Day of Reckoning
By
Michelle Lynn
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Michelle Lynn
Artwork by: Neil MacQueen
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United States of America
Praise for the series
Dawn of Rebellion
Day of Reckoning
“Lynn is a wonderful storyteller. Read this now!”
-Bethaney Nielsen, author of Don't Play with Dead Things.
“Lynn's story makes you want to keep reading. She is not afraid to make her heroes suffer, and do the unexpected.”
-C.J. Evans, author of Firecross.
“This is far more than your typical futuristic dystopian thriller, and more action packed than your average fiction. Ambitious, it’s the best genre hybrid I've read in a while.”
-Richard Peters, author of Power Games.
Gram, this one's for you.
Acknowledgments
Life doesn't always turned out the way we planned, but it is the people in our lives that make it all worthwhile. This book is about love and trust. It is about the strangers that turn into family. It is about people doing extraordinary things for one another. I have been blessed with an amazing family. Thank you mom for continuously supporting me in everything I do. Thank you dad for the countless hours you spent talking through ideas, taking part in the editing process and the cover design. None of this would have been possible without you both.
I'd like to thank everyone else who contributed to this book. Linda and your proofreading skills; my network of authors who have spent their time offering feedback as well as reviews; my friends that keep me moving forward with their ongoing encouragement. We were strangers once but now you are family.
Last, but not least, I would never have become a writer if God had not put me in a position to do so. Everything happens for a reason and sometimes we need to find the good in a bad situation. This book is my silver lining.
Preface
Dawn and Gabby, teenage sisters from the east end of London, are finding out that the world is a much harsher place than they ever imagined. Runaway orphans at a young age, they have always had to rely on each other to survive. When Gabby, the elder sister, is arrested and sent to a slave camp in the faraway colonies, Dawn has a decision to make. With help from Gabby's boyfriend, Drew, she finds a way to the colonies to save her sister. While Gabby is fighting for her life as a slave in Floridaland, Dawn and Drew encounter the savage freedom fighters and receive help from a group of American descendants living in a network of caves.
Two of the Americans, Lee and Sam, make the brave decision to join them in their search for Gabby. With their help, Dawn and Drew reach Floridaland. They hatch a plan to free Gabby. Dawn and Lee are caught by the British soldiers and taken to the plantation house rather than the camp. All is lost until a chance encounter restores their hope. The father that the girls were told died when they were young is the general in charge of Floridaland. With his help, Gabby is saved.
Before disappearing, Gabby and Dawn convince the boys to help them break back into the plantation to free Gabby's friend Jeremy.
Everything seems to be falling into place which gives Dawn the chance to sort through her feelings that have developed. Neither girl is the same person that left London. Dawn has fallen for her sister's boyfriend, Drew, and this leaves her confused and vulnerable.
The group has been traveling for days and the attack comes from nowhere. Suddenly, the forest is full of British soldiers. The cheerful, talkative Sam dies when he is struck by a bullet.
In the ensuing chaos Gabby ends up outside of the woods, surrounded by Texas soldiers. She knows nothing of Texas but they must be better than the British, right?
Jeremy and Lee are nowhere to be found and Dawn and Drew are still among the trees when a bomb sets them ablaze.
This is our story so far but there is so much more to tell. Our heroines are only beginning their journey that will change everything.
Chapter 1: Gabby
So, this is Texas. Vicksburg to be exact. The capitol.
I am with my sister Dawn holding her hand and talking to her like nothing has changed when, in truth, everything has changed. They tell me that she’ll wake up when she’s ready and I anxiously wait for that day. I want her back. I also dread that day. When she comes around, I’m going to have to be the one to tell her that Drew is gone.
They found Drew in the woods with Dawn but there was nothing they could do for him. They also found another body with a bullet in his head. I had to identify him. It was Sam. My mind drifts back to that night. Tears well up in my eyes. I blink them away and try to force those images out of my mind. Dawn, how will I be able to tell you that he’s gone?
It's noon and I desperately need some air and to stretch my legs. Reluctantly, I get up to leave Dawn’s bedside and as I walk by the mirror over the hospital sink, I stop. I barely recognize myself. I am a grotty wreck. My beautiful hair is no longer sleek and smooth. It has been frayed and damaged by months on the run. I have a scar above my right eye that is still red and painful to touch. I have grown thin and gaunt and the clothes they have given me hang on me like sacks. I would have never worn anything like this back home; lightweight blue pants and a white shirt; the same as about half the people here. I hate it because I was made to stand out, not to disappear in the crowd. I take the stairs and soon find myself outside.
The Republic of Texas. It’s a strange place. Everything is so…orderly. The streets are pristine and the buildings, every one of them, are made of red brick to match the wall that encircles the city. I’ve been told that this is only one of three walled cities that make up the Republic. I don’t know whether to feel safe or trapped.
People are staring. I used to like it when people stared. I liked the attention. In London, when I caught someone’s eye, it was usually because of my long legs or my blonde hair. I guess ogling would be a better word to describe it than staring. It gave me confidence. But, here in the Republic of Texas, they don’t look my way because they find me beautiful. Here they’re just curious or suspicious and that makes me nervous.
It is close to noon and the streets are full of people. None of them talk to me.
A bell rings from somewhere on my right and, all at once, the crowd on the street starts moving in the same direction and I am pulled along. We wind through the streets until we reach a large building, the only one not made of brick. Instead, it is white, with a pointed roof and large windows. The group funnels through the front doors and we are in a long room lined with benches. There is a table in the front and a man in a black robe standing behind it.
The entire town must be here. No seat is empty and many people stand at the back. I am one of them; opting to stand close to the door so that I can easily leg it if I need to. I don’t know what’s going on here.
The man at the front raises his arms and the room falls silent. “My brothers and sisters,” he begins, “welcome to the house of the lord. God invites his chosen people into his prophet's presence.”
So, this is church, right out in the open. I’ve heard about underground churches in London but mostly only the ones that got raided. I have been taught my entire life to fear church; that it is forbid
den for a reason. I don’t know if I believe that anymore. I am about to sneak out when a woman appears up front. She too wears a robe but it is white this time.
“Faithful followers,” she begins, “as mayor of this city and prophet to the people, I must inform you of the heathens that breached our borders. As God willed it, we took care of the enemy soldiers. Just remember, that those who choose the righteous path that we follow will not go without while those who stray will find this world a harsh place.” I look around and some people are nodding their heads along with this woman's words while others mumble, “Amen.”
Uncomfortable, I move to leave. I barely take a couple steps before two men block my way. They stand with their arms folded across their chests and their feet shoulder width apart.
“The service is not over yet,” one of them says to me, his voice stern. Worshipers are looking toward the door to see what is going on and I can feel their eyes burning on my back.
“You're not going to let me leave?” my voice goes up an octave on the last word. They don't respond. I try to go around them but they force me back. The woman at the front has not stopped her speech and shows no indication that she sees what's going on. At this point, I am fuming. Not wanting to start a row, I don't fight any longer. When the service ends, I want out of there as quickly as humanly possible. I squeeