The Last Sanctuary Omnibus

by Kyla Stone

“She’s coming.” Elise Black breathed hard, her hands on her stomach. “Silas is with her.”

  The sound of gunshots faded. For a long moment, the group stared at each other, straining their ears for any sound. There were only the insects trilling in the underbrush, a few birds chirping high in the trees.

  “Is it over?” Micah asked.

  “They overwhelmed the convoy,” Willow said. “There were too damn many of them.”

  Jericho returned, winding through the trees, leading Amelia, Silas, and several others. He cradled two assault rifles and four handguns in his arms—all stolen from the fallen attackers. He hadn’t managed to snag any of the military-grade pulse guns that were illegal for citizens. “Who here can handle a gun?”

  He handed a rifle to Silas and a handgun to Micah. “I’ll take one,” Willow piped up. Holding her hands out imploringly, she looked like a little kid.

  “I don’t think so.” Jericho handed one to Amelia’s mother instead. “You know what to do.”

  Horne gestured for one. “I’ll take one of those off your hands.”

  Jericho hesitated. “You know how to shoot?”

  “Of course!” Horne grabbed a pistol before Jericho could protest further and tucked it into his belt. He’d probably never shot anything more dangerous than a pheasant. Gabriel clenched his jaw and turned away in disgust.

  His gaze landed on Amelia. Her face was as beautiful as he remembered, with her finely carved cheekbones, delicate features, and skin as pale as ivory. Her long white-blond hair hung to her waist in a practical braid, stray tendrils sticking to her damp forehead.

  She glanced at him, caught his gaze, then flicked her ice-blue eyes away, her expression hardening. What else did he expect? Everyone despised him. He was the terrorist, the one who’d murdered their friends and family members and sank their ship, the one who struck horror into the most callused of hearts. He was the embodiment of every secret fear.

  “Where are the others?” There were a hundred and thirty-six survivors; only twenty-five or so huddled in the woods.

  Jericho shook his head. “They either ran in the opposite direction or never made it off the other transports. A couple of the trucks got away.”

  “What do we do now?” Senator López wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and ran a hand through his thick, silver hair. “Head back to the transport and radio the base for help?”

  “They lined up the last soldiers and executed them,” Silas said flatly. Though he was Amelia’s brother, they looked nothing alike. Silas was lean, wiry, and darker-haired, like his mother, but with the sullen petulance and cruel gray eyes of his father—the Unity Coalition chairman and sociopathic mastermind, Declan Black.

  Jericho nodded. “The only thing heading back to the transport will get you is a bullet to the head.”

  Meredith moaned. “Those monsters! They’re barbarians! Where in the world are the police?”

  “Gone,” Jericho said.

  Gabriel watched him closely. The man didn’t appear surprised or panicked. Who knew what atrocities he’d seen—or took part of—as Declan Black’s head of security.

  Amelia poked at her gold-plated, jewel-studded SmartFlex. “It still doesn’t work. No signal. We can’t call anyone.”

  Meredith gestured wildly at the trees. “Then what exactly are we supposed to do?”

  “We wait here for the military to come looking for their transport,” Horne said.

  López nodded. “Good idea.”

  Gabriel shook his head but didn’t speak. They were both idiots. These coddled elites had no clue how to survive in the real world.

  Horne crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sure the soldiers reported the attack before they were killed.”

  “I’m sure they did,” Jericho said. “But we aren’t staying here. Those hostiles didn’t care about us while they were focused on the supplies. They might now.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” Horne’s voice was even, but the corner of his lip twitched, revealing the tiniest sneer. He disliked Jericho. Or maybe he disliked not being the smartest asshole in the room for once.

  Jericho tucked a handgun into his belt and shouldered the rifle. “We head east a few miles and await the next transport from a safe position in the woods. We’ll flag them down before they reach the ambush point and go from there.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Celeste swiped a centipede off the leg of her pants. “Through the woods? When the road is right there?”

  “Did you not see what just happened?” Silas glowered at her. “Or were you too busy staring at yourself in a mirror?”

  Celeste frowned, opening her mouth as if to complain further, but then seemed to think better of it. She pushed herself off the tree. “Fine. The woods it is.”

  Meredith’s lip curled, but she said nothing. She smoothed her blonde hair, glancing at the trees around her in obvious distaste, like they might leap out and bite her, or worse, ruin her manicure. Gabriel gritted his teeth in disgust.

  “We’ll follow you, Jericho,” López said. “You seem to know what you’re doing.”

  “Move.” Jericho shoved Gabriel in the small of his back.

  He took the lead, gingerly stepping over tree roots and winding between massive tree trunks. Small branches scratched his face, since he couldn’t use his hands to deflect them. He didn’t complain. He didn’t say anything.

  The image playing in his head over and over wasn’t of the transport ambush they just survived. He kept seeing that rain-slicked night, the storm crashing against the ship, flames leaping high in the night sky as he stumbled on the deck of the Grand Voyager, wet with rain and blood. Handcuffs had bitten into his wrists just as they did now. The panicked crowd shoved and thrashed against him as the deck heaved and bullets rained down from above.

  He saw the little girl again and again, how she crumpled on the deck in her bright yellow bathrobe. She’d been so small, only five or six, younger and smaller than the boy in their group now.

  He saw her in his dreams and his nightmares, in every waking moment. Her black hair spread around her tiny face, her rosebud mouth slack, her eyes dull and staring. Always staring straight at him, accusing him with their terrible vacancy.

  He was a terrorist. And he had killed her.

  4

  Willow

  Seventeen-year-old Willow trudged through the woods, keeping her grip on Benjie’s hand. She already lost one sibling. She sure as hell wasn’t going to lose another.

  When they were trapped in the transport with no escape, she nearly hyperventilated with terror. He’s safe, she told herself over and over. Benjie was safe, and she’d do damn near anything to keep him that way.

  “Hey, you.” Finn fell into step beside her. “For a second, I saw my own death flash before my eyes. I thought I’d be done with that by now, you know?”

  “Would you prefer peeing yourself?” she quipped, though her hands were still trembling slightly. She glanced up at him.

  At 6’6”, he towered over her tiny 5’0” frame. She was short but thick, where Finn was huge all over, with broad shoulders, a meaty chest, and tree-trunk arms and thighs. Shadows dappled his medium-brown skin, his cheeks breaking into that mischievous smile she’d come to adore. He was always good-natured, even after weeks of being confined in quarantine or repeatedly getting shot at.

  Though they’d only known each other for several weeks, surviving both the Grand Voyager and the hours-a-day they spent in quarantine together solidified their friendship. On the first day of quarantine, Finn settled his bulk in their little corner and never left.

  Finn winked at Benjie. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

  Benjie managed a giggle. Finn’s kindness and humor did wonders for him, somehow easing the trauma he’d endured. Benjie tried to wriggle out of Willow’s grasp and reached for Finn instead.

  “Nice try.” Willow tightened her grip. “You think I’m letting go of you for even a second?”

  Benj
ie pushed between them and slipped his free hand into Finn’s. His entire arm looked like a twig next to Finn’s. “I can do both. Right, Finn?”

  Willow rolled her eyes. “Always the negotiator. And it’s Mister Finn to you. Remember to show respect.” Now that her mom was gone, the burden of raising Benjie was on Willow’s shoulders. They’re your responsibility. Take care of them. Her mom’s words echoed in her mind. She’d do her best to make her mom proud. It was the least she could do.

  They walked for another hour. A spider’s web tangled in her hair. Benjie tripped on a root and scraped his palms. Birds twittered in the branches above them. Yellow leaves and pine needles crunched beneath their feet.

  It was better than eighteen days stuck in a windowless tent with nothing to do, sitting around waiting to find out whether you’d contracted a deadly disease. And it was a far cry better than being trapped and shot at like sardines in a can—which tasted awful, though her lola loved them.

  Jericho led them to the edge of the tree line, still far enough in to avoid being seen, but close enough to scout any incoming traffic on the highway, which was eerily empty.

  “Did you hear any cars while we were in the woods?” Willow asked.

  He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Nope.”

  The majority of vehicles were electric, but if you listened for it, you could still hear their signature hum. “That’s weird, right?”

  “Yeah.” He rustled Benjie’s hair. “I’d say that’s weird.”

  They found a spot clear of roots and sat down. Nadira and Micah sat next to them, with Amelia, Silas, and Amelia’s mother, Elise, leaning against several tree trunks a few yards away. A group of adults—Horne, Meredith, Lopez, and several others, all rich elites with imperious attitudes who’d done nothing but complain since their first night in quarantine—remained standing, huddled in a circle and whispering urgently.

  Jericho stood off to the side, guarding his terrorist prisoner, Gabriel.

  Jericho should just kill him and be done with it. She knew it was a dark thought, but she couldn’t help it. He didn’t need a trial. Everyone here knew he and his rebel terrorists had released the Hydra Virus, which murdered over one hundred thousand people before mutating to kill millions more. He’d slaughtered hundreds on the Grand Voyager.

  Her mom was dead because of that monster. And her beautiful, spunky little sister Zia, with her pixie hair dyed turquoise, her zany outfits, and her crazy, infectious laugh.

  Not all the blame rested with the terrorists, though. She swallowed a lump in her throat.

  Willow was supposed to watch Zia. Willow was supposed to be the responsible big sister—Ate, as her Filipina mother always called her. But she hadn’t been responsible. She abandoned Zia on purpose, left her thirteen-year-old sister crying and upset and alone. Her last words to Zia haunted her every waking moment. Don’t you get it? I don’t want you around!

  Willow flinched and shoved the memory out of her head. She couldn’t think about that now. She’d never escape it. Her guilt would stay with her no matter where she went or what she did, like a scar, or a scarlet letter tattooed on her forehead.

  The sun disappeared behind a cloud, casting the forest in dark shadows. A twig cracked. Something moved back there, something bigger than a squirrel. The buzz of insects grew louder. She slapped a mosquito from her upper arm.

  How long had they sat here? It felt like hours. Willow kept wanting to check her SmartFlex for the time. Though her version had been old and crappy, it still performed all the basic functions. But the terrorists stole it, along with her family.

  “I’m thirsty.” Benjie shuffled and reshuffled a favorite set of cards kept inside his rumpled backpack.

  “Here.” Nadira tucked a strand of black hair inside her hijab and handed him a half-full water bottle she’d somehow managed to bring with her from the transport.

  “Don’t take too much.” Willow nodded in thanks to Nadira, who smiled warmly. Her heavy, expressive brows and strong nose gave her a regal look, but she was a quiet girl, soft-spoken and genuinely kind. Willow had liked her since they’d first met in the Kid Zone of the Grand Voyager, when Nadira convinced her to spare the life of one of the terrorists.

  After a while, Nadira rose and slipped between the trees, out of sight. In quarantine, she walked to the same corner five times a day, knelt on a small rug one of the doctors gave her, and prayed facing Mecca.

  A few of the older survivors grumbled a bit, but most people didn’t care. These days, terrorists looked like everyone. Willow didn’t believe in Islam or any other religion, but she wouldn’t begrudge anyone what they needed to survive.

  The whirring sound of several electric engines reached them just as Nadira returned from the woods, a few pine needles still stuck to her pant legs. Micah, Silas, and Horne leapt to their feet. No one else got up. The strangely empty highway littered with abandoned cars weirded everyone out.

  The three guys followed Jericho to the shoulder of the highway. Through the trees, Willow made out a military transport heading toward them. Four transport trucks were led by an armored hummer, just as Jericho predicted.

  She stood up, relief flooding through her. She didn’t want to complain in front of Benjie, but hunger gnawed at her belly. Exhausted from the terror of the ambush, she just wanted to eat a good meal—preferably real food over tasteless prefab, but she’d take anything right now. She longed to lie down and sleep for a long, long time.

  Jericho, Micah, and Silas stepped onto the road, waving their arms. The armored hummer blared its horn but didn’t slow down. Instead, it sped up. She couldn’t discern the driver and passenger, but she recognized the distinctive gray muzzle of a pulse gun poking through the opened window.

  “They’re not stopping,” she whispered. “Why aren’t they stopping?” She squeezed Benjie’s hand. Beside her, Finn grabbed her brother’s other hand.

  Jericho waved harder, yelling for them to stop. They didn’t. Jericho, Micah, and Silas stumbled backward off the road at the last second. The military transport roared past them.

  Willow stared, her heart sinking into her stomach.

  “What just happened?” Celeste demanded.

  “They left us behind!” Meredith sputtered. “They can’t do that! Don’t they know who we are? We have a senator with us! I am a prestigious CEO! They can’t leave us!”

  “They did,” Willow said numbly.

  Jericho and the others stalked back to the group. Horne’s face reddened with rage. “They flicked us off. Can you imagine? General Thorton himself will hear about this.”

  “They can’t discern us from any other civilian.” Amelia’s mother, Elise, exchanged a glance with Jericho. “We’re nothing to them.”

  “She’s right,” Jericho said heavily.

  “I don’t care,” Horne sputtered. “I’ll take this to the highest chain of command. When we get back—”

  “We’re on our own,” Willow said. Her voice didn’t sound like herself. That old familiar fear crept up her throat. They were lost in the woods in the middle of nowhere. The only other people they’d seen were the crazy attackers who’d just tried to kill them. The woods took on an ominous look, the air colder, the branches sharper, the shadows deepening, hiding who-knows-what.

  “We need to follow the first rule of survival,” Jericho said. “Seek shelter.”

  “We shouldn’t leave the highway,” Meredith said. “Who knows what’s out there?”

  “What do you suggest?” Silas raised his brows contemptuously. “Just sit here and hope the next military vehicle that passes will take pity on us? I’m pretty sure they’re lumping all civilians with those psychos we met this morning.”

  “We should go back to the base,” Celeste said. “We know it’s safe. They know us.”

  “They transferred us because they don’t have the room or the supplies to house civilians,” Willow said with a calmness she didn’t feel. “Besides, we traveled all day. Jacksonville must be four or fi
ve hundred miles back.”

  Meredith paled. “Regardless. That transport could have come from any base. General Thorton will send an emergency team for us. We simply need to wait.”

  “You’ll make yourself a juicier target for whoever comes along,” Jericho said.

  “What about the closest city?” Nadira twisted her hands in front of her lap. “We find the police, the local government, whoever we can. Then we can find our families and go home.”

  Willow shivered. Her lola, her grandmother, lived in Newark. She missed the smell of pancit and the sound of the Filipino channel always in the background, her grandmother chiding her to take her shoes off inside the house and do her homework.

  But was she okay? Did she get sick? What about her best friend, Rihanna? The last time Willow talked to her, she’d been burning with fever. That was five weeks ago. What had happened to everyone she knew while she was locked up in quarantine? She missed her family and friends with a fierceness that surprised her. “I want to go home.”

  “We should find a closer military base first,” Micah said. “We don’t know what’s happening in the cities or how dangerous they are.”

  Jericho tapped his SmartFlex. “Current location.” Even without a signal, the GPS still worked. The satellites weren’t connected to internet or signal towers. “We’re just north of Macon, Georgia. The nearest base is Robins Air Force Base, about thirty miles south of here.”

  Celeste scowled. “You expect us to walk thirty miles? Are you insane?”

  “That’s not an option,” Senator López said quietly.

  Willow glanced at him. He had the highest clearance of anyone in the group. A chill ran through her. “Why not?”

  “After I cleared quarantine, I received a security update from General Thorton. They were going to send me and the other surviving government officials to Mount Weather to join President Sloane.” Senator López wiped his face. The color leached out of his tanned skin, the lines around his eyes and mouth deepening. “We were scheduled to leave yesterday, when the latest reports came in from Mount Weather. It has been compromised.”