A split second later, the screams of men, women, and children filled the air as the group scattered, scrambling to get away. Chaos enveloped the area.

  Derek fired. Caleb tracked the two soldiers to his left and squeezed the trigger twice. One of them went down, the other managed to take cover behind the remains of a tree, broken where the wind had cracked it in half. He laid down suppression fire, almost catching one of the civilians as he ran.

  Caleb cast a quick glance to the right, registering that one of the skinny privates was down. Derek moved, heading for cover. Some of the civilians were on the ground, unmoving—either shot, or paralyzed by fear.

  Whatever the case, Caleb couldn’t think about them. He spotted movement at the edge of the tree, and fired again. Chunks of the trunk exploded, exposing white pulp as bark and splinters sprayed outward. He pushed off his back leg and kept firing in short, erratic bursts until he managed to gain cover behind a large hardwood.

  The night lit up. Blinding white flashed in the air, accompanied a split second later by a crack of thunder so deep and loud it rumbled through his bones. His ears rang, but it didn’t matter. He was focused, calm, in control.

  Caleb leaned out, spotted his target. The rifle jerked against his shoulder, but he barely heard the discharge.

  Bits of wood peppered his cheeks and forehead and he flinched away. The other man’s rifle sent a hail of bullets up the tree and over Caleb’s head as he fell back. There was no time to confirm the kill. He twisted around, leaned out from the other side of the tree to get eyes on the others.

  Derek was posted behind a short, squat rock that jutted up from the ground, huddled down to a space that couldn’t have been much bigger than a large moving box. The rock was pockmarked with fresh wounds. One of Warren’s men had him pinned, peppering the rock with short, tight bursts as he stepped out of cover to approach.

  Caleb took aim and fired. The soldier jerked violently away and struck a tree, rattled but not injured. Derek rose and fired from behind the rock with an unfocused and panicked spray of bullets. The soldier slumped, slid sideways and dropped to his side.

  Caleb swept the area, counting. Two near him. Two behind where the civilians had been. One at the tree, one between him and Derek.

  One was missing.

  He dropped to a knee and listened. Who didn’t he see? His eyes went to Derek, now crouched once more, the barrel of his rifle swinging slowly as he searched the area. Caleb steadied himself, eyes alert, straining to hear past the high-pitched ringing in his ears.

  The sky flashed again. A broad, almost slow fork of blue-white spider-webbed across the sky before it lanced the earth. Light boiled inside the clouds. A peal of thunder followed. Something wet and freezing struck his brow.

  Movement. A spot of darkness to his right. He swung around, brought the rifle up, almost pulled the trigger, but stopped himself in time to see the stunned, wild-eyed face of one of the civilians.

  “Down!”

  He only barely heard it, but the sharpness in Derek’s voice told Caleb’s body to move before he had time to process it. He dropped to his side, intent on firing on the next thing he saw moving. Muzzle flash lit the darkness. A figure fell to the ground over his head, and he craned to see the silhouette of a radio pack lit by another lightning strike.

  Seven. That was all. Caleb pushed himself up and visually swept the area one last time before he moved to join Derek.

  Derek slumped against the rock he’d taken cover behind, his rifle sagging between his knees. He stared at the ground, panting hard, blinking rapidly. When Caleb knelt beside him, the kid didn’t look up or even seem to notice he was there.

  “Private,” Caleb said, quiet but firm. “Derek. Look at me, son.”

  Derek lifted his face, but his eyes failed to stick to one spot. “W-what… what did you do that for?” he breathed. “What did I… Lieutenant Warren… Barton and Ramy… I… what did I do?”

  Caleb glanced around at the bodies. Here and there, some of the civilian group were moving. Some coming closer, others kneeling by fallen friends or maybe loved ones. Maybe even strangers they’d barely known. Not all of them had survived the crossfire, but it looked like the casualties were only a few.

  “You’ve saved these people.” Caleb placed a hand on the back of Derek’s neck and gave him a gentle shake. “They were going to die, and we saved them. You made the right choice, son.”

  Derek shook his head and pulled away. “No—you don’t understand,” he rasped. “The general—we’ll be executed. Lana will be… oh, God, it’ll be my fault.” A string of incoherent curses followed, and Caleb gritted his teeth.

  Gentle and firm wasn’t cutting it. Caleb grabbed the kid by a fistful of shirt and hauled him up to his feet. He’d have to do this the hard way.

  “Look at me, soldier,” he snapped. Caleb waited for the private’s eyes to focus on his. “I’ve got Lana taken care of. She and her mother have a way out. I made sure of it before I left them. Had a feeling this… wasn’t going to go well. But we’re on a tight schedule.”

  As if in emphasis, the sky lit again with an immediate boom of thunder. Freezing rain splattering Caleb’s face. A drop trickled into his eye. It burned.

  He let Derek go, slapping at his eye as if he’d been stung. He growled out a curse and pulled the hood of his jacket up. Derek did the same. They had to move.

  Caleb looked around at the civilians and saw them covering their own heads with packs or raised jackets and hoods. “Hey!” he barked at the closest one. “You. Come here.”

  The skinny woman turned this way and that, convinced he couldn’t mean her. After a moment, she stepped cautiously forward, eyes trained at the ground. “T-thank you,” she stammered. “For…” A sob cut off the rest.

  There was no time to soothe her. Caleb got to the point. “There could be more men coming. Get the survivors back down the mountain, out of the way.”

  She shook her head, meeting his gaze for the first time. “We can’t travel in this.”

  “Why?” Derek asked.

  “It’s acid,” she told him. “It’s been pouring down out east, coming this direction. We need to get into cover.”

  The only cover anywhere nearby was the base. Caleb grunted and rubbed at his eye again, trying to work out what to do. He looked around the scene. The rain fell faster, splattering loudly on his hood. “Alright, look,” he said, and pointed to Warren’s fallen body. “Anyone who can hold a rifle, point it, and shoot it—get them a gun. The base is that direction”—he pointed up the mountain—“but it’s not safe yet. There’s someone else out here, they took out some of our people.”

  The woman nodded. “I know. Some… people—we don’t know them. They found us in Bina, told us to come along behind them. They said they’d clear the way for us.”

  The missing piece of the picture snapped into place. “Did they, now?” he wondered. He glanced at Derek. If the private had put it together as well, it didn’t show on his nearly blank expression.

  They’d gotten radio chatter about the group. These people were a distraction. Whoever had killed Beta unit—and maybe others—were still elsewhere on the mountain. “Any idea how many of them there were?”

  She shook her head. “We just saw two of them. They didn’t tell us anything more than that.”

  “Military?”

  Again, she shook her head, adding in a shrug. “I’m sorry, I… if they were they didn’t say, and I wouldn’t be able to tell by looking. We were just relieved someone was going to help us get across. More people are coming—a lot more. The coast… it’s Hell.”

  She pulled her jacket closer. “There’s no food. Tidal waves came, one after another, with the earthquakes. Everyone who survived is coming this direction. We don’t even know one another very well. We just kind of… ended up together. We were afraid to come over the mountain. Some people came up, and… managed to get away.”

  But still, they’d tried to come now. Caleb spared a glance at his watch. 19:50. Not much more than an hour before he needed to have the back entrance to the base cleared. It would take only a little less time than that to get there. But he had to know. “Why did you come this way?” he pressed. “Why not cross further south? Or further north?”

  The woman laughed bitterly. “North of here is just as bad as the coast. There’s at least one with us who came down. There are still fires, there hasn’t been as much rain. And south? People say there’s some kind of… I don’t know, a militia, or a cult, or something.”

  Caleb groaned to himself. So—north was out, south was out, east had already not been an option. That only left west. Well, at least he knew.

  He hefted his rifle to hold it across his stomach, lowered but ready. “Arm some of your people,” he told her again. “Don’t follow too close. Don’t engage if you don’t need to. Stay low, try to stay out of sight. But defend yourself if you must. These people will shoot on sight.”

