In the years since, though…
Before the Collapse, he’d sought isolation, hiding away on his homestead in northern Michigan. It was easier, safer.
And devoid of purpose, joy, or meaning, a voice in his head reminded him.
Here, he’d found all three. Here, he’d found Hannah.
“We made it home. That’s what matters.”
“They’re right,” Evelyn said. “You both have people who care what happens to you. Getting yourself killed in the name of honor doesn’t help anyone.”
She handed clean dressings to Hannah to finish binding Quinn’s palm and returned to Liam’s side. She unbuttoned his shirt and eased him out of it.
Cold air hit his chest, his skin pimpled with goose bumps. Old scars marred his torso—slashes from knives, circular white blemishes from a bullet or two, the raised nubs of shrapnel peppered across his bicep and left upper ribs.
Evelyn told him to lay back as she peeled the pus and blood-soaked bandages from his lower left side.
With a scowl, she pointed at the red pucker of his most recent gunshot wound. “You can die of an infection as easily as the next guy. You must allow yourself to heal. No more heroics.”
“Point taken,” Liam said. “But I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“What does that mean?” Perez asked.
“There’s more.”
“How can there be more?” Dave asked.
Reynoso kept his steady gaze on Liam, already expecting the worst. “Out with it.”
“The Sinclairs,” Liam said. “There’s another one.”
Hannah
Day One Hundred and Two
Hannah’s heartbeat thudded in her chest, her ears. Trepidation shot through her. “What do you mean?”
“They call him the General,” Quinn said. “Or at least, Sutter did. His name is Byron Sinclair. He’s Rosamond Sinclair’s father. And he knows about us.”
Everyone stared at Quinn in shock.
Her voice shook. “He knows we killed Rosamond.”
Though a propane heater warmed the room, a chill sucked the heat from Hannah’s body. For a second, everything went fuzzy and distant.
She inhaled a sharp breath and forced herself to remain present, to understand what this meant—the threat it presented to her family and her home.
“Can we even trust Sutter?” Reynoso asked.
“Sutter had no reason to lie,” Quinn said. “He was using the information to torture me. He didn’t think I was getting out of that place alive.” She raised her chin. “I did, though.”
Hannah dabbed the crusted blood from the side of Quinn’s face. Her hands trembled; she bit her lip and willed them to steady. She had to think, to remain clear-headed and focused. “What exactly did he say?”
“That the governor of Michigan gave him a small army. He’s supposed to go after some threat in Illinois—”
“Alexander Poe,” Liam said.
“—But he’s coming here first to get his revenge.”
“When?” Reynoso asked.
Quinn kept her gaze on the carpet. “Sutter said a couple of days, but who knows.”
Reynoso cursed.
“Who says we couldn’t try to reason with him?” Lee asked.
“Like how we reasoned with Rosamond?” Perez said. “That worked out so well.”
“Tell him we had nothing to do with his daughter’s death.” Lee flashed a guilty glance at Bishop. “No offense, Pastor. I know it’s a lie, but what else are we going to do?”
“None taken,” Bishop said. “I understand the need for deception when facing an enemy such as this. Except, I doubt it would work. All Southwest Michigan knows Fall Creek defeated the militia and put a stop to Rosamond. It’s no secret.”
Most folks assumed it was Liam who’d committed the act; it was Hannah and Quinn who had confronted the superintendent and come out the victors.
Hannah had seen no reason to correct them. Besides, Quinn had enough on her plate.
“We’re assuming he’s as bad as Rosamond was,” Lee said. “What if that’s a mistake?”
“What if he’s worse?” Bishop said. “Isn’t that more likely?”
Shen Lee hadn’t seen Rosamond for who she truly was. At first, he’d supported the militia, long after he shouldn’t have.
“Every member of that family was poison.” Hannah pinned her gaze on Lee. “Gavin Pike was a murderous psychopath. Julian, a scheming enabler. Rosamond, a selfish, manipulative tyrant.”
“It’s safe to assume that the poisoned apples didn’t fall far from the tree,” Bishop said. “If the General is the tree—”
“—then we’re facing a heap of trouble,” Dave finished, the blood draining from his face.
Hannah kept looking at Lee. Embarrassed, he dropped his gaze, his cheeks blooming red.
“We need to assume that he’s as much a threat as Sutter claimed he is,” Liam said. “Until and unless we receive actionable intelligence otherwise, we’re facing the gravest threat to our safety that we have yet encountered.”
Liam waved Evelyn away like an irritating wasp and sat up. Nonplussed, she slapped his hand aside and went back to work abrading his wound.
Hannah’s mind whirred. Her brain kept searching for a different explanation, for a way out. There wasn’t one.
“We thought it was finished with her,” Molly said, the slightest tremble in her voice. “It was supposed to be over.”
“Since the Collapse, nothing has ever been over,” Liam said.
Hannah shivered, suddenly cold. He wasn’t wrong.
Three and a half months ago, an EMP attack devastated the nation. A series of simultaneous, high-altitude nuclear detonations had caused an electromagnetic pulse that destroyed the power grid across most of the continental United States.
It had fried the electronic systems in vehicles, aircraft, laptops and phones, even many newer model generators.
Tens of thousands had died that first day. Cities were deluged with fires, explosions from fallen planes, and massive vehicular collisions.