by Tara Ellis
CONVERGENCE
The Flashpoint Series
Book 5
By
Tara Ellis
Mike Kraus
© 2019 Muonic Press Inc
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Table of Contents
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
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Special Thanks
Special thanks to my awesome beta team, without whom this book wouldn’t be nearly as great.
Thank you!
FLASHPOINT Book 6
Available Here
Preface
As paths cross and lives collide, the question of what it means to survive is confronted, whether the answer is wanted or not.
The dust continues to settle from the destruction of the gamma-ray burst, and new challenges arise in its wake. Some of the obstacles are obvious, while others are more insidious and require a tenacity to defeat that few possess.
Tom and his son, Ethan, have come together with Danny and her friend, Sam, and continued their trek together. They’re about to reach their hometown in Mercy, Montana. After more than two weeks on the run, they’ve each overcome their own battles to get there. The wounds from those conflicts might leave some scars and although reaching safety is a relief, it’s also yet another unknown. What’s been happening in Mercy since the flashpoint, and how will they fit in?
Mayor Patty is struggling to feel at home, even though she’s supposed to be the one running things in Mercy. With one challenge after another hurled at her, what’s right and wrong isn’t clear, and neither is her conscience.
Chloe has thrown herself into farm life with both feet and is determined to make her way in the new world. But if the teen thought she struggled to get along with people before everything got turned upside-down, it was nothing compared to what she’s facing now. While juggling to keep her current friends and make new ones, she’s going to discover that her unique perspective on people might lead her into a deadly scenario.
General Montgomery has what he believes to be a solid plan. It’s his destiny to save what’s left of the people of the United States and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to carry it out. He’s learning that not everyone serving with him agrees, and The Man in the Mountain is starting to wage a new war.
Master Sergeant James Campbell is one of the weapons to be deployed, but the sergeant has his own secrets. When James finds himself on a convergence course with some important players, his 1st Force Recon Unit will play a pivotal role in the future of mankind.
Russell Boyd doesn’t care about mankind, or even his own survival. It’s all rather irrelevant to the universe. Because that’s what really makes the decisions in the end: the universe. And he’s simply an extension of it.
Chapter 1
TECHNICAL SERGEANT BEN OWEN
Near Flagstaff, Arizona
The moon cast a pale light across the darkened landscape, providing just enough detail for Sergeant Ben Owen as he crept between the trees. His rapid, ragged breath came in short gasps so that it was all he could hear. Muscles burning from the exertion, Ben ignored the pain and focused on the task at hand.
FEMA Shelter AZ1 was large in comparison to some of the others, though at the moment the occupants were all military. In spite of it being one in the morning, the camp hummed with activity and Ben could see personnel moving about below him in numerous locations. That was good.
The sergeant swung his M-24 rifle around to the ready as he reached the position he’d scoped out earlier in the day. It was a low ridge located approximately five hundred feet from the camp, with an elevation of a hundred feet, give or take a few. While no shot was ever easy, as a certified counter sniper in Afghanistan, Sergeant Owen had successfully completed much more difficult…missions.
That’s what General Montgomery had called it when he’d pulled Ben aside before boarding the Huey as an escort for Admiral Baker; a mission.
Rapid gunfire erupted to the south of his location, and instead of reacting to it, he took a slow, steadying breath. The northern lights flickered above them all, casting its mystical illumination in with the dancing shadows of soldiers as they scurried about. From his vantage point, Ben could see what had already been reported: a large contingent of troops moving in from the south and another, smaller one from the north. Though impressive, they didn’t stand a chance. It would be a bloodbath.
The reason given for sending Vice Admiral Baker to FEMA Shelter AZ1 was increasing reports of a planned attack by local militia. Unlike some of the other groups, these mercenaries were comprised of not only local civilians, but also law enforcement and some National Guard troops who had grown wary of their own military leaders. The admiral arrived under the guise of an emissary, as an attempt to thwart any continued violence and try to bring some resolution between the groups.
However, Ben had worked under General Montgomery for five years, so he wasn’t surprised to discover an ulterior motive. That it would involve the assassination of the admiral was a shock, but Ben was a solider and he believed in his command. He’d seen firsthand, in the streets of Colorado Springs, what desperation and fear drove people to. It was worse than what he’d witnessed overseas, and he knew it would only get worse.
A blinding explosion exposed the scene below him in stark contrast, and Ben turned his head away from his scope, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. It looked like an M67 grenade, standard military issue, and would mark the beginning of an all-out assault attempt against the shelter.
Gunfire answered the detonation and there were shouts from near the back of the camp, where Ben was focusing his attention. That was the location of the Operations Command Center, where Admiral Baker was. As luck would have it, while Ben repositioned himself and did his best to ignore the increasing gunfight, the admiral emerged from the tent, a deep scowl on his face.
Time slowed
down and his hearing receded as a massive surge of adrenaline coursed through Sergeant Owen’s body. In that moment, he contemplated what he was about to do. If the truth were ever exposed, some would see it as a soldier following orders and playing a pivotal role in an attempt to save what was left of humanity. Others would call it the act of a traitor and a coward, cold-blooded murder carried out by the follower of a power-hungry lunatic.
On some level, Ben admitted that he thought he’d have more time to evaluate the situation and his role. They’d only arrived at the shelter twelve hours ago, but as fate would have it, it was on the eve of the very assault the admiral thought he had a chance to diplomatically prevent. Instead, he would end up a martyr for the very cause he was against, and the general could claim the admiral’s death at the hands of the militia as a means to shut down the governor trying to force power back into the civilian government.
The northern lights flared momentarily, enveloping the wooded vista in a blanket of green and adding another layer of confusion and chaos to the pandemonium. Ben blinked once as his thoughts raced, shots echoed, and the lights merged, suspended in the moment.
Letting out his breath, the sergeant’s body responded automatically to its training, his finger pulling back on the trigger as he confirmed the target was in his sights. Vice Admiral Baker began to fall before the report of the weapon was processed by Ben’s brain, and he was already moving away as the only real tangible hope for the civilian government became nothing more than a notation in the history books.
Chapter 2
CHLOE
Miller Ranch, Mercy, Montana
Chloe’s feet beat out a rhythm on the trail and she hummed along with it under her breath, keeping cadence. Since listening to music while she jogged wasn’t an option anymore, she had plenty of time to work on her singing voice.
The weather had done another one-eighty since the storm three days ago, and the morning started out hot and humid, with clear skies. Chloe wiped at the sweat beaded on her forehead, thankful again for her short hair. The purple was almost completely faded from the tips and she had started wearing a headband most days, which kept her overgrown bangs out of her eyes.
She was a mile in on the Miner’s Trail, which was her favorite stretch so far. The cedar trees there were massive and created a sort of cathedral-like effect for a quarter mile before the path started its climb farther into the mountains. Looking up from her feet, she caught a glimpse of the steep and ragged highlands jutting up in the distance.
The musty smell of the earth mingled with warmed pine needles, creating an enticing aroma that would beckon to Chloe long after she left the trail. She found the exercise addictive, almost to the point of being obsessed with getting lost in the remote wilderness. There was something about the whisper of the wind in the trees, and the vast stretches of back country that made her feel…normal. Like her problems, or even the problems of the whole town, were small and inconsequential as long as she was in the expanse. It was cathartic and Chloe couldn’t remember a time she’d ever felt so light and unburdened. Then, she’d get back into town and would be bombarded with the reality of what they were up against, and as the weight descended again, all she could think of was the need to get back into the mountains.
Chloe’s foot caught on a root and she stumbled forward, flailing her arms briefly before she caught herself. She’d gotten pretty good at recovering from tripping up and had only taken a couple of falls in the past week. Deciding it was a good time to stop for a drink, Chloe glared back at the offending root as she unscrewed the top of her water bottle. Since she was out for a fairly short run, there wasn’t any reason to bring a backpack or anything other than water. She preferred to travel light, in spite of Bishop’s warnings against being out in the woods alone.
Strolling along, she neared the spot where the cedars thinned out and gave way to grasses and rocks. Chloe poured some water over her head in anticipation of the sun blazing down on her. It trickled through her hair and then down the front of her shirt, and she pulled at the fabric to help fan herself. She was rather proud of what she’d dubbed her “running shirt”. It was tan, with an iconic picture of Luke Skywalker with Yoda on his back and the words “May The Force Be With You”, emblazoned across the bottom. She’d cut the sleeves off to make it into a tank top, and thought it quite fitting.
Lingering in the shade of the trees, Chloe debated whether she should go another mile or just turn back. Sandy was already getting her horse saddled when she’d left, and would be in the upper pasture by then. The cattle had started calving, so it was important to make sure they had plenty of grass to graze on, and Chloe’s favorite job was to walk through the tall meadows and check for any newborn calves hidden in the foliage. She’d had no idea baby cows were so darn cute.
Vacillating between the lure of the wilds and the knowledge that Sandy was waiting on her, Chloe squinted up at the craggy peaks. Maybe, if she simply soaked up the calming energy for a few minutes, it would be enough to get her through the rest of the day, and she could come back for an evening run. Having made up her mind, she began to turn away, but some unexpected movement in the distance caused her to freeze.
Thinking it must be an elk or maybe even a bear, Chloe crept forward to get a better view. Whatever it was, it looked like it was on the trail right before it disappeared over the first ridge and down into one of many smaller valleys. The top of that crest was the farthest Chloe had gotten in her explorations, and she knew it was about four miles from where she currently stood.
Frowning, she shrugged her shoulders against a prickling sensation that wound its way up her spine to settle at the base of her neck. That wasn’t an animal. At least, not only an animal. As they made their way down the hillside, Chloe saw that it was, in fact, a horse and rider. A large rider dressed all in black, and he wasn’t alone. Another horse began the descent, also with a man dressed in dark clothing. As a third horse emerged, Chloe spun around and began to run.
Her mind raced and her legs burned as she hurled herself recklessly down the trail, leaping over obstacles and counting on her surefootedness to not let her down. There’d been a growing concern over the safety of the herd and the obvious target they made for any number of groups. The altercation with Jason and his friends at the lake aside, the guards posted on the road had fended off their fair share of roaming, desperate people.
Chloe’s heart surged painfully in her chest as she considered the all-black attire. It suggested an organized threat. She had to consider them dangerous until proven otherwise. That was the mentality Bishop had been hammering into them for the past two weeks. Based on the reports coming in, he was right in his approach.
Barely ducking in time to avoid a low-hanging branch, Chloe gasped and then tossed her water bottle aside. She’d need both of her hands free if she fell. The ranch was less than a mile away, and she knew Bishop would be at the far end of the nearest field, mending the last part of the fence that was destroyed in the storm.
Five minutes later, red-faced and gulping for air, Chloe staggered into the field, her legs threatening to collapse from under her. “Bishop!” she shouted, frustrated by how weak her voice sounded. “Bishop! Riders! Riders are coming!”
She could see him in the distance, an arm raised over his head, about to swing a hammer. Bishop paused and turned, staring at her for a moment before lifting both of his hands at her questioningly. He couldn’t hear her.
Close to panic, Chloe began to wave her arms furiously at him as she forced her body to keep going. “Riders!” she screamed, her voice cracking as she stepped in a low spot and almost fell. Bishop dropped the hammer and started running. Whether he finally heard her or simply realized how frantic she was, it didn’t really matter. He was moving.
They both got to the barn at the same time, and Chloe was surprised at the concern she saw on the older man’s face. He clearly thought something had happened to her. She pointed back the way she’d come and swallowed once to gather her
voice. “A couple miles back, now. There’s a group of people on horses. They’re dressed all in black.”
“How many?”
The speed with which Bishop switched from concern to action was dizzying. Chloe followed as he sped into the barn and ran for the rifles. “Um, I’m not sure. I saw three, I think, but there could be more.”
“Any weapons?” Bishop shouldered a rifle and then yanked the handheld radio off his belt.
“I didn’t see any, but they were too far away to be sure.”
Bishop spoke into the radio while grabbing the second rifle they always stored in the barn. “Sheriff Waters, this is Bishop, come in. We have an urgent situation.”
“Give me the other rifle,” Chloe demanded, holding out a hand. When Bishop frowned at her, she pursed her lips. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m not going inside.”
“Go get Sandy,” he ordered before turning away from her, the other rifle still in his grasp.
“No!” Chloe snapped. She ignored the ache in her thighs as she pushed them to catch up to Bishop. He was already heading back outside. “They’ll be here before I can reach her. Give me the gun!”
Bishop stopped just beyond the open doors of the barn and scowled at her. “The fact that you’d call it a gun and not a rifle is one of the reasons I’m not giving it to you.”
Chloe’s face burned red. “I know how to shoot!”
“Bishop, this is Waters. What sort of situation?”
“Got at least three riders coming down Miner’s Trail. Dressed in black, unknown if armed.” Bishop lowered the radio without waiting for a response, and clipped it back on to his belt as a large black-and-white horse galloped into the far side of the field. Its rider was equally large, and the way he handled the horse left no question as to his ability. He sported a beard, and dark hair stuck out from under a dirty and worn cowboy hat. Chloe could see a gun strapped to his right thigh, and Bishop must have seen it at the same time because he silently thrust the other rifle at her as another rider trotted into view.
