Her team was in position now, the EMP field traps set. Now we wait. Overhead, she imagined circling vultures. Probably drones, at least. She squinted, trying to make out shapes against the sheer ceiling of featureless night.

  “I miss stars.”

  She glanced over. Derek leaned back, eyes on the sky as well. It was a little sad, she thought. Not that Derek was devoid of sentiment, but she’d only known him in this broken world. They rarely talked about life before the impact. “Did you spend a lot of time outdoors before the asteroid? On deployment or something?”

  He smiled a little. “Of course. But mostly on base here or there. Too much light at night to see many stars. But when I was a kid, my uncle Ray would take me camping a few times during the summer. We’d always go somewhere remote. Tops of mountains, way off in national parks, that kind of thing.”

  He stretched his legs out. “Where you can see the arm of the Milky Way, and just millions and millions of stars. Even before all this, it had been a while. Looking up now I just… suddenly realize how long it’s been and how much I miss it. No idea how long the sky’ll stay like this. Could be a long, long time until I see them again.”

  The nostalgia was contagious, maybe. Lana found herself missing the old night sky as well. “Dad and I used to go on trips like that. Except, well, they were less about camping and more about survival stuff. We’d go out with just some knives and fishing line, and figure everything else out. Well… he always had some food and water, too, I guess, but it felt like we were fighting for survival. On clear nights, we’d sleep under the stars. I could stare and stare for hours before I fell asleep. Did your dad not like to camp?”

  For a while longer, Derek watched the sky before he lowered his gaze. “My… My dad died when I was a kid. When I was three. Car accident on the highway, high speed. Uncle Ray kind of stepped in after that, as much as he could.”

  Guilt crept into Lana’s chest. She hadn’t known that. Hadn’t asked about Derek’s family at all. He’d never brought it up and there had always seemed like more important, more life-or-death things to worry about. At least, before the last few days. “I should have known that. I’m sorry I never asked. Your mom?”

  She couldn’t see his face clearly enough to be sure, but he was quiet long enough that she thought it was pain she sensed coming off him. His voice was brittle when he answered her. “She lived in Virginia. North, by the ocean.”

  Lucky wasn’t a word that Lana would have used casually to describe her and her family’s situation since the asteroid struck—but that’s what it was, largely. Sure, her father was the sort that was hard to kill, and he had iron determination. Her mother was fierce when it counted, too, and both instilled a survivor’s instinct in her. But with all that had happened to them, it was a borderline miracle they were all still together and more or less in one piece.

  Derek hadn’t been lucky. He’d lost someone right away.

  “When this is over, we should trade stories,” she said softly. “Take the time to… I don’t know. Get to know each other or something.”

  He chuckled quietly in the dark. “I know you, Lana Machert. And you know me. In all the ways that count. But, yeah. We should give small talk a try sometime. When we’re not being shot at, or running from a crazy general, or driving through a tornado, or being chased by armed mercs—”

  “Okay, I get it,” she groaned. “I just mean I want to know you better.”

  “So do I.” For a while, they were both quiet. Watchful. It was either going to be a very long night, or a very short one. After a time, though, Derek spoke again. “My mom’s name was Cherith. She… had religious parents. My dad was Gary. Cherith and Gary Walker.”

  To hear their names, Derek’s parents, who were both gone now, felt heavy. As if he’d given them to her to protect, somehow. Names to remember if he didn’t make it through the Apex attack they all knew was hanging over their heads. “Thank you,” she told him. “I… I won’t forget.”

  “Mom would have liked you. She always said I’d need a woman who could—”

  In the distance, explosives echoed. Lana peered at the road, catching the faintest hint of a glow. All the sentimentality bled out of her as adrenaline replaced it. “That’s the roadblock.” She spoke loud enough to be heard by the entire team. “There’s a good chance they’ll come this direction. Hopefully on wheels, but possibly on foot. Either way, our people know to stay clear of the kill box, so if it moves it gets a bullet. Stay behind cover and remember not to look at the headlights before the EMPs go off. Every little advantage we have, we need.”

  From all around her, acknowledgments sounded as Derek sidled closer to her. “We’ll talk later, Lieutenant.” He pressed his forehead briefly to hers before backing away and slipping off into the dark. Much as they both wanted to stick close to one another for this, Derek needed to be at the other side of the line, providing more expert fire to keep the box closed.

  In a few seconds, he was out of sight, swallowed up by the night, and she had to force down the sudden worry that she’d just seen him alive for the last time. She could only imagine what her parents must be feeling. They’d be separated for the assault as well, and it was probably tearing both their guts out.

  With a deep breath, she settled into her position, dragged her attention to the here-and-now, and to the simmering fear winding her body tight until she vibrated. She leaned into it, embraced it. That wasn’t just ‘fear’ running in her veins—it was survival.

  It was a good five minutes before she saw the first lights, coming right toward them. And if there was any question whether Apex knew their locations, and whether that intel was current or not, it went away as the first volley of gunfire opened up. Rifles flashed from the sides of the vehicles, and bullets pinged off the rocky cover. Nothing concentrated; they couldn’t see exactly what the terrain was from that distance, but they definitely knew Lana’s team was there.