  She gave a shaky nod and watched him and Derek both as they withdrew.

  Caleb looked at the private, assessing whether he was in any shape to help.

  As if he could feel the question, Derek glanced at him. “I’m good.”

  “You sure?”

  Derek’s jaw hardened, his eyes cleared some, and he exhaled a steady breath. “I’m good for duty, Staff Sergeant.”

  Maybe it helped the kid to identify Caleb as his C.O. Gave him a sense of certainty. Caleb had missed that himself at times. Maybe that was why he’d been so willing to look past things that now seemed like loud warning bells since they’d been brought into the base.

  That changed now, he promised himself. Time to stop thinking there’s any semblance of normal to get back to. From now on, it’s just me, Lana, and Elizabeth. Everyone else is a potential threat.

  It was the only sure way.

  He clapped Derek on the shoulder. “Let’s get moving, Private.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  RAY

  Outside Lansing, NC

  Friday, June 18th, 7:50 pm EST

  The patter of gunfire echoed between bursts of thunder. Ray froze and listened. Jake hunched low to the ground. Semi-auto, three burst shots. Not hunting rifles.

  A droplet of rain landed on Ray’s hand and pain welled at the site. He pulled his hood up and jabbed Jake with an elbow. “It’s raining, dummy.”

  Jake wouldn’t look at him.

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  Jake stared past him. “Those people. The… the guns; those were military. They… they killed ‘em, you think?”

  Ray shrugged. “Your point?”

  They hadn’t known those people, hadn’t even met them—Gun and Ryder had convinced them to come up. He gave Jake a shove to shake him out of whatever guilt thing he had going on.

  “Now all those military types think they solved the problem. They’ll relax for a bit. This is what was supposed to happen, remember?” He nudged him again. “They was just a bunch of idiots who wouldn’t have made it over the mountains anyway. This way, they died quick. Better than starvin’ and freezin’ to death.”

  “I guess.” Jake didn’t look convinced.

  Whatever. Jake was too sensitive. Always had been. Still, the last thing he needed was for his right-hand man to get trigger shy now. He gripped Jake’s jacket near the neck and pulled him around to face him. “Look at me,” he demanded.

  Jake blinked against the rain pelting the lower part of his face as he looked up. “We gonna have a problem? Because we’re about to kick the nest, and I can’t have you all choked up about some idiots you didn’t even know. Lots of people are dead, Jake. You ain’t all screwed up about them, are you?”

  “I…” Jake’s jaw snapped shut, his eyes dropping.

  Ray rolled his eyes. “Brother, you wanna mope and be all depressed and weepy; fine.” Ray let him go, gave him a hard enough shove that Jake had to step back to catch himself, then jabbed a finger at his friend’s chest. “Do it on your own time. Right now, you better pack that business up, bury it somewhere deep enough it’ll smell like crap tomorrow, and keep your eyes on the prize. Don’t wimp out on me now.”

  Jake rubbed his chest where Ray had jabbed him and managed a nod. When he spoke, his voice was at least a little firmer, like he’d picked his balls up off the ground and reattached them. “Yeah, Ray.” He licked his lips. “I hear you. I got your back.”

  “Good,” Ray grunted. He looked north, toward where the base had to be. “Eyes and ears, and gird your loins. Place has gotta be close by. Move.”

  Another peal of thunder followed them up the slope, lightning crackling in the clouds above, as the rain fell harder.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  LANA

  Horse Creek Base, New United States

  Friday, June 18th, 7:55 pm EST

  No one ever looks at you when you’re working. Stay calm. Don’t be an idiot.

  Lana steeled herself as she knocked on the armory door. The key card dug into her hip where she’d taped it to her skin next to the spray bottle, but she dared not use it. Not yet. The armory was always guarded.

  Please be some new guy. She crossed her fingers and waited. After a moment, the door opened halfway. An unfamiliar face stared her down, frowning and suspicious as he took in the lack of rank insignia and name tape—a sure sign of civilian staff. “What is it?”

  Lana tugged her mop and bucket into view. “Janitorial.” She plastered on a smile.

