Emerald Revolution

By Rebekah Shelton

The United States has faced a devastating attack, resulting in the loss of millions of American lives. The Snow Wolves have been whisked away by the gods along with a small troop of their family. Amid this chaos, the Snow Wolves have been given a new mission - to raise a militia and reclaim their country. However, as they travel eastward, they are disheartened to find a lack of survivors. How can they effectively fight back without a formal military force? Gathering weapons and unskilled fighters, they are determined to accomplish the task they never volunteered for. Most wolves and other creatures and supernaturals refuse to assist. Every day is a battle against the invasion, attempting to push the Canadian Army north of the border. Their advance north is complicated and thwarted by groups of homegrown militia and raiders. Are they on a fool's errand, or will they be victorious?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebekah Shelton
• Release date: Jan 29, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215494349

Rebekah Shelton

Rebekah Shelton, originally from Northeastern Ohio and now residing in Middle Tennessee with her husband, is an empty nester who found her passion for writing through her love of reading. Her literary journey began with her first book, "Emerald Eyes," which started as a tragic romance but evolved into a captivating paranormal romance. Captivated by the characters she created, Rebekah continued to delve into their world, crafting the ongoing series known as the "Legend of the Snow Wolves." Expanding upon her storytelling prowess, she ventured into the realm of the supernatural with a mythological twist in her spin-off series, "The Red Wolf Chronicles."Driven by her addiction to sci-fi movies and her boundless imagination, Rebekah embarked on her third series, titled "The Battle for Zarcon," immersing readers in an exhilarating science fiction universe. Displaying her versatility as an author, she co-authored a book alongside her husband, Jeff, entitled "Operation De-ICE - The Battle for Earth," delivering a collaborative tale filled with thrilling adventures and epic battles."Address for Murder" draws inspiration from a real-life incident that sparked the author's imagination. The story revolves around a woman who faces difficulties receiving packages at her post office box, which had previously been rented by an FBI agent. Intrigued by the possibilities, the author began contemplating what would unfold if the box came into the possession of a CIA agent entangled in a dangerous web of deception and betrayal. Thus, "Address for Murder" was born, weaving a thrilling narrative that explores the consequences of a double or even triple cross, putting the life of an innocent girl in jeopardy.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Gracey

We stand atop the highest point in the city, our eyes scanning the horizon, desperate for any sign of life. The bustling crowds we encountered on our journey from Atlanta to Lone Hill have vanished, leaving an eerie silence. Now, we press forward, heading east-northeast toward what was once our nation's capital, five hundred miles from our home. It is a leap into the unknown, but we have deemed it the best starting point for our search as a group.

We comb through homes and hospitals daily, hoping to find survivors. Yet, our efforts have yielded no results. In the first two days of our journey, we ventured into a few churches, seeking solace and signs of life. But all we discovered were more lifeless bodies—individuals who had assembled and perished together, having given up hope of recovering.

We are confronted with towering piles of corpses in every city we pass through. Those at the bottom were almost reduced to ashes as attempts were made to cremate them. As the stacks rise, the bodies display varying stages of cremation and decomposition. At the summit, any endeavor to dispose of the deceased seems to have ceased. It is as if the living have surrendered, even in their treatment of the dead. The sight has become distressingly familiar, yet it remains a ghastly reminder of the devastation. And the stench—I struggle to find words to convey its repulsiveness. The mingling odors of charred flesh and decaying bodies have assaulted our senses, leaving an indelible mark. It is a scent that will forever haunt me.

Fortuitously, we stumble upon small caches of food along our journey. Each morsel becomes a precious blessing, and we devour them with gratitude. As we move away from larger cities, signs of looting become scarce. Many homes remain untouched, standing as silent witnesses to the absence of survivors or raiders.

Within these homes, we encounter entire families who have perished. Some lie in eternal slumber, while others bear the tragic signs of murder-suicide, their bodies ravaged by illness. Elderly couples, hand in hand, are discovered with empty medicine bottles at their side.

