by Angel Lawson
The two men go inside, leaving the rest of us on the porch. Wyatt collapses in a wooden slat rocking chair, sighing heavily. Jackson and Walker stand close to the window. Paul, Benjamin, and Cole hover at the edge of the porch. Cole looks strangely in place amongst our rag-tag team, as though he never abandoned us.
It’s been so long since we’ve been together—they missed the attack on the farmhouse all those months ago. They didn’t know I’d been kidnapped with Jane and the Mennonites. They didn’t know we thought Wyatt was dead or the Fight Club Cole and I endured.
And we have no idea what they’ve been up to at all except showing up with a powerful force we had no idea existed.
Hamilton never gave us his rank, but he carries himself with an air of dignity and power. I move closer to Walker and watch him through the window. He’s African-American, tall with broad shoulders. His thick but trimmed beard implies he’s had access to housing and good conditions. I notice his nails are filed and clean.
“We have so much to catch up on,” I say. “Things got really crazy right after you left.”
“I’m aware of some of it. Our intelligence is superior to anything we’ve had since the virus spread. But yeah, I’d love to hear your side of the story.”
“I can’t wait to find out where you’ve been for the last six months and how you found this guy.”
She grins but it’s weak and there’s something wary in her eyes. “Is everything okay?”
Wyatt’s chair creaks as he shifts to get a better view of the two of us. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s picked up on the weird vibe.
Her voice lowers and although I’m sure we are the only ones that can hear her, I know three others on this porch have super-hearing.
“Hamilton is a smart man. A Colonel in the Army. Lower-ranking than Erwin, with a history in bio-weapons, pre-virus. Thankfully, he’s smart and determined to get this country back on its feet.”
“Well that’s sounds awesome, right?”
“Sure.” Her eyes dart at the Mutts standing to the side. “If you’re human and meet the criteria he’s established. Hamilton wants every Eater, Hybrid, Mutt and any other variation rounded up and terminated.”
It sounds rational but it’s not. These are people we know. Hell, I may fall into the ’other variation” ‘category myself after taking the EVI-3.
“The Hybrids are dangerous, yes, but the Mutts, well, that’s not so easy,” Wyatt says. I’m surprised he’s coming to their defense. “Without the Mutts we can’t take down the Hybrids. We’ve tried and failed. We only made a dent today because of them and even then it was a massacre.”
She takes a deep, steadying breath. “You know it’s time for this to end, Wyatt. We’ve fought for this since the beginning.”
His eyes connect with mine and I see the guilt behind them for spreading this virus in the first place. It’s his boulder. The one thing he can’t fix. Except maybe now he can? Maybe this is the solution he’s been looking for.
“Wyatt.” It comes out a stronger warning than I intended.
Walker continues speaking low and quick. “He’s telling Erwin right now where he stands and that he wants the Ramsey’s to destroy the vaccinations and start clean. No mutations. No manipulations. Just a vaccine that protects us from the E-TR virus.”
I shake my head. “A lot has changed since you’ve been gone. So much.”
The tone of her voice and the hard edges of her eyes make me know better than to reveal that we took the EVI-3 injection. I can still feel the lingering results. But that injection saved my life. It saved all of our lives.
“Hamilton has a strong vision for the future. A good future. Clean and safe,” Walker says. “He has resources, weapons, food, and supplies. He’s what left of the actual government. He can help us get back on track and we can be a part of it, as long as we follow his plan.”
I glance uneasily at the two men in the house. They look casual. Like they’re having a normal conversation, but there’s a vibe rolling off the room. I don’t know if everyone feels it or if it’s the spidey-sense that comes along with the injection. I take a breath and say, “That’s not going to work. You do realize that Erwin is a Mutt, right?”
Immediately her expression and demeanor changes. She curses and says, “I knew something was different.”
