“My son,” she said. “We got separated. I haven’t been able to find him…”
Hannah gave her an encouraging smile. “We’re making a list of survivors. Remember, there’s also the middle school bomb shelter and the one at town hall. And those who hunkered in their basements. As soon as we know more, I’ll tell you. I promise.”
Stacey hugged the blanket to her chest. “Thank you. For everything.”
She was shaken herself. Devastated, grief-stricken, hounded with worry for Liam and Bishop. She refused to give in to it.
Her family and friends needed her. These people needed her. She would do everything in her power to help them, soothe them, and keep their spirits up.
As a leader, she had a responsibility.
And Hannah had never shirked responsibility in her life.
Hannah moved on to the next traumatized survivor, and the next, offering words of comfort and encouragement.
It was surprising how little it took to ease a stricken heart—a smile, a kind word, a gentle touch. And seeing to their physical needs—a blanket for warmth, a little food, some water.
The gunfire outside the school stilled. Gradually, the fear pervading the shelter dwindled to a low humming dread. The room was tense but quiet, everyone holding their breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
After she’d run out of blankets and water, Hannah made her way across the room to Dave and Annette, who huddled beside the bomb shelter doors.
Both swayed on their feet, utterly exhausted.
Apprehension pushed her heart into her throat. “Have you heard from Liam?”
“I went topside a couple minutes ago to get better radio reception,” Dave said. “Those crazy daredevils did it. They crashed the damn chopper.”
“Oh, thank God,” Annette said.
Relief flooded her, her legs going weak. Hannah closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, releasing some of the tension knotting her insides.
Liam was safe. Bishop was safe. They did it.
“I’ll make the announcement in a minute,” Dave said. “We need to stay down here awhile longer. The reaction teams are clearing the town before they give the all-clear.”
Hannah shivered and hugged herself. “It’s still hard to believe they opened fire on American citizens, even after seeing it with my own eyes.”
“They labeled us terrorists. No evidence required.”
“How many have we lost?” Annette asked.
“Too many.” Dave’s eyes darkened with sorrow. “At least ten, including Molly.”
If Liam hadn’t sounded the alarm, giving them almost five precious minutes of advance warning, how many more might have perished?
The horror seeped in, deep in her bones. Despair was poisonous. She would not give in to it. She refused.
She would cling to hope with her dying breath.
Dave sighed, misery etched into his features. “We won’t know more until we can get out and assess the damage. But I’ve received a report that at least one strike hit Winter Haven’s solar substation. The most crucial hardened electronics were in that building.”
“What does that mean?” Annette asked.
“The substation connects the solar panels in the community. Without it, the solar panels won’t work. We may have lost Winter Haven.”
Annette blanched. “What are we going to do?”
“We don’t need Winter Haven,” Hannah said. “It was always the people that made Fall Creek something special. We have generators and can make our own biofuel. We can survive. We have each other.”
Annette took a shuddering breath. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Speaking of helping each other.” Hannah turned to Dave. “Can you get me Mick Sellers on the radio? And Flynn. I want to speak with them.”
“I’ll try, but with the repeater stations down, we’re struggling to get anyone far from town. They’re out of range.”
Annette grimaced. “We’re chasing our tails with the Alliance. I’m not sure anything will make a difference to them.”
“It has to,” Hannah said fiercely. “They’ve seen a glimpse of what Poe and the Syndicate can do. Now we’re facing a threat from our own military. If they can justify this, what else will they justify? I just pray the Community Alliance will finally see reason and join us. They need to know what happened here. If it can happen to us, it can happen to them.”
“Keep praying,” Dave said. “I fear that’s all we’ve got left.”
44
The General
Day One Hundred and Fourteen
“You’re fired!” Governor Duffield screamed into the sat phone.
With a wince, the General pulled his ear back. “I can explain—”
“I’ve received reports that you’re stuck outside some crappy town thirty miles from where you should be! Poe is amassing in South Bend. South Bend! A stone’s throw from Michigan, and what are you doing? Playing games with my men? Opening fire on American citizens? What the hell are you thinking!”
The General gritted his teeth. Someone in the ranks had snitched on him. The governor must have planted a sat phone or two amongst them to report on the General’s actions.
The man didn’t trust him as completely as the General had anticipated.
He hadn’t gotten to where he was by panicking prematurely. There was always another play. Check wasn’t the end of the game, only a minor setback.
Especially if you were willing to cheat.
With a calm he didn’t feel, he said, “I have evidence that they’re domestic terrorists plotting an anti-government agenda. They’ve already murdered a local politician—”
“I don’t care!” Governor Duffield said. “Those were not your orders! Do you hear me? You are disobeying direct commands!”
The General paced before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Lake Michigan glistened in the afternoon sunlight like a precious jewel. From here, he couldn’t see the tent-and-trash scattered beach or the huddled, dirty masses.
He caught a glimpse of movement in the reflection off the glass. He spun around, heartrate accelerating.