Countless individuals have relinquished hope, perhaps believing they were caught amid an apocalypse. Without proper communication, they likely assumed death was their only escape. They sought a peaceful end, liberated from pain and suffering. Like Gabriella and Elmer, they chose to embrace eternal sleep. I try to comprehend their despair and hopelessness, but it eludes me. I cannot abandon hope. I refuse to succumb or surrender.

Months have passed since the bombs fell. We remain uncertain about the duration—how many more months or years it will take to push the invaders back north. We find ourselves moving at a slower pace than anticipated. Witnessing such widespread death has drained us more than we ever imagined. We were abruptly uprooted and forced to leave with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Some of us carry weapons, while others do not. We discover firearms, ammunition, knives, and machetes in the abandoned houses.

Most nights, we seek shelter indoors, finding backpacks and warm clothing left behind. We take only what we absolutely need, pilfering with a sense of necessity rather than entitlement. Some may attribute our fortune to divine intervention, but I believe we are solely reliant on ourselves. It is why I have chosen to document our journey—a testament to our resilience and survival in these dire times. This is our story.

It has been five days since our departure from home, and among our group, Eli stands out as the sole non-wolf member. I suspect he is with us primarily because of Tripp. Tripp asserts that his military experience as an ex-marine makes him essential to our group. I jestingly claim that he is my self-appointed bodyguard. Eli was assigned as Tripp's guardian angel, although the reason behind this decision remains a mystery. Perhaps the Gods foresaw the impending invasion and believed Tripp would play a vital role in the recovery. However, everything we speculate is merely conjecture.

Ethan's presence brings me solace. Having traversed most of the country on foot, his navigation skills and extensive knowledge of the terrain prove invaluable to our journey.

Gemma's inclusion in our entourage perplexes me. She is too young to witness the destruction and despair we encounter. I wish she could be shielded from these hardships at home with Rocky and the rest of her family.

Fortunately, Geni has managed to retain her magical abilities. There have been occasions where her skills in conjuring fire proved valuable. However, her training with Violet was still in its early stages, and Geni's grasp of magic remains rudimentary and limited. In hindsight, Violet may have been a more suitable choice. Nevertheless, I have learned not to question Odin's decisions. Even if I were to confront him directly, I know he would not provide the answers I seek.

Odin has offered us scarce information. He whisked us away without warning, depositing us more than a hundred miles east of Lone Hill. As Odin conveyed, our mission is to rebuild the nation and reestablish the military and government. Since then, he has vanished, and we have not seen him again.

Our journey eastward through Tennessee feels futile thus far. We have not come across our soldiers or glimpses of the invading forces. Instead, all we have witnessed is death and desolation. How can we reclaim our country without people? We lack answers, only a sense of purpose. It is akin to being dropped into the heart of a barren desert and instructed to build a log cabin—an impossible task. Yet, we persist in our eastward trek.

We have decided to seek higher ground, hoping to find signs of life and gather allies for our cause. We anticipate reaching Kingsport, Tennessee, soon. Rather than turning north, we will veer east into the Cherokee National Forest. Perhaps we can see lights or other indications of human presence from an elevated position.

The absence of people weighs heavily on our minds. In Lone Hill, we had survivors—individuals with whom we had to defend ourselves from marauders and raiders daily. But we have not encountered a single soul on the roads. Where have they all gone? Based on our early post-bombing findings, no place was entirely safe. Either the cities were obliterated, or the surrounding areas became contaminated. However, there must be survivors somewhere. They hold the key to our survival and our nation's resurgence.

Chapter 2

Gracey

Even before our sudden departure, the bonds within our family and pack were unraveling. The debates and justifications continue to echo in my mind. We were aware that our pack had grown too large. We had evolved from a tight-knit family into a community united by our shared DNA, concealed from the prying eyes of humans.

Arguments and disagreements consumed us as we grappled with our future. Would staying together only expose us to greater danger? Did we possess the resources necessary for survival? Or should we disband, splitting into smaller groups?

