by Stone, Kyla
“I don’t, but I know several people at the shelter who do,” Annette said. “They’re as upset as we are. They might be willing to fight, too. I’ll help in any way I can.”
“So will we,” Mike Duncan said. “Just tell us what you need.”
Quinn fisted her hands on her hips and turned her gaze on Liam. “Well?”
Liam understood that Rosamond Sinclair and the militia would not stop. He knew their kind. They were corrupted by greed, drunk on power.
They would not relent until they’d seized as much power as they could. And then they would take even more.
With their bump stocks that modified semis into near automatic weapons, they would mow down anyone in their path. No one was safe. Not Atticus Bishop. Not feisty Quinn, and especially not Hannah.
If Rosamond Sinclair ever discovered that she and Ghost were the ones who really killed her son, both of them would be set firmly in her sights.
Could Liam really allow that to happen? Could he really abandon this small town to tyrants and thugs masquerading as saviors?
He rested his hand on the pistol grip at his hip. “You’ll likely lose. People you love will die. A lot of people.”
“Did I mention that he’s also an optimist?” Hannah said.
He shot her a disgruntled look.
Her smile only widened, her eyes shining, almost merry.
“The odds aren’t in our favor,” Liam said.
“So, you’re saying it’s not impossible,” Quinn said.
“I like her enthusiasm,” Hannah said.
“I bet you do,” Liam grumbled. “She’s as relentless as you are. You’re both like a dog with a bone when you’ve got an idea stuck in your heads.”
Quinn beamed. “Thank you.”
The mood was sober, the room crackling with tension, but it was far from bleak. There was hope here. Joy and humor. Love.
“Will you stand with us?” Hannah asked, her steady gaze pinned on his.
Liam couldn’t look away. Something warm and bright unfurled inside his chest.
He finally understood it, his role in all of this. Why he hadn’t been able to bring himself to leave Fall Creek, even after he’d safely delivered Hannah and Charlotte home as he’d promised.
His particular talents were needed in this broken world in ways they hadn’t been before. His skills were needed. He was needed.
He was the sheep dog. The guardian. The one who stood between the innocent and the wolves who would devour them.
This was who he was. Who he’d always been.
He’d lost himself along the way. Scarred by war. Traumatized by the events of Chicago. Haunted by mistakes and losses.
And yet, somewhere in the wilderness of Manistee National Forest, he’d been found.
Not by himself, but by Hannah. Hannah with her dogged determination and tenacity, her iron will beneath that softness, somehow simultaneously gentle and fierce as a wildcat.
If anyone had an excuse to retreat from humanity, she did.
Hannah’s pain should have crushed her. It should have destroyed her. Her faith shattered beyond repair. But it wasn’t. She wasn’t.
She’d chosen life. She’d chosen faith, trust, and hope. Love.
Here she was, ready to fight for those she cared about, ready to defend her community. She had chosen to become a part of something bigger than herself.
And so would he.
Hannah watched him, the ghost of a smile on her lips. It was like she could read his mind, like she knew what he was thinking before he did. She already knew what he would say.
Her presence steadied him, strengthened his resolve.
“Yes,” Liam said. “I will.”
Everyone looked at each other, nodding in grim approval. They understood the odds stacked against them. Close to fifty armed men against a rag-tag group of citizens.
They were outmanned and outgunned. They were willing to fight anyway. And Liam would lead them.
Reynoso’s radio spat static. So did Samantha Perez’s. They both reached for it at the same time.
Reynoso clicked the press-to-talk button first. “Reynoso here. Come in.”
Static hissed. A high, frantic voice burst from the speakers. “It’s Hayes. We’ve got a 10-33! All hands on deck! Fall Creek is under attack!”
The End
I hope you enjoyed Edge of Anarchy! Don’t miss the epic conclusion to the Collapse series in Edge of Defiance!
With everything on the line, are you willing to fight for what matters?
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While you’re waiting, check out my completed Nuclear Dawn series! Keep reading after the “About the Author” section for an exciting preview! For a limited time, get the nuclear terrorism survival series for 60% off or FREE in Kindle Unlimited.
Get it HERE.
Author’s Note
Thank you so much for sticking with me and supporting this series even as reality seems to be mirroring fiction more and more. I hope that the apocalyptic scenarios I write about remain firmly in the realm of the imagination.
This was my "quarantine book,” written entirely during the shut-down here in northern Atlanta. I’m surprised that I managed to string together enough coherent sentences to form a novel. At times, it felt like I bled for every word.
Some of you also know that I'm moving from Atlanta to Michigan this summer (Yep, I apparently love writing about winter so much that I'm moving back...just kidding. We’re moving to be closer to my parents). I've been madly revising and editing in between packing and searching for a house.
On top of that, 2020 has been a difficult year for everyone—a dumpster fire is more like it. I am saddened by the violence and division, for those who’ve gotten sick and those who’ve lost their jobs.
I pray that we can come together and figure out a better, brighter future moving forward. Despite my tendencies toward cynicism and the often brutal topics I write about, I do believe in hope. I believe that if we’re willing to work for it, the best parts of humanity will prevail.
All that being said, I loved my time with Hannah, Liam, Ghost, Quinn, and the rest of the Fall Creek crew. This book was rewarding in so many ways. I cried with Hannah, felt her terror, and cheered with her when evil Pike was finally vanquished. I hope you were as satisfied with his end as I was!
There is plenty of excitement and edge-of-your-seat action waiting for your favorite characters in book #5! Until next time, be safe and take care!
Acknowledgments
Thank you so much to my awesome, amazing, and fantastic BETA readers: Fred Oelrich, Melva Metivier, Wmh Cheryl, Jessica Burland, Sally Shupe, Annette King, Joanna Niederer, and Cheree Castellanos. Your thoughtful critiques and enthusiasm are invaluable.
To Michelle Browne for her line editing skills and Nadene Seiters for proofreading.
And a special thank you to Jenny Avery for catching those last pesky errors.
To my husband, who takes care of the house, the kids, and the cooking when I’m under the gun with a writing deadline. To my kids, who show me the true meaning of love every day and continually inspire me.
Thanks to God for His many blessings. He is with us even in the darkest times.
And to my loyal readers, whose support and encouragement mean everything to me. Thank you.
Also by Kyla Stone
The Edge of Collapse Post-Apocalyptic Series (EMP):
Chaos Rising: The Prequel
Edge of Collapse
Edge of Mayhem
Edge of Darkness
Edge of Anarchy
Edge of Defiance
The Nuclear Dawn Post-Apocalyptic Series (Nuclear Terrorism):
Point of Impact
Fear
the Fallout
From the Ashes
Into the Fire
Darkest Night
Nuclear Dawn: The Complete Series Box Set
The Last Sanctuary Post-Apocalyptic Series (Pandemic):
Rising Storm
Falling Stars
Burning Skies
Breaking World
Raging Light
Last Sanctuary: The Complete Series Box Set
No Safe Haven (A post-apocalyptic stand-alone novel):
No Safe Haven
Historical Fantasy:
Labyrinth of Shadows
Contemporary YA:
Beneath the Skin
Before You Break
Audiobooks:
Nuclear Dawn series:
Point of Impact
Fear the Fallout
From the Ashes
Into the Fire
Darkest Night
Edge of Collapse series:
Chaos Rising
Edge of Collapse
Edge of Madness
Edge of Darkness
About the Author
I spend my days writing apocalyptic and dystopian fiction novels, exploring all the different ways the world might end.
I love writing stories exploring how ordinary people cope with extraordinary circumstances, especially situations where the normal comforts, conveniences, and rules are stripped away.
My favorite stories to read and write deal with characters struggling with inner demons who learn to face and overcome their fears, launching their transformation into the strong, brave warrior they were meant to become.
Some of my favorite books include The Road, The Passage, Hunger Games, and Ready Player One. My favorite movies are The Lord of the Rings and Gladiator.
Give me a good story in any form and I’m happy.
Oh, and add in a cool fall evening in front of a crackling fire, nestled on the couch with a fuzzy blanket, a book in one hand and a hot mocha latte in the other (or dark chocolate!): that’s my heaven.
I love to hear from my readers! Find my books and chat with me via any of the channels below:
www.Facebook.com/KylaStoneAuthor
www.Amazon.com/author/KylaStone
Email me at [email protected]
Nuclear Dawn Preview
Dakota Sloane was no stranger to hardship. A born survivor, she’d spent her life waiting for the next calamity, the next disappointment, the next strike from a world intent on breaking her.
But Dakota didn’t break.
She felt close now, though. Her chest tightened as she scanned the street outside the window of the Beer Shack Bar.
A damp rag in one hand, she froze, bent over a yellow table strewn with crumpled napkins and a greasy, half-eaten lunch of twist fries, burgers, and globs of ketchup.
Her gaze locked on a familiar figure striding through the lunchtime crowd strolling along Front Street in Overtown along the outskirts of downtown Miami.
She knew that confident, purposeful walk, the lean, lanky shape of him, sharp as a knife blade. She’d recognize that thin, angular face anywhere, those grim, fevered eyes—the eyes that haunted her nightmares.
He wasn’t supposed to be there.
Dakota didn’t believe in coincidences.
If Maddox Cage was in Miami—in this part of Miami—it was for one reason.
He was here for her. For her and Eden.
She’d made it two years and thirteen days. She wasn’t ready yet, hadn’t saved enough. Six more months and her plan would be in place, ready for execution.
Five grand and her little sister. That was all she needed to start a brand-new life a thousand miles away.
Miami was loud and colorful and always moving, made up of a jumble of Cubans, Haitians, Asians, South Americans, and Anglos, an exuberant smorgasbord of cultures, music, food, and art.
Miami was an easy city to get lost in.
But she hadn’t gotten lost enough.
Sweat prickled along her hairline. She took a step back from the window, hoping the sunlight’s glare on the glass would shield her presence.
Maybe he only had a general idea of their location. If he was still searching, if he didn’t already know exactly where she was…
But maybe he wasn’t coming for her first. The thought sent a cold fission of dread through her gut.
He was going after Eden.
She held her breath until he passed—never turning his head to the left or right, eyes fixed straight ahead as he weaved between the pedestrians thronging the sidewalk.
He always had been single-minded, like a dog with a bone.
She should’ve known he wouldn’t let go. Would never let go.
She leaned over the table to get a better view of the street. Maddox Cage paused at the corner and waved down a taxi. Dakota didn’t move until he slipped inside, shut the door, and the car pulled away from the curb.
“Excuse me, Miss,” said a heavy, middle-aged Indian guy at the next booth.
She didn’t know him. The usual regulars haunted their favorite bar stools, but this close to downtown and Miami International, the bar always served a steady stream of tourists and traveling business types.
People liked the Beer Shack’s funky vibe. The bar was lined with kitschy shiny yellow tables and elephant palms in huge ceramic planters adorned with fairy lights.
Famous locations throughout Miami—South Beach, Freedom Tower, the Coral Castle Museum—were immortalized in bottle cap art hung on the faux brick walls.
The radio was always playing a vibrant mix of rumba, salsa, timba. The mix of authentic Cuban fare and classic American selections was damn good, too.
With his sweating mug of Sam Adams, the man gestured toward the flat-screen against the far wall. He was in his fifties and nearly bald, a neatly combed circle of white hair ringing his shiny brown scalp. “Can you turn that up?”
“Sure thing.” She forced herself to move, to go through the motions, even as her mind spun with jostling, frantic thoughts.
She put the Coke glass down on the dirty table she’d been cleaning, leaving the plastic tub and rag behind. She pulled the remote from her moss-green apron and punched up the volume.
The Marlins’ loss recap had been interrupted. The screen showed an aerial shot of Michigan Avenue in Chicago, completely cleared but for a minivan parked on the street.
Several police cars and SWAT vehicles were stationed a safe distance away, three helicopters hovering overhead.
A breathless, wide-eyed news reporter gesticulated wildly about something. She couldn’t make sense of the woman’s jumble of words.
“I live near the west side of Chi-Town. Heading back tomorrow. Crazy, huh?” the guy said.
“What’s all the excitement about?” Dakota asked distractedly, forcing herself to be polite.
A low, frantic buzz filled her head.
Fear was already forming like ice around her heart.
She couldn’t just leave in the middle of her shift. She couldn’t afford to lose another job, but she had to contact Eden, had to figure out what to do.
“Some kind of bomb. Terrorist wackos, looks like. Probably ISIS. But Chicago PD caught it in time. Disarming it now, thank God.”
“Good thing,” she said.
He held his mug toward her. “Fill ’er up, would you?”
She grabbed the mug, refilled it at the bar, and returned it to the customer. He didn’t acknowledge her. His eyes were glued to the screen.
Her nerves were stretched taut. Anxiety squeezed her lungs. She needed a break. She needed to reach Eden.
She strode across the room and paused, keeping her back to the empty bar-height table behind her, the glass front door on her left, the bar counter several feet to her right.
The bar wasn’t busy yet. A handful of regulars hunched over their drinks, staring glassily at the second screen hung over the bar, showing the same view of the van in Chicago.
The steady buzz of their conversations w
as a constant hum in the background: Walter Monroe whining about his ex-wife; Jesse Peretti’s grass kept dying from the increased water restrictions due to the drought; Tamara Santos complaining about more forced overtime.
Mendo Del Rio always brought up politics, especially when he was itching for a fight. The Beer Shack owner and current bartender, Julio de la Peña, had been forced to kick him out several times.
Most of the time, the regulars discussed sports and deep-sea fishing plans, crappy boss problems, and the latest indomitable heat wave.
They were all regular people with regular problems. No one was hunting them.
None of them paid any attention to her.
She jerked her cell out of her cargo pocket—an old model Samsung that barely qualified as a smartphone. It was all she could afford, since she put every extra penny toward her bug out fund.
As she tapped the contacts icon, she kept one anxious eye on the street outside, in case Maddox decided to double back. He was cunning like that.
Wanda Simpson, her sister’s social worker, picked up on the fourth ring.
Dakota didn’t waste time on greetings. “I need to see my sister. Now. Today.”
“Well,” the woman huffed. “I don’t have time for this nonsense today, Ms. Sloane. You know as well as I do that you have court-appointed, supervised visits once a month and no more. Your next visit isn’t for a week—”
“I can’t wait that long.”
“Ms. Sloane, your sister is medically fragile. She needs consistency. The judge, the psychologists, and I all agree that disrupting her carefully maintained routine would be detrimental to her well-being.”
“Which is just shrink-speak for trying to keep me from my sister so you can adopt her out—”
Mrs. Simpson sighed heavily into the phone.
