by Angela White
“Well, thanks buddy, but I’ve got it from here. You can hit the redline.”
Marc’s grin widened into sharp white teeth as the wolf lingered at his hip, dark fur on his back and tail bushed-out aggressively. “Welcome, pal, but a funny thing happened on the way here. I discovered I want to be with… other people, and I might just stick close for a while.”
Clearly taunting, Angela knew blood was about to flow and stayed out of it, waiting to see if Kenn would force his own death. Brady was eager and while she wasn’t, doing it now, while Kenn was alone, was best if it had to happen.
Marc took a step forward, bringing them to within inches of each other as the wind gusted through the dead corn. “Real close.”
Kenn’s eyes narrowed and his hairy knuckles inched toward the 9mm on his hip. “She has a man, you fucking Jody! Back off!”
Marc snorted, furious blue eyes full of contempt. “If you want to call yourself that.”
“What the hell's that supposed to mean, boot?” Kenn sneered threateningly, lightly-bearded face full of hate.
Marc put them chest to chest without hesitation, “It means she’s not your punching bag anymore! You wanna hit someone, grungeshit, you hit me!”
Kenn didn’t hesitate either, and he swung hard. The hit rocked Marc's head back and then the two men were at each other, trading vicious blows.
“Like that?” Kenn taunted, following the upper cut with a powerful roundhouse.
Marc ducked the blow, landed a nasty knuckle to Kenn’s temple that made the Marine stagger. “Yeah! More!”
Kenn rushed him, head slamming into his gut, and Marc immediately drove his elbow into Kenn’s shoulder blade.
Kenn jerked, grunting as he was rocked off his balance, and they hit the dirt with a hard thud, swinging, wrestling, trying to get the advantage.
Angela waved a hand at Dog to stay back as Marc pushed Kenn off of him with his legs and rolled onto his feet.
Kenn rushed, and Marc ducked again, foot flashing out at the last minute to trip him up.
The blow the jealous man had been throwing glanced off Marc’s wounded arm and Brady kicked him in the ribs as he went down, wound stinging from ripped stitches.
Kenn was on his feet in a blur, hand flying toward his hip, and both of Brady’s guns were out before the furious Marine could pull his own.
“Do it!” Marc goaded, fingers tightening…longing to squeeze. “Make it count. I will.”
Book Three: Safe Haven
Deleted Scene 1
12/21/2012
Granite Mountains Complex
Stunned, Press Secretary Pat Michaels sat in the back of the large, crowded room that was embedded under a dank maze of tunnels. Half a mile beneath a secret military base, the compound was now being overrun with terrified citizens demanding the protection they knew the Essex could (but would not) provide.
The limestone command center was thick with smoke and people, some of them in on the original testing of these weapons. Pat hoped his own punishment would not be as harsh as theirs. After all, they had known firsthand what a horrible thing had been created. It was so powerful, so unstoppable, that the America above them was about to be destroyed and a new, hostile world would take its place.
The slyest of presidential defenders since Nixon’s well-used man - Pat Michaels, former Press Secretary - was useless, forgotten in the chaos, and not even sure he should be here. His family had been in New Jersey... Someone had been with him when he got the news, had brought him along when they had evacuated from the Las Vegas convention-hall, although he wasn’t sure who it had been. Amanda, the kids! How would he go on? How would anyone?
Panic was rampant. Voices barked orders, people scrambled to get information, papers floated through the humid air, and satellite phones rang continuously, annoyingly. Thanks to an EMP and a lucky shot from a disgruntled citizen with a grenade launcher, the Vice President was dead. The Speaker of the House was now the legal recipient of the highest seat in the land, but she wasn’t here and neither was the new Secretary of State. No one had discovered where they had been evacuated to, or even if they were still alive. Those jobs were no longer in demand, and the result was chaos, fear in control. Maybe that would change later… if they survived the missile headed for Montana.
Deep and sturdy, this complex had been built secretly during the 1990’s and was not only untested, it was less than one hundred miles from what was about to be a direct hit. Pat shuddered. They would probably feel it.
Lurking near the back wall of air vents and panels, the Press Secretary broke out into a light sweat as one of the remaining clocks on the cold, sterile walls around him neared, and then passed, the five minute mark.
Washington, New York, and most of the East Coast had already been destroyed. Of the seven warheads that the long-denied Star Wars program hadn’t been able to shoot down, three were definitely going to find more U.S. targets and maybe two others that they had lost radar on as well. Their own warheads had decimated countries around the globe. Now, America would pay the price.
The huge, multi-picture screen in the front of the crowded room changed when the next clock hit four minutes, flashing to a satellite view of the incoming missile careening towards the Sunshine State, and Pat found he couldn’t look away.
Why, in God’s name, had the former President done this? And who had given the technology-challenged man the disk that would allow him such unforgiving control? Surely this was a bad dream? If not, millions more were going to die in only:
03:45
03:44
03:43
The computer went to full alert, alarms all over the vast compound warning of the impending arrival. The Press Secretary’s stomach churned as the ceiling lights began to flicker a hazy red.