For weeks, Tripp fervently advocated for a select few of us to venture out in search of assistance, perhaps even seeking out others of our kind. He yearned to ignite a revolution, to fight for our country regardless of the sacrifices. Stone and I held reservations, yet we would have followed Tripp's lead if he had left. And, of course, Eli would have had to accompany us, inevitably drawing Petra along, even if Eli had not explicitly expressed his intentions to her.

If Petra had departed, Carrick would have undoubtedly followed suit. He adamantly refused to leave his sister unprotected, and wherever Carrick went, so did Miriam.

With Violet's newly regained youth, her strength surged to unprecedented levels, her magical prowess standing in a league of its own. She was prepared to stand by our side, eager for a new adventure, even if it was her last.

The elder wolves, weathered by time or weakened by circumstance, could no longer engage in battle. They relied on Emerald City, Lane, Andrea, and the rest of the pack to protect them, as did the wolves born to human parents. It was only a matter of time before they would succumb, some sooner than others.

Alana yearned to journey westward in search of her half-siblings, Daniel and Martine, the last remaining members of her blood family. She pleaded with Kenzie and her mate, James, to accompany her, but they refused. James could not bear to leave his family, especially with Jade on the verge of giving birth. Kenzie now served as the CEO of Rudolph, Inc., and Rocky would never abandon Gemma.

Despite his parents residing in Emerald City, Drew harbored a desire to venture east, seeking traces of the Mortons. He felt a stronger pull toward his ancestors and other relatives in that region. Raven refused to abandon Emerald Knoll, determined to remain with her parents and children at any cost, even if it meant sacrificing her mate. Drew ultimately decided to stay, although his heart broke in the process.

As new mothers or soon-to-be mothers, Charlotte, Rachel, and Jade were committed to the sanctuary provided by the pack. Alec, Chase, and Neal stayed behind, safeguarding their mates and young offspring.

The wolves hailing from Moon Meadow steadfastly refused to flee or hide. Alma, Conner, Tara, and Josh had remained after the 2053 massacre and would stand their ground once more. Blake and Denise stood beside them as they were family.

This left us with the self-proclaimed purebloods and the healthy, younger wolves. Brent deeply resented us, mainly me, as I had killed his uncle Evan. It was no secret how much he despised me, and whenever I witnessed him conversing with Rio, a shudder coursed through my being. Both Brent and Rio believed in pure bloodlines, considering themselves superior. It was merely a matter of time before they would challenge Lane and Emilio for their positions as Alpha and Beta. The mere thought made me cringe.

The younger wolves, the teenagers, often discussed departing. They perceived themselves as invincible, strong, and untouchable. We had to constantly remind them of what happened to Michael on the rooftop of the Nirvana plant. Nonetheless, Gale, Paulo, Alfred, Ian, Rayssa, and Ryan contemplated establishing a new pack independent of the current one. They recognized that it was only a matter of time before Emerald Knoll could no longer sustain our growing numbers. Deep down, the rest of us were aware of this truth as well.

Before Odin whisked us away, the population of Emerald City had numbered fifty-four. Now, it is left with forty-seven inhabitants. Or are there?

Chapter 3

Gracey

Gather enough food for two days, Tripp calls out as we prepare to leave. We're uncertain how long the journey up the mountain and back will take.

And don't forget blankets, Geni reminds everyone. It gets colder as we ascend.

I can hear Gemma groaning, clearly struggling with being away from her family, especially Rocky. Tripp is doing his best to conceal his frustration, aware that returning home won't be an option for him anytime soon. The thought of missing the birth of his first grandchild only adds to his inner turmoil. He had made a promise to Rachel that he would be there, holding her hand during the delivery of her son.

Couldn't they have waited until spring? Gemma complains, assuming that this plan is orchestrated by all the gods, not just Odin. It's freezing ass cold out there.

Gemma! Stone bellows, his voice reminiscent of my father's. Mind your language!