  In the distance, she heard the echoes of other gunfire, like fireworks going off on the Fourth of July. A relentless cadence of sharp pops filled the night.

  “Hold position,” she reminded her people, though she doubted anyone would run. “Stay down. They’re trying to cover their approach. With any luck, they don’t know about the traps.”

  At least, she hoped so.

  She peeked over the edge of her cover just long enough to get a sense of the line. The Apex vehicles were approaching slowly, carefully—but they were almost in the box.

  The first vehicle’s lights winked out. Another followed. The third swerved to avoid the two rolling to a stop, and that one went out as well as another EMP was triggered.

  “Hold,” she warned as the light of the headlights behind the dead SUVs cast enough of a glow that she could see her people getting restless, looking for a moment to fire. “Let them all in!”

  The other SUVs were blocked from moving further in—but that had been the design. They rolled up close and stopped as the people inside likely realized what was going on. Lana held back the order until she saw the vehicle in the rear start to pull back. “Hit it!”

  From the far end of the line, Derek gave a sharp whistle to signal his acknowledgment. A second later, the kill box was plunged back into darkness as the remote-triggered EMP devices staggered along the upper part of the corridor went off.

  “Open fire!” Lana ordered as she rose up from cover and took the best aim she could, firing into the cluster of SUVs.

  Bullets sparked off of vehicles. It was impossible to tell which were hers, but she heard glass break and agents begin to shout at one another over the din of fire, now that radio comms were down among them. Within a few seconds, they’d mustered enough to return fire, but her people had the high ground. Not by much, no more than ten or twelve feet, but it was enough to give them the better angle.

  And once they started, Lana had targets to aim for.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CALEB

  Springfield, CO

  Tuesday July 31st, 10:11 pm MST

  Caleb stood at the top of the west gate tower, kneeling behind a wall of wood and scrap metal, watching the distant flashes of gunfire where the ambush points had been engaged. Muzzle flashes inched closer and closer to the walls as the teams there attempted to disengage and pull back. Fewer and fewer from this side of the engagement were visible. They were losing people.

  At the very least, though, they’d sent Apex into disarray. There was still one set of headlights visible in the dark, but the others had gone out when Samuels’ people set off their EMPs. If only a handful still had comms, it wouldn’t benefit the rest of them, and would only create more chaos.

  The man next to him muttered a curse. “We’re getting slaughtered out there.”

  Caleb resisted the urge to reassure him. Jacob was one of Samuels’ newer recruits who’d signed up after the vote. Before this, he’d never fired a gun. Not the ideal partner for a sniping position, but he didn’t need glasses and said he could see alright in the dark.

  “Everyone knew we’d lose people.” Jacob didn’t need sugar coating. He needed anger, to stave off the fear. “They’re retreating, pulling them closer. Into range for those of us here at the wall, and by then there’ll be fewer of them. A fight like this is about whittling down the larger force. They’re doing that.”

  Jacob’s fists clenched around his rifle. “Yeah but… I… I didn’t think it would be like this. I—!”

  Caleb flinched as well as something pinged off their cover. A stray bullet, most likely. The town was dark now, completely. No one out there could see them, or likely even tell how far away the walls actually were. “You’re alright.” He reached for Jacob to clap him on the shoulder. “Just a little spillover. But they’re pulling back faster. Think about all the people in here, okay? All the unarmed ones who can’t defend themselves. You got family here?”

  “My brother.” Jacob nodded. “Cameron.”

  “Is he on the force?” Caleb pressed.

  Jacob shook his head. “Too young. Fourteen.”

  “Okay. Focus on him. On who you hope he grows up to be. On how close you are—are you close?”

  “We didn’t… used to be,” Jacob said, a note of regret in his voice. “Then our place got wrecked by one of the early storms… our parents were out of town. We couldn’t stay there, so we had to get moving and… yeah. We’re close. Now, anyway.”

  “Every shot you fire,” Caleb told him, squeezing his shoulder tight, “is a shot that keeps Cameron safe from these people. Every shot is a chance to get out there and find your parents, if they’re still alive. Make them count.”

  Jacob’s body shook slightly as he gave a vigorous nod. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yes, sir.”

  Caleb gave him another brief squeeze before looking out over their cover to find the line much closer. The back end, their people, were spread out too thin. The muzzle flash coming from Apex’s line was more cohesive, more organized. They might not have had easy communication, but they clearly had a strategy.

  “They’re close,” Caleb muttered. “Be ready. Should be just about—”

  IEDs hidden in the dark exploded, somewhere between the security units and the line of Apex agents, briefly lighting up the night. It was hard to say how many had been hit, but for a few seconds he could see Samuels’ people sprinting back toward the walls. Another set exploded in answer, further to the south, hopefully shattering the Apex line there.

  That was the last of the major obstacles between Apex and Springfield. Unless they were remarkably lucky—and Caleb doubted they were—the next phase of the engagement was about to hit the town. He almost radioed to check on Lana and Elizabeth, but all that would do was distract him.