  He wasn’t amused. “There’s no janitorial this late.”

  Lana dipped her head. “Yeah, I know. It’s supposed to be 0800 hours tomorrow. You can check the schedule. Lana Machert.” She flicked her eyes up and ran her teeth over her lower lip. “There’s not much traffic overnight and I need some time off in the morning.”

  “Not my problem.” The door began to close.

  “Man, come on.” She groaned and lowered her voice. “Look, I’m… I’m about to start my flow. I get cramps in the mornings, and there’s barely any tampons in supply so I’m gonna be bleeding through my uniform and—“

  “Gross, stop,” the soldier grunted. Instead of shutting the door in her face, he paused and looked her over, considering. An altogether different expression congealed on his face as his eyes raked down her body. “You get extra horny before your period? I had a girlfriend who was like that.”

  No freakin’ way. Lana shoved down the disgust and resisted the urge to cringe. She looked the soldier over slowly, cleared her throat, and glanced back down the hall.

  “Look—I gotta do my work, and I don’t have a lot of time.” She bit her lip and lowered her voice. “But… I do have to come back this way after. Your shift runs until 02:00?” He could think whatever he wanted. She didn’t mean a word of it.

  The soldier’s lips curled. “03:30.” He stepped back to open the door. “Come on in, sweetheart.”

  Bingo. She pushed the bucket into the room with the mop handle. “It won’t take me long.”

  If it had been one of the two guards she’d already shot down, this never would have worked. But this guy? Easy peasy. She waited as he returned to his desk by the door and smiled again as she pulled the mop free to slop bleach and water onto the floor. She’d used a lot more than the usual mix and the fumes stung her nose immediately.

  The guard noticed right away, too, rubbing at his own nose as the smell broke the mood. He barked out a cough and picked up a book left half open on the desk.

  Satisfied he was engrossed in the book and no longer watching her, Lana moved around behind him, slopping more water onto the concrete floor, intentionally loud enough to get his attention if he was being vigilant. No movement. No acknowledgment. Good.

  The camera above the desk pointed at the door, not at the corner behind the desk. She glanced up at it once just to be sure, and didn’t see the tell-tale blinking light in the dark little blister looking at her. Now or never.

  With her eyes on the back of the soldier’s head, Lana reached under her uniform top and retrieved the spray bottle full of ammonia she’d tucked into the top of her pants and taped to her stomach. The tape came away with minimal noise and she sloshed the water in the bucket again to cover it up. She twisted the top off while she hugged the mop handle.

  She sucked in as deep a breath as possible and held it as she poured the ammonia into the bucket. Five, four, three, two… She kicked hard and the bucket fell over, bleach and ammonia sluicing across the concrete. She danced away from it and toward the guard, bumping into him.

  Startled, the guard looked down at the sloppy mess and lifted his boots briefly before he cursed and shook his head. He elbowed her away from him and toward the desk and Lana seized the opportunity, grabbing the radio and shoving it into her pocket.

  The soldier muttered a string of curses in her direction. “You better not have gotten bleach on my pants.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” Lana said quickly, and set the mop aside as she hastened around the water and toward the door. “I need to grab something to clean this up. I’ll be back.”

  He sighed and rolled his eyes before hitting the button on the wall beside the desk to buzz the door open. By the time Lana was through and back in the hall, her nostrils burned from the mixing of the fumes.

  As the door shut, she tugged the key card free and turned to the keypad. With the cancel and enter buttons pushed, she swiped the card over the reader. She’d seen people locking doors this way before. At least, she was pretty sure that was what they’d been doing. A second later the pad gave a plaintive beep-beep and Lana sagged in relief.

  The room was small and not well ventilated at this time of night when the air pumps were off. She’d mixed at least a gallon of bleach and ammonia. It will work. It has to.

  Sixty seconds came and went. The guard pounded on the other side. His voice was muffled, undecipherable. Was anyone watching on the camera? Listening in the hall?

  She spun. No one. A series of violent strikes followed. Lana listened—not just to the door, but for any commotion in the hallway.