Despite Gemma groaning once again and stomping her foot, I can't help but think of my daddy. I still haven't come to terms with his death and sacrifice to rescue Charlotte from the shifters' clutches. In a way, I'm relieved that he didn't live to see what our country has become. I remember him telling me how his father died for our country. This current state of affairs would have shattered my daddy's heart.

The Canucks are accustomed to the cold, Ethan reminds us for what feels like the hundredth time. They know we won't be adequately prepared.

We! Tripp exclaims. Last time I checked, you're one of them.

I may have been born north of the border, Ethan retorts. But I don't identify with them.

All I want is to go home, Gemma whines.

Yeah, we tried that, remember? Geni growls. Your precious G-Paw sent us packing back east. He won't let us return until we've completed this mission, whatever it may be.

Gemma starts to cry. I despise him. Rocky and I were in the midst of our mating ceremony.

You weren't going to consummate the marriage, for heaven's sake, Geni groans. It was merely a ceremonial pretense so you could gain wealth.

It had nothing to do with the money, Gemma yells. We love each other and want to spend the rest of our lives together. Maybe if you had mated with Gale as you were meant to, then you'd understand.

I'm a witch! We don't marry, Geni states firmly.

But you're a wolf! Gemma bellows. Just like me!

Prove it by lighting the fire tonight, Geni challenges with a laugh. Then we'll see if I'm really like you.

Enough, both of you, Stone commands sternly. This petty arguing is testing my patience.

Seriously? Geni counters. She's only five years old.

Do these look like the breasts of a five-year-old? Gemma asks, cupping her chest.

Stop it! Stone yells again. Or both of you will be in timeout.

Geni, Ethan groans. Behave yourself.

And what if I don't? Geni snarls vehemently. You might be my father, but I'm not a child. You can't enter my life after eighteen years and dictate my actions.

Stone growls and grabs his pack. I'll be outside.

Eli is slowing us down.

Walking on foot is exhausting, but the sluggish pace weighs on us even more. Eli, Violet, and Geni had trouble keeping up when we left Atlanta after the initial bombings. However, Geni has transformed into a wolf now, unlike Eli.

If only we could travel in wolf form, we could cover ground much faster. We have debated our options countless times, or rather, engaged in heated arguments. It took us a whole week to walk from Atlanta to Lone Hill. As wolves, we could have reached home in less than two days. By car, it would have taken only three and a half hours if we had found passable roads—roads that hadn't transformed into parking lots or death traps. Unfortunately, we were forced to take back roads, putting as much distance as possible between us and the destruction. We could only walk a mere thirty to forty miles each day.

And now, we continue walking. I suppose we should be grateful that Odin dropped us near the mountains, but we still need to ascend to higher elevations. Climbing uphill will drain every ounce of our energy, making the journey twice as long for half the distance.

I notice Eli squeezing an extra pair of socks into his pack. He has found a small stash of protein bars. He'll need every gram of energy they provide. Soon, the rest of us will require the same.

Make sure to fill your water bottles, Tripp reminds us as if it were our first day on the road.

Yes, sir, Geni barks sarcastically. At least we'll feel lighter with every sip, she adds. I feel like a pack mule.

Let's be grateful that we've been able to restock along the way, Tripp scowls. I'm still surprised this area hasn't been plundered. It's beyond my understanding.

No sign of people, Ethan shrugs. We should have encountered at least a few.

It's as if they've vanished, Gemma remarks. I'm not encountering as many ghosts as I had anticipated.

Perhaps they've all moved on, Eli suggests.

Maybe, Gemma responds with little conviction.

It's windy out there, Stone warns. Make sure to wear hats and scarves today.

Are we sticking to the roads? Eli asks.

No, Stone replies. We're heading straight up the mountain. It's the most direct route to the summit.

And it provides more cover from stragglers, Tripp adds with a smile.

I wouldn't mind seeing a straggler or two, Gemma counters. I'd like to see another human being.

Be careful what you wish for, Stone warns, his tone laden with caution.

The silence hangs heavy in the air, almost unnaturally so. Even the faintest whisper seems to carry for miles on the wind. It could be just our imagination, or perhaps there's something more to it. We can't afford to take any chances, though. Revealing our location could have dire consequences if we were to be captured by the Canadian army. Would we have to fight our way out? And in doing so, would we be forced to expose our true nature as wolves?

Twenty minutes later, we veer off the road and venture into the cover of the trees. I'm going to transform and scout the area, Stone decides. I'll run ahead about ten miles and check for any signs of people.

And traps? Tripp inquires.

Of course, Stone replies with a smile. I'll be back in approximately thirty minutes.

What if you come across some food? Tripp asks.

What are you hoping I'll stumble upon, a live cow? A steak ready to be cooked?

That would be ideal, but even a large buck would suffice, Tripp responds.

How about a small doe? Stone suggests.

Tripp frowns. I don't care what you find. I'm hungry and need something besides the food in a biodegradable pouch.

My expression mirrors Tripp's. We all do.

Will it be safe? Ethan wonders.

The cattle back home was safe for consumption. We must assume the wild game is just as safe, Stone assures.

Stone wraps his arm around my waist. I'll be back soon, my love, he whispers in my ear before planting an affectionate kiss on my lips.

Hurry back, I whisper.

Stone releases me and steps back. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. As he exhales, the air around him shimmers. Within seconds, a white wolf stands before me.

You're smaller, I note with a grimace.

Yes, Stone replies telepathically.

You're barely larger than a wild wolf, Eli adds.

I tune into Stone's thoughts. I believe you're right, I respond before turning to the group. Stone believes it's the Gods' way of camouflaging us, a means to blend in with the others.

I'm not sure I like it, Tripp scowls. We need every advantage we can get. Smaller doesn't necessarily mean better.

We must avoid drawing unnecessary attention to ourselves, I explain.

Stone emits a low growl to signal his departure. Within minutes, he disappears into the depths of the forest.

Looking like an Arctic wolf in the mountains of Tennessee will definitely catch some eyes, Ethan chuckles, resuming our trek to the summit. I remember a documentary from a few decades ago about white wolves in Newfoundland. The locals believed those white wolves, said to have inhabited the region nearly a century ago, were long gone. But then, a couple living deep in the wilderness, miles away from civilization, claimed to have spotted a pair of white wolves from their back porch. No one could ever locate the wolves, and the legend continued.

Stone's laughter joins mine as I share the conversation with him. We were the two white wolves in the forests of Newfoundland for a few days. Rudy had taken Abby to the remote corners of the island for a reindeer hunting trip—a dream of hers. Stone and I had accompanied them, but we ventured too close to a cabin and exposed ourselves.

As if humans can tell the difference between a gray wolf, a red wolf, or an Arctic wolf. To them, a wolf is simply a wolf, Gemma groans. To them, we are nothing more than a threat to their elk hunts.

What do you know about wild wolves? Ethan smirks.

Grandpa Boone shared stories with me, Gemma smiles.

Grandpa? I gasp, realizing Boone is my half-brother.

He's married to my fourth great-grandmother, Gemma giggles. So, technically, he's my fourth great-grandfather.

Technically, I smirk. Our family tree seems to loop back on itself repeatedly.

So, technically, you are my almost grandmother-in-law and my great-aunt by marriage only.

Not the first time something like that has happened, Tripp laughs.

How far have we gone? Geni asks, clearly uninterested in the conversation.

Maybe a mile, if that, Tripp groans impatiently. We need to pick up the pace.

We must reach the summit by day's end, Ethan nods. I'd like to find a suitable camping spot before nightfall.

Geni growls in discontent. I despise sleeping outdoors. It's just too damn cold.

Then transform into a wolf to sleep, Ethan impatiently suggests. Had you been raised as a wolf, you'd understand these things.

Are you implying my mother wasn't a good mother? Geni growls, her anger mounting.