  He readied his rifle instead, training it westward. Every shot is a chance for Lana to have a future. Every shot is a chance to see Liz again.

  “Get up,” he told Jacob, his voice hard. “Take aim.”

  “At what?” Jacob complained as he positioned the barrel of his rifle on the wide groove atop their cover and looked pointlessly through the scope. “I can’t see anything.”

  “That’ll change,” Caleb murmured. “Be ready when it does.”

  Though he gave a skeptical grunt, Jacob readied himself at Caleb’s direction. Then they listened, and waited. At the other side of the main gate, in the tower that was a twin to this one, two other riflemen waited as well, probably just as tense about keeping their fingers off the triggers of their weapons until the right moment. Firing in the dark would have been pointless even if the Apex line wasn’t well out of easy range. As they closed in, though, the sounds of boots on the pavement made it tempting. It certainly was for Caleb.

  But if they could wait just a little while longer…

  Some chatter from the Apex line became audible—team leaders issuing orders, having to speak up instead of using radio comms—and Caleb trained his aim toward the sound. Come on, he willed Diego down below, we can’t wait for them to hit the gate. What’s the problem?

  Muscles taut with anticipation, he strained to listen for the sound of a generator starting. If his plan didn’t work, and Apex managed to get through the gate, they’d lose the few precious advantages they had.

  From the corner of his eye, he caught the barest twitch of movement from Jacob. “Don’t,” he warned. “One shot, they’ll see the flash, and they’ll open fire on us. Just wait.”

  Jacob let out a rough breath. “I think I’m gonna piss myself.”

  “Do it, then,” Caleb muttered. “You wouldn’t be the first. Just be ready to fire when—”

  With no more warning than a mechanical growl and a relieved hoot of excitement from Diego at the base of the tower, the generator coughed, then roared to life. In front of the gate, a row of flood lights blazed in an instant, revealing a dozen or more clumps of Apex agents who almost all flinched back at the sudden intrusion.

  “Now!” Caleb snapped.

  The first few seconds were the most critical. All along the wall, rifles opened up on the disoriented soldiers below. Caleb tracked one, fired twice, moved to the next. He managed to hit four before the entire battalion scrambled to avoid fire. Two units in the back had dragged portable cover with them, and began to set it up in a panic, one of them waving frantically at the others.

  Caleb pulled his radio free, already tuned to the channel for the western entrance. “All alpha units fire on that cover,” he ordered, “don’t let them set it up.”

  After a few second delay, the ground near the two units sparked and puffed with fire. The Apex agents responsible began to work double-time, but two went down. Caleb steadied his rifle in its cradle and ignored the burning ache in his shoulder as he lined up a shot at one of the agents giving orders. The first shot missed and the agent began moving. The second shot took his leg, though, and the third hit him somewhere hopefully fatal in the chest.

  Between five shooters on the wall tasked with it, they managed to take down one of the two units. The other just managed to get the two walls and the angled upper plate propped up, and immediately dropped behind it, nearly vanishing from view. Caleb took a few shots at exposed shoulders and knees, but the weakness in his shoulder was starting to make his aim shaky even with the support of the cradle.

  Still, the area was littered with fallen Apex agents. They were carving the force down. He turned his attention briefly to the agents rushing toward cover, where only six or so were likely to fit comfortably. Two more black-clad agents dropped. Others went down as his line kept up their staggered fire. But a handful of agents were getting back up, hit in places too armored to take them down.

  One of the lights burst. Then another. The surviving agents were less frenetic now, more focused, taking out the lights that gave the wall team a clear view but blinded anyone. Cover fire sprayed across the upper edge of the wall, more concentrated now. From down the line, he heard someone give a shout of pain, and then begin to scream.

  Another light went out, and another. Caleb aimed, shot. Another agent down. And another. It was a race at this point. No one expected that they would be able to mow down several dozen soldiers before they got wise and shot the lights out. But that wasn’t the point. The point was to carve out as much of the battalion as possible before they inevitably breached the gate.

  “Oh crap,” Jacob said. “Wh—what’s that?”

  “Where?” Caleb demanded, sweeping his sight across the remaining agents. They’d taken down maybe half of them. Not nearly enough.

  “At the back,” Jacob said, firing twice. “The—the… barricade thing!”

  Caleb reoriented and had about half a second to recognize a sleek, unfamiliar ground-to-ground missile unit being aimed at the gate. He got off a single shot before there was a flash of ignition, and a trail of burn-off as the missile launched.

  He didn’t even have time to order his line to take cover before the thunder of the explosion struck. There was a flash of white as the concussive force struck him, and an instant, bone-deep ache as his body was squeezed by it. Shrapnel peppered his right side, adding a spray of fiery pain as he hit the floor of the tower.

  The guard tower lurched in warning, the platform’s rear dropping almost a foot. Caleb twisted around and reached for the wall at the front with one hand as he snatched at Jacob’s collar with the other. He managed to grab them both just as the tower collapsed from beneath them.

  For a few terrible seconds, time slowed as they dangled off the side of the wall. There was an awful, wet pop in Caleb’s injured shoulder. Numbness shot to his fingers.

  And a second later, they slipped free.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO