Travis had mixed feelings about manning the watch post at the front gate. It was the most interesting of the posts because of the location, but the action he saw up there usually broke his heart. Discouraging people from thinking about coming inside the fence line was tough. Usually the business end of an M-16 did the job, but there’d been a couple occasions where they’d had to show how serious they were about protecting their own. Thank God they’d never been faced with turning women or children away, because Travis wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it.
With remains of the government and the military rising again in the last few months, and the rumors of the New Hope for America Work Corps camps trickling in through a few of their outside radio contacts, things were more dangerous than ever. Which was why the man approaching the fence line, hands in the air, rubbed Travis the wrong fucking way. He was wearing a uniform. Given the state of the military, that uniform might mean nothing—could be a left over from the Corps or a deserter from the new regime.
The man came closer, and Travis rested his finger alongside the trigger and sighted him in, positioning the guy’s head in the crosshairs of his riflescope. His trigger finger froze when he recognized the guy’s face.
With his other hand, he reached for the radio. “Command, I got an update on the uniform at the gate … I think I know him from our last tour in the Sandbox. He was a Gunny. Fuck, can’t remember his name though. Just remember the way he yelled.”
Jonah, Allison’s husband, replied, “No shit? I’ve gotta let G know. He’s gonna want to hear this.”
“Dude, he’s got a kid coming.”
Jonah replied, “From the way the screaming has quieted down to nothing, I’m thinking the kid’s here. He’ll fucking have my balls if I don’t tell him.”
“Fine, do what you gotta do. I’m going to get a closer look.”
“Your timing sucks ass, Richardson,” Graham said, as he met Travis and Jackson Richardson just inside the front gate.
“You know how fucking long I’ve been on the road to get here? I’m lucky I even fucking made it. They’re shooting deserters on sight these days,” Jackson growled.
“Still can’t believe you did it,” Travis said.
At Jackson’s sharp look, he raised a hand. “I’m not judging. I would’ve done the same thing. We’ve been hearing awful shit. Soldiers killing civilians who don’t go quietly into the camps. No fucking way I’d do it. Women and children? That shit ain’t right.”
“It’s way worse than you’ve heard, man. So much fucking worse. But that ain’t why I’m here. I’m here because I figured if anyone had news around here, it’d be you guys.”
“What kind of news you looking for?”
“I’m looking for a girl.”
“A girl?” Graham asked. “You lose someone?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It’s a long fucking story, but the gist of it is, she was snatched by some redneck fuckers about five miles away from here a few days after the shit hit the fan. I got shot, almost died. Would’ve died if the guy who’d found me hadn’t seen my dog tags and hauled my ass to the nearest military camp and handed me over. Took me all this time to recover and make my way back here. I’ve got nothing to go on, and no one in town has any clue what happened to her.”
Travis’s stomach churned at the story. He’d been shot. Five miles from here. The girl had been snatched by some redneck fuckers. Jesus.
“What’s her name?” Travis asked.
Jackson’s eyes shot to his, and the pain in them was real and vivid.
“Lia.”
Lia hummed as she set dinner on the table in the mess hall. The men were filing in. She was finally contributing to their little community—and it was gratifying.
The screen door cracked open, and Lia looked up. A smile stretched across her face instinctively at the sight of Travis, but faded when she couldn’t read whatever was reflected on his face.
“What’s wrong? Are Ro and the baby okay?” she asked.
“They’re fine. Little girl’s name is Mira. She’s healthy and beautiful.”
“Then what—?” Her words broke off when she saw the man standing behind him. Her legs turned to Jell-O, and she sank to her knees. “Oh my God,” she breathed.
“Lia, honey. Holy shit, you’re alive.”
“Jack. Omigod. Omigod.”
She pushed off the floor and stumbled to her feet.
They met in the center of the room, and he lifted her up and swung her around.
“Cannot believe you’re here. I’ve been looking for you, girl.”
“I thought you were dead. I thought…” Tears burst free and streamed down her cheeks.
For long moments, Cam stood beside Travis and watched as Lia bawled in her brother’s arms. He was happy as fuck the man wasn’t dead, but he wanted to dry her tears and make sure she never cried again. Screw the happy tears bullshit—no tears from Lia were good tears, in his opinion.
When Lia’s brother finally lowered her to the ground, she immediately threw herself at Travis. Cam didn’t even think, he stepped up and closed the circle around her, and they both held her while she laughed and cried some more.
The hard “What the fuck, man?” from Jackson had him lifting his head.