You know that's not what I meant, Ethan barks.

And where were you? Geni asks, her anger escalating with each word.

I didn't know. You know that!

Enough! I command, fed up with their ongoing quarrel. Consider that a direct order. I'm tired of this bickering. Gwen chose not to tell Ethan she was pregnant.

And now she's dead, Geni slumps, tears welling in her eyes. You did nothing.

Staying would have shattered her heart, Ethan replies. I couldn't be the man she wanted me to be.

Leaving broke her heart, Geni retorts. She loved you, but you were in love with a memory. You abandoned us.

Enough, I repeat, exasperated by their relentless argument. Decisions were made. Hearts were broken. People died.

People? Geni nearly screams. She was my mother.

We continue our ascent up the mountain. It's nearly an hour before Stone returns. The path is clear, he informs us as he reverts to his human form. We can set up camp for the night and continue heading east in the morning.

And then what? Gemma asks.

We search for people, I propose. They have to be out there somewhere.

All I smell is death, Gemma replies.

I sense it, too, Geni nods. It's distant, but I can smell it.

I believe we'll find the source of that smell tomorrow, Stone reveals. The stench grew stronger the further east I went. We need to locate the origin. I also think it will bring us closer to unraveling the purpose of our mission.

So, death will lead us to answers while we freeze in these mountains? Geni growls.

It's merely a theory, Stone shrugs.

It's a grim theory, Geni counters.

As we reach the halfway point of our ascent up the mountain, exhaustion begins to take its toll on all of us. After another grueling day of hiking, our bodies ache, and our energy is drained. We know we are nearing our destination, but the prospect of taking another step feels insurmountable. We have no choice but to halt again, seeking respite for the night.

Chapter 4

Gracey

After awakening from our brief rest, we mustered the strength to trudge onward, covering an additional five miles. Fatigue clung to us like a heavy cloak, but we persevered in our search for answers. And then, finally, we stumbled upon what we had been hoping to find—a camp. However, it was no ordinary refugee camp. It resembled more of a POW encampment, enclosed by menacing barbed wire and guarded by the Canadian army.

The sight before us left us stunned, rendering us speechless. Silent thoughts swirled within our minds, a chorus of disbelief and apprehension. The tension was palpable, weighing down upon us all.

What do we do? Tripp's voice broke the silence, filled with frustration and uncertainty.

Yet, no one could offer an immediate response. We were all grappling with the same question, unsure how to proceed.

We need more information, I finally interjected, breaking the deadlock. We must uncover who these people are and understand the purpose behind their presence. Why have they imprisoned Americans? And why have they kept them alive?

A heavy silence followed my words, a shared realization that the answers we sought were not readily available. I turned my gaze toward the eastern mountains, where the first rays of sunlight danced across the summit. The sky adorned itself with vibrant yellow, orange, and red hues—a breathtaking sunrise. I silently prayed that this spectacle was not an ill omen, recalling the lessons from my Sunday School days.

Startled by the sudden rustling in the woods behind us, our bodies tense, ready to react. Tripp's well-trained instincts kick in instantly, his crosshairs aimed at the approaching figure. But before any harm can be done, I recognize the familiar face and intervene.

No! I urgently shout, my voice cutting through the tension. I know him. That's Noah, Rayne's cousin.

Confusion and suspicion lingered in the air as Stone voices the question in everyone's mind. What are you doing here, Noah?

Noah's eyes meet Stone's, his expression a mixture of weariness and determination. Trying to find a way to rescue my grandson.

The revelation hangs heavily in the air, a weight that matches the gravity of the situation. I glance around, realizing the absence of Noah's pack, the Heaths. Concern fills my heart as I inquire further.

Barbara? And the rest of the Heaths? I ask, my voice filled with trepidation.

Dead, Noah reveals with a heavy sigh. "Our pack lived just a few miles from the Canadian border. They were wiped out during the initial wave of attacks. I had been away on business in Boston, and when I returned, I found them all dead except for Heath. I couldn't