America was in the same panicky state as this room, thanks to the convoys of soldiers taking all males, ages 10-60. Told to get a full truck of warm bodies any way they had to and be back within eight hours, gunfire was filling town after town. They had reports of it in nearly every major city across the country, soldiers and civilian wars over their sons and husbands and over remaining food and weapons. The end was close… and everyone felt it.
02:50
02:49
02:48
Would mankind survive? Had they really blown themselves up? How much of this new hell was he personally responsible for? Millions of lives were already gone… so many cultures, and their history!
01:20
01:19
01:18
Pat cringed at a freshly braying siren from the front of the loud, crowded, tactical room. They'd destroyed the world. Was that the red stain on his hands that refused to wash off?
00:40
00:39
00:38
When was my last orgasm? he wondered suddenly, too scared to recall what it had felt like or what the intern’s name had been. Greg? Gary?
00:25
00:24
00:23
When was my last confession? Pat struggled to remember, heart thumping wildly, stomach lurching. Did I mean it? Is it too late?
00:15
00:14
00:13
He closed his eyes and began the comforting, useless litany from his seat, still unable to make himself get on his knees even though the true hour of judgment had come.
“Please forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…”
00:02
00:01
00:00
“I did it for my country...”
Deleted Scene 2
“Everyone shooting must sign in. Only people that have passed the gun class can enter. Shooters will stay in front of the gate, everyone else behind. Sign in folks and let’s get started.”
Jeremy was the MC tonight, Neil’s second Eagle, and as Adrian stepped by, he again caught a whiff of perfume he now recognized as Cynthia’s, but said nothing. He wasn’t worried the Eagle would slip with anything he shouldn’t. Before the war, Jeremy had been a devout Cat
holic, quiet and observant. He knew the meaning of secrecy and he’d found his place here, something the church had been unable to provide. The guard would be careful with it.
There was standing-room-only in the bleachers, and a large crowd lined the gate as the shooters signed in, and checked their weapons. Adrian was glad to see no real fear, no desperation in the faces of his people. The watching crowd talked loudly, betting on their favorites as they sat in chairs in the sand or on thick blankets, and the men shooting waited behind the gate, eager to start.
“Okay. We have 29 shooters tonight,” Jeremy announced.
Adrian stepped over to the clipboard on the bales of hay. “Make that 30.”
The crowd cheered loudly and the other shooters groaned.
“First, Kenn Harrison.”
The sun was gone now, the night dark and gritty, but the moon’s outline, while not clear, gave some light and made people feel better just to be able to look up and finally find it in the sky. It was something they hadn’t seen much of for almost a hundred days. The area was still dim, but huge spotlights on top of the trucks lit up the ball field and roller-bound targets.
The ones set at 25 and 50 feet were hardly a challenge to the men watching his XO get set, but the ones at 100 and 125 were, and all the contestants knew they would likely be gone before round seven. He and Kenn had dueled it out last time, easily leaving everyone else behind. When they were shooting, no one else stood a chance.
“As many direct hits as you can, any target. On your mark.”
The Marine grinned, holding the gun steady against the gusty wind, accounting for it, and then he was firing smoothly.
The crowd cheered when the call came and the guards on the perimeter stayed alert, knowing the noise would carry.
“Eight bulls eyes! Next, Adrian Mitchell.”
The leader checked his weapon, and then put it back into his holster, letting his hand hang loosely like an Old-West gunslinger.
The newer people, who hadn’t yet seen him shoot, watched nervously, sure he would miss and prove he was as fallible as the rest of those who had tried to lead.
Adrian’s hand was a blur as he drew and fired, fired, fired. He twirled the black 9 mm a single time and slid it neatly into the holster on his hip.
“Eight bulls-eyes!”
The crowd roared and Jeremy had to shout to be heard as Adrian grinned, stepped over to Kenn.
“Next, Kyle Reece.”
No one missed a shot until the end of the round. Mary and Heather, two females he’d sent to the class for match-making purposes, didn’t get any bulls-eyes, but Adrian was pleased that they had hit anything at all. For the women here, that was definite progress.
The third woman, Lexa, was a gun shop owner from Los Angeles. Short, with a big chest and a long, brown ponytail, she hit half the targets, making Adrian wish he could add her to his list for the next Level One Eagles. Her draw was beautiful, almost a perfect copy of his, and with a little instruction, it would become as natural to her as breathing.
Adrian wondered if he would ever get his Eagles to accept women on the teams. He needed one of these shell-shocked females to be a warrior in disguise that could hold her own among his army and make the rest of the camp accept it too. For now though, it looked like Lexa was eliminated.
“Last shooter. Rebecca Ann Kelly.”
The cute teenager moved toward the line and Adrian frowned as the crowd cheered and catcalled. Had she made it through the gun class somehow without him knowing it? There was always a wait because he hand-filled over half the seats.
Adrian was almost certain she hadn’t, but instead of immediately calling her on it, the leader let her have one try, thinking again of how much he needed one of these timid homemakers to really be Xena, the warrior Princess.
Becky was innocent, sexy, playful, and many of his men were watching the slender girl, waiting for her sixteenth birthday in October, when it would be legal to ask her out. That included Kenn, but Adrian thought she had a thing for one of his other top guards. Either way, the girl would be something here. What, was up to her.
