV, but it was more of what I’d seen in the kitchen, just much bigger. Yo! Look at the TV.

CHAPTER 2

Ihurried back to the kitchen and checked the bacon. It was ready, so I pulled it out. As I stared at the images on the little screen, I pulled out plates, cups, and silverware. I tapped on the TV. I still couldn’t get any sound.

A hasty plating of the food followed and after balancing two filled plates on my arms and two in my hands, I hustled into the living room, relieved nothing fell before I could pass the food out to the guys. It was a good thing I’d gotten up and started breakfast. We’d need the nourishment for whatever orders we were about to receive from Division. The guys were alert and focused on the screen now. I needed to hear what was being said. Could you turn it up?

There’s no sound, Jeremy said to the room. Sorry. He was pointing the remote at the TV and pushing the volume button. Ace grabbed the remote from Jeremy and started pressing buttons too.

The TV in the kitchen didn’t have any sound either, I said.

Jeremy gave me a look that said, Why did you turn the TV on? I set my plate next to Jeremy, trying not to feel guilty and went back to the kitchen to grab the drinks and condiments. I put them all on a tray and set the tray on the coffee table. I sat next to Jeremy, knowing this might be the last opportunity for such a luxury for some time. A flurry of activity occurred as everyone ate, their eyes riveted on the TV. Ace grabbed the ketchup while Jeremy went for the pepper. Hal chugged his orange juice in what looked like one giant swallow.

As Jeremy ate, he pulled out his cell phone and pushed some buttons. He was our handler and knew just what to do in these situations.

No reception. He grimaced as he pulled out a second phone. His satellite phone. The phone he used only for contacting Division 57. As he held it up to his ear, he said to us, Eat up. This may be your last hot meal for a while, even though we already knew it. And phones off, just in case. We powered down our phones.

This is Mercury Doberman, he said into the phone, and waited. This is— he began again, but paused to stare at his phone, as if reading something. Then his lips pressed together. Let’s get ready to move.

Wait. What’s going on? Ace asked as he pulled out his laptop. What did they say?

They said nothing, Jeremy said. But I got a text on the sat phone sometime last night. He lifted his sat phone so we could all see. Protocol Dark.

Silence filled the room, and nobody moved for several seconds. Protocol Dark meant that Division as we knew it was no longer. All agents were to go dark until contacted by their immediate supervisors. Something terrible had happened if Division was going dark and wanted its agents to go dark too.

Like I said, eat up and get ready to move. Jeremy finished his food and headed for the kitchen.

I scarfed down the bacon, always my priority, and walked into the kitchen as Jeremy left it.

Ace quietly called out, "I checked your security cameras. Looks clear at the moment. I inhaled the pancakes without tasting anything. I didn’t even care I had forgotten to get jam from the fridge. After grabbing the rest of the bacon, I rolled it in a paper towel and headed into the living room, where the guys had already retrieved the emergency packs from my bedroom. Each of our homes had emergency packs for the four of us. While each backpack had a few specific things just for the owner, each one had the basics. A warm coat and thermal blanket, water, food rations, toiletries, a flashlight, compass, radio and various other survival and spy things. They eyed my wrapped-up bacon. I reluctantly shared with all of them.

Just then, someone knocked on the door. We froze and looked at each other. No one ever visited me here. Ace looked at the feed from the camera’s again and made the motion that indicated we needed to move. I glided around, quiet as a mouse, picking up the belongings that would lead someone to know who lived here—things only I knew about. The guys, in a near-silent rush, cleaned up anything that would show someone had been here recently, putting my plate and fork into the sink and hiding theirs in the dishwasher. Unfortunately, we couldn’t erase the smell of breakfast—the bacon, in particular.

But Jeremy got the living room completely refreshed as if we hadn’t been there at all, with everything in its place in less than one minute, just in time for me to nod that I had what we needed. The kitchen remained a disaster. We had to hope whoever was at the door would believe I had simply eaten breakfast and gone to work.

With well supplied packs on our backs, we headed for the back of the house. Cameras showed several people walking about the area and knocking on doors. We would not be using the front door to escape. It had been years since we practiced evacuating from my condo, but the practice we did had stuck, so the four of us slipped out the back and down into the ravine.

I didn’t need to see who was at the door. We all knew that whoever it was, he or she was not someone we wanted to meet.

Interestingly enough, my daily living had gradually reflected the life of a spy. Personal items were kept to a minimum and put in specific places in the condo that only I knew. It had only taken two minutes for me to clear out anything that left a trace of who lived there. It felt like my home was up for sale at all times, bare of anything that showed I lived in it.

We didn’t even pause to look back and see if anybody was following us. Dark protocol had been followed perfectly. The first little while, we didn’t worry about being heard. Speed was of the essence. We had to get out of the area fast. We simply moved as quickly as we could down the ravine with a slight northerly path that would bring us to the riverbed on a diagonal, as we relied on our acute senses to alert us of any danger.

At the five-minute mark, we reached the bottom and slowed slightly, covering our tracks, but leaving misdirection for those who were sure to follow at some point. We fell into a straight line as we moved along the creek to its source, some two miles north.

Sure, we could’ve taken out whoever knocked on the door, but that also would have alerted the Scepter authorities to our location. A neighbor might give information about who they had seen come to the property yesterday. None of us had entered with stealth in mind. We hoped the people who had come knocking would just assume, at least for a little while, that it was a normal household of a commuter who lived in D.C. during the week and had already gone. This would give us time. And it would give any neighbor who had perhaps seen us enter the house time to forget the particulars and details.

Could it simply be a coincidence that someone knocked on our door that morning? Or could it be Scepter canvassing and recording who was who and where everyone lived? Or could it be that Scepter already knew I lived there?

That a spy lived there? I used an alias, of course, to buy the house, but still. We would have to wait for Division to let us know. Of course, we used code names and terms that we hoped Scepter couldn’t decipher. We even had secondary code names.

We stayed in the ravine until it basically ended at a constructed waterfall bursting out from a big pipe in the hill in front of us. It had been half an hour already. We climbed the incline and peered over the edge through the dense brush at the street and homes nearby.

It was easy to see that the crowd of cars on the street did not match the number of houses, and it was impossible to ignore the black Mercedes and BMWs parked on the lower-income street. There was also an inordinate number of vans and trucks with heavily tinted windows. Those were a dead giveaway of trouble. Several pairs of men were going door to door and knocking, just like someone had at my condo.

Could Scepter be organized enough to have such a force in every neighborhood in the nation? A feeling of cold rushed over me. Actually, it was more than a chill; it was more like the burning of bare hands holding dry ice. This was insane.

We ducked to hide again.

Ace, Jeremy said, get in closer to some of those vans to see what’s inside. Hal, find out what those goons are saying when they knock on the doors. Oh, and Ace, try to tap into their comms to find out what is going on.

I’ve been jamming comms. Are you sure you want to risk them hearing us? Ace raised an eyebrow.

Yes, Jeremy said. We’ll be in silent mode for now. They will have nothing to hear. I’ll also go out and see what I can see and hear. You, Christy, stay here. Be our lookout. Alert us only if it’s urgent.

He wasn’t slighting me, even though I hated being the lookout and missing the action. But the more I put everything together, the more obvious it became this was a targeted strike. They were most likely after particular people, and I was probably one of them. I tried not to be annoyed. John, the head of Scepter security would love to get his hands on me. He wanted to use my photographic memory to his advantage. I rued the day I got into his crosshairs. It was personal as much as it was tactical for him.

Jeremy rubbed a hand through his hair and looked me in the eye. I’m sorry, but we can’t risk you. Be observant from this spot and when we get back, let us know what you see and hear.

I nodded and gave him a pressed smile.

Nestled into my spot behind bushes on the slope of the hill, wishing things were different and watching my friends quietly scatter, I tried to observe what was happening. Men took people from their homes, gagged and bound, and loaded up the vans. Screams and gunshots filled the air as people tried to resist or escape. Not a single rabbit, a person trying to escape, actually made it past their own front lawn without either being taken down and bound or shot. It was so hard to stay put. I wanted to help them all.

I spotted my team fulfilling their assignments. It was the only way, in the end, that we could help these people. Ace suddenly rejoined me on the slope and settled in a few feet away. He pulled out his radio and tools from his pack.

The moment he turned the dial on his machine on to listen in on Scepter, something peculiar happened. Several of the drivers of the large vans and trucks got out at the same moment and all looked in our direction. I tapped Ace, and he looked up to see the men walking in our direction, guns raised. Ace motioned for the two of us to start across the slope. It was slow moving, but we made progress as fast as we could.

Are you seeing this? Ace whispered into his com.

You mean the masses of men heading your way? Jeremy said, tightness in his voice.

Yes. They didn’t see me. I know that. They must have picked up on our signal. I just turned our radio on.

Get the heck out of there, Jeremy hissed. Jam the frequencies again!

The radio went silent, and Ace turned a few dials and then pressed a button on a small recorder-like device.

Ace and I quickly continued across and up the brushy slope. It was the exact opposite of what a pursuer might think would happen, because the path of least resistance was down. It was a hard slog through the brush at this sharp angle. We sped up. With the speed of two scared lizards, we made our way through the dense foliage with the least amount of disturbance as possible. My body protested, my injuries from fighting Scepter rearing their ugly heads, but I forced myself to continue. I would not let Scepter goons capture me or my team at first go.

An explosion rocked the ground.

CHAPTER 3

Ace and I tumbled a little way down the hill. Each of us grabbed hold of a bush to stop our descent. We stared at each other and then scrambled back up to the safety of the bush line and raced away. Had Scepter caused the explosion, or Hal and Jeremy? If it was Hal or Jeremy, I assumed they’d done it to distract our pursuers. I could only hope that in saving us, they didn’t put themselves in jeopardy.

Ace and I covered several miles before we found a place to rest without any of the cars, vans, and the suspicious vehicles lining the roadway. We had also run out of suitable cover. One of our questions had been answered. Scepter did not have a force large enough to be converging on neighborhoods everywhere. The current neighborhood looked undisturbed. Why were my neighborhood and surrounding ones attacked? For at least a mile now, we hadn’t seen any suspicious vehicles. Why? I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew. I knew this was John’s doing. As head of Scepter security, this would be a simple order. He’d simply say he was rounding up people who were likely to get in the way of Scepter’s success. I wish he’d forget I existed. It truly was the definition of wishful thinking. But how had he known where to look for me?

John and I had a long history that started when his son, Alex, had attended the same school political trip to Washington, D.C. when I was only fifteen. Alex had been my second kiss ever. His father never approved of me and made sure we were kept apart. Only Alex had disobeyed and sought me out. John thought I was a bad influence on Alex, when in truth, it was John that was the bad influence. He wanted total control of his son but when he was around me, Alex didn’t allow it. John was a cold, calculated killer and he wanted his son to be by his side.

Let’s take a five-minute rest, Ace said. It’s been two hours, and it’s check-in time. I’m going to turn our headsets on each minute for exactly two seconds. If Jeremy is trying to contact us, we’ll hear him. Then we move again, but quickly, in case Scepter can locate our signal with some magic wizardry that I don’t know exists. He gave me a look that told me he wouldn’t be surprised. Not after what we had witnessed them achieve in Texas with the drones destroying the oilfields.

I knew he normally wouldn’t say aloud what protocol dictated, but he was trying to spare me another moment of not knowing what to do next. If I still had my photographic memory, I would have all the information in my brain already.

Ace stared at his watch like a hawk. When it clicked on the hour, he pressed his com on and used his fingers to count one, two. He pressed it off. Apparently there had been nothing.

My heart gave a terrible thud. What if something had happened to Jeremy? And possibly worse, what if Scepter had him and Hal? Ace’s furrowed brow told me he was thinking the same thing, but after several more seconds, he opened his bag and reached inside. He pulled out the disrupter—the tool that jammed all frequencies. He shook his head.

Oh, brother. He jabbed at the disrupter. Apparently, he had forgotten to turn it off when signaling Jeremy. Hope sprang up inside me. Maybe we had just missed the transmission because of the disrupter. Ace looked at his watch again. I watched mine. It was like my heartbeat with each second, screaming along, desperate to hear Jeremy’s voice on the com.

At exactly one second before the next minute, Ace pressed the off switch on the disrupter and on the minute, we both pressed our coms on.

Jeremy’s voice broke radio silence with only a letter and