She pushes past me. Benjamin, who’s closest to the door, runs in after her. I haven’t moved, instead watching frozen in my spot through the wide picture window as Hamilton leans back, the metal of a gun in his hands. Erwin lunges across the table, reflexes like a cat. But Green dives between them just as the gun fires.
He lands with a thud, taking the table down, under his weight. A second shot fires and it goes straight through the center of Erwin’s forehead.
I look back at Paul and Cole. “Get the hell out of here. Now.”
I rush into the room, two steps behind Wyatt but it’s too late. Erwin and Green are both dead. Their lifeless bodies are in the middle of the room. The rest of us have our weapons are drawn. Jackson, Walker, me, and Wyatt. We’re caught in standoff, friend against friend.
Hamilton rubs the tip of the barrel against his sleeve. “It was my understanding you and General Erwin had a challenging relationship, Alexandra.”
“Why did you do that?” I ask, trying not to look at the bodies of my two dead allies on the floor. It’s impossible and I swallow back nausea at the blood pooling beneath Green. “Erwin’s done nothing but fight against the Hybrids and for this country for years.”
“He’s an abomination, as all of the mutants are. We simply cannot become a whole society again until each and every one is eliminated.”
“That’s impossible. The Hybrids ran tonight. There were hundreds left. The Mutts, too. When they hear Erwin is gone they’ll run,” Wyatt says. “The Mutts are a useful asset.”
Hamilton raises an eye at Wyatt. “I’m surprised to hear such talk from you, Sergeant Faraday. You’re known for being such a patriot.”
“This has nothing to do about patriotism.”
The Colonel laughs, flashing his white teeth. “Oh, you’re wrong about that.” He leans forward. “Let me make this clear. The Hybrid wars are over. We’re reestablishing society, one I’m hoping you’ll be a part of.”
“Have you been out there?” I ask, still reeling from the murders. My voice cracks when I speak. “The whole country, particularly the South, is falling apart. There’s not enough vaccine to go around. The Eaters are not under control—the best ones to keep them under control are the Mutts. Don’t you understand that?”
“What I understand is that there’s no gray area here. It’s black and white. Human or not. Only one can survive.” What he says rings true, but at the same time I see one friend and one ally dead in the middle of the room and it’s not okay. Hamilton must sense my hesitation. “Change is difficult but you’ve proven yourself a useful asset, and your references,” he nods at Walker and Jackson, “are impeccable. I’m willing to give you a chance. All of you.”
“What do you want us to do?” Wyatt asks.
Hamilton smiles knowingly at him. “Accept the invitation to join my new world order. I think I have the perfect job for everyone, specifically you two.”
I fight to keep my face blank. Everyone else in the room is much, much better at it than I am. I ask, “And what exactly is that?”
“I plan on having you and Sergeant Faraday lead the Bounty Hunter Initiative.”
“Bounty hunters?”
“You’ll be in charge of rounding up the Hybrids and Mutts and exterminating them,” Walker says. “Under my command.”
I open my mouth to speak. To tell them to shove their crazy plan where the sun doesn’t shine, but I feel the pressure of a hand on my back from Wyatt and a glint of urgency in Walker’s eyes.
“We’ll do it,” Wyatt says, speaking for the both of us.
“Good choice. We’ll make spots for the rest of the humans on your team. Your sister, father,
and anyone else.” He stands and takes a wide step over the bodies. “Walker will hand out assignments and instructions.”
With that, he leaves. Walker follows, saying, “You have five minutes to get yourselves together. I’ll meet you by the truck.”
Jackson is the last to leave the room, his brown eyes hard. I grab his arm and he stops. I ask him outright: “Is this the right thing to do?”
“It’s the only thing,” he says, walking out the door.
Wyatt and I are finally alone. We have five minutes. We haven’t had a conversation in days. Our lives change fast. I spare a glance at the bodies on the floor. So fast.
“What do we do?” I whisper.
“We join in and fight from the inside. We’ve done it before.”
“With disastrous results.” I remind him. “What if they find out about what we did today? What I did?”
His jaw tics. “They won’t.”
“But what if they do?”
He brushes my hair out of my face and cups my cheek. “Then they have to go through me.”
His words hit me like a punch because in the end it’s all we have—each other. Since the very beginning, Wyatt has had my back. He’s the only man to survive a full-on Hybrid-Mutt war and come out alive. I wrap my arms around him, stealing this one last moment.
Chloe had been right. The battle will never end. The Hybrids won’t stop but neither will the humans. It’s in our nature.
He kisses me; it’s too quick but there’s not enough time. With our hands wrapped together he asks, “You ready?”
I nod. “I’m going to have to be.”
The sixth and final installment of The Death Field’s Series: The Girl Who Saved the World will be released in June of 2017. It’s available now on pre-order. Be sure to join my mailing list for updates , news and special deals!
Author Note
Hey guys,
So let’s get real. The Girl Who Broke Free was a harder book for me to write. Some real life stuff happened. My mother-in-law passed after a long illness and obviously that rocked our world. It became hard for me to focus and get my daily work together. I’m not exaggerating in the least when I say your notes, facebook posts, emails, reviews etc are so helpful and motivating. If you love a book series, IMO, this is the best way to see it happen. Just encourage the author (not the same as harassing haha) and it’s like magic juice to get us on track and focused.
My MIL was very supportive of my writing. She loved books. She loved reading and always was one of the firsts to grab my books (especially if it was on sale!) Not everything I wrote was her particular jam, but she always gave it a try.
This family situation has given us a lot of extra responsibilities but I’m on track for the final book in the series. From there I have something I’m pretty excited about and I can’t wait to share it with you. Thanks again for everything!
angel
Continue reading for a sample of the next book.
The Girl Who Broke Free
(This is a pre-view unedited sample—please excuse mistakes)
Laughter echoes off the hallways and I hear the clickety-clack of fingers over a keypad. My phone sits snugly in my hand like an old friend. There’s no service, but I can look at my pictures, through the screen that got cracked at some point along the way. I mean, I didn’t even remember having a cell phone until someone handed me a cord and said, “Want to use this?”
Cell phones.
Computers.
Electricity.
Laughter.
I look around the room and watch everyone in motion. Working as though nothing had happened—or was happening—outside this place. There are still Eaters out there. I know that. There are Hybrids on the run, slipping across the country like ants. There are Mutts in hiding—trying to figure out their next move. Both of their leaders are gone and no one told them what to do once the battle was over, what would happen to them with a new person in charge.
“Name?” the man at the desk next to my chair asks. I glance at Wyatt one desk over and his eyes pierce mine. He gives the slightest of nods.
“Alexandra Ramsey.”
“Age?”
“Twenty.”
“Place of origin?”
I hesitate and think back over the last year-and-a-half. Catlettsburg, Asbury, then Catlettsburg before that. I had a stretch of traveling from Georgia, but also spent time in Tennessee. I think past the Vaccine Center and PharmaCorp and Fort Shaw, all the way back to the beginning. When I met Cole and Wyatt. When I was still with my mother. I blink at the man whose hands wait over the keyboard for my answer.
“Raleigh, North Carolina.”
He types this information into a computer. A computer that hums and has white light. I watch as he scribbles something on a small blue card with a plastic pen.
“Take this to receive your rations; this includes clothing and food. Follow the arrow on the floor.”
I’m aware of the tremble in my hand when I take the card. Once I step away Jude’s number is called and he replaces me. The same questions start again.
“Name?”
“Jude Hansen.”
I look up, a little lost, but perk up when I spot Wyatt waiting for me by the exit. There’s a blue hued arrow painted under his feet.
“You okay?” he asks. I spot a similar blue rectangle in his hand. “You look a little pale.”
“Yeah, I think it may be the effects wearing off.” I whisper. The EVI-3 which transformed me into a temporary Mutt for the battle between the Hybrid’s and Mutt’s has finally worked its way through my system and I’m feeling it. Extreme fatigue and a slight headache over my temple. “I think I just need some water and a nap.”
Wyatt studies me. I know he’s worried about side effects from the drug. Overall I feel fine. The hyper focus is gone—the extreme strength and heightened senses—all faded. When I challenge his look he sighs and starts down the hallway. The sooner we check in the faster I can find a place to sleep off the hangover.
We approach a window that overlooks the small city below. We’re in Cincinnati, a place bigger than I ever thought I’d step foot into again. The building is a government assistance facility, no longer needed for driver’s licenses or social security. It’s perfect for processing in new citizens. From what Walker told us coming in the night before the entire city 100% Eater free. They have the power grid up, running water and a functioning infrastructure. It’s basically the government approved version of Avi’s Catlettsburg although much larger and well equip. apparently, the government had multiple cities prepped for a cataclysmic disaster. Cincinnati is one of them. Well, I say Cincinnati. They no longer call it that. It’s been officially renamed New Hope. According to Walker other safe cities, dotted around the country, are in various states of flux. Some are still fighting the Eater’s to hold their ground or do not have adequate survivors to maintain the infrastructure as much as they hoped. Although, according to her, a few are doing as well as this one.
Wyatt listened to all this with intense interest, the wheels in his head spinning. He has the same look now when he looks out the window at the clean, functional city. “Surreal isn’t it?”
I touch the glass. “It doesn’t seem real.”
“We probably shouldn’t get used to it. If we’re really being assigned as bounty hunters I don’t think we’ll get to stay long.”
I watch him watch the city. “Is it weird that I’m okay with that? That I want to go back out?”
“It isn’t weird to me. But I’m not sure I’m the best example of post-crisis mentality.”
I face him, other than a sanitizing wash off and temporary clothing in quarantine we’re fresh off the battle field. Less than twenty-four hours before I’d killed Chloe with a shot to the head. We’d watched Erwin and Green executed by Hamilton, the totally unknown man in charge of this city. I grip Wyatt’s hips and push up on my toes, giving him a peck on the lips.
“You may not be the best example but you�
�re the best for me,” I tell him.
“You lay it on thick, you know that right?” Wyatt is well aware of my inability to be the mushy-girlfriend. I’m well aware that he likes me that way.
Jude and Mary Ellen approach from the processing room. Jane? I haven’t seen her since we arrived but I have little doubt she’s already been put to work.
They clutch cards in their fingers. I take a deep breath and say, “Let’s get this over with,” before taking the next step in the game.
Chapter two
The bizarre feeling of normalcy only grows when we’re escorted to a nearby auditorium for orientation. The group we’re in isn’t big—maybe twenty people, of varying ages, all looking as tired and weary as I feel. I can’t imagine what they’ve been through—it’s clear the functioning, post-crisis world is very different than what I had in mind—but I doubt they just got in a battle with super-soldiers the day before.
“It’s weird being in a place like this, with electricity and everything,” Mary Ellen says. Her feet bounce on the ground, shaking her knees. I wonder if it’s nerves or side effects.
“Sometimes it feels like whiplash,” Jude says. “There’s no constant. One minute we’re living like survivalists, the next it’s like nothing has changed.”
I agree that it’s definitely hard to process, which may be why I’m itching to get out of here. I also know that I need to learn more about this place and Hamilton because if I’ve learned anything over the last year is power corrupts—now more than ever.
A slight woman pale brown hair and a wide nose walks to the podium. Her lips are painted bright red and I can’t help but notice her dress. It’s not the utilitarian kind that Mary Ellen wore as a byproduct of growing up with the Mennonites. No, it’s made of a silky black material with dotted flowers. It’s the kind of outfit that you can’t fight in. It, more than anything else I’ve seen today emits a level of luxury I am fully unaccustomed to.