Rebecca’s reddish blond hair was wild with frizzy curls and she brushed it back impatiently as she took her place, knowing she would only have this one chance to get noticed, to show these men she was useful too. She’d almost swallowed her tongue when Adrian signed in, sure he’d see her name and single her out…
“Anytime you’re ready, shooter,” Jeremy encouraged, eager to get the next round started, and the nervous girl nodded. She was ready now and she wanted them to know, needed Adrian to know.
Feeling the magic, the confidence of holding a gun she knew she could use, Becky pulled the trigger gently, lovingly. The light recoil was well controlled and she was smiling as she aimed and pulled, lined it up and pulled again.
The bullets dug into the targets, and she turned her eyes to the frowning blond man moving her way, while the crowd waited for the call.
“Eight Hits, 5 bulls-eyes!”
They were as loud for her as they had been for Kenn, and she was grinning in satisfaction as the leader stopped next to her, eyes impressed and displeased at the same time.
“That’s some impressive shooting, Miss Kelly.”
She grinned, face lighting up at his words, and then she dropped her head, remorseful. She hadn’t broken his rules lightly. Now she would pay the price.
“I’m sorry.” She moved toward Jeremy without waiting to be told. “I have to withdraw.”
The Level Two Eagle frowned as the crowd muttered, and those who knew she hadn’t taken the class waited to see if Adrian would let her ruin her own chances here by owning up to it. If she admitted she cheated, it would be a label she’d carry forever.
“Why?”
“Because I…”
“She forgot she has a shift with the Vet. Right now, we’ll move onto the next round since we’re losing a shooter.”
Adrian’s calm words weren’t doubted and his men were pleased. If Becky had ruined herself tonight, they couldn’t show any interest in her, not without losing their place by Adrian, and that was now something most of these men would never jeopardize.
“Rebecca is eliminated. Kenn will start round two.”
Becky smiled gratefully at Adrian as she left, very thankful he’d chosen to stop her admission. His men weren’t the only ones who were aware of all she’d risked to be noticed.
“Three shots this time and only those beyond 25 feet count. Bottom two will be eliminated.” Jeremy looked at Kenn. “You ready?”
The Marine opened fire in answer.
Character Bios
Adrian Mitchell is a lifelong Marine with a huge secret, one that might have prevented the War. Full of guilt he can never be free of, Adrian is driven, obsessed with gathering enough survivors to restart his broken country.
Samantha Moore is a Storm Tracker. Born with a predictive gift that allows her to mentally track the weather, Sam led a sheltered life before the bombs fell, and her road to Adrian's camp is full of pain and horror as she struggles to adjust.
Angela White is many things: doctor, battered wife, mother, and Witch. She long ago locked up her powers to keep her man from using them for his own gain, but the War freed the Demon inside, and now it is her best defense as she tries to cross the broken country in search of her missing son.
Lt. Kenn Harrison is a Marine adrift when he joins Adrian's camp. An angry man with secrets, months of trials at Adrian's patriotic side have begun to change him, but what will happen to all the progress he's made when Angela finally comes for her son?
Sergeant Marc Brady has been in love with Angela since they were kids. Split up as teenagers, he had no idea they’ created a baby. He can't wait to get to know his son, but it's the thought of being with Angie again, that sends him running to answer her call for help.
Kendle Roberts is a famous TV star, but the survival goddess wasn't prepared for the wave that rolled her cruise ship and left her adrift on the
restless ocean with no land in sight. For two months.
John Harmon has been a doctor for over 40 years. Sure he has terminal Cancer, his wife pretends not to know, and they set off to find safety so one of them can die, and one of them can live.
All Angela White Titles
Life After War series
The Survivors
On The Road
Safe Haven
Adrian’s Eagles
Bachelor Battles Trilogy
To The Death
The Changeling
Flash Fiction
Twisted Shorts
Alexa’s Travels
A Prelude
Bone Dust & Beginnings
Upcoming Releases
The Network
The Killin’ Fields of Nebraska
Liberation
Summary of Book One, The Survivors
Samantha
After being taken from her Seattle office at gunpoint during the apocalypse, Samantha's chopper crashes and she is taken hostage by the Cruz brothers. Abused and hurting, to get her life back, she has to take theirs and learns a harsh lesson in survival.
Kenn/Cadet
Kenn and the cadet were missed in the evacuations and instead of heading home for the boy's pregnant mom, the Marine heads them for NORAD, sure the timid little woman he'd controlled for so long, couldn't have survived the end of the world. These two are picked up by Safe Haven Mobile Refugee Camp and the Marine quickly begins building himself a place among these strong survivors.
Angela/Brady
Angie lost her baby in the war and that pain forced her to face the awful truth. Without using her gifts, those forbidden powers that have kept her chained to Kenn for more than ten years, she will never see her teenage son again. Forced to wait for her body to heal before she can start her quest, Angie calls out to her son's real father, Brady. They are reunited in the post apocalyptic remains of Indiana and it's clear that the sparks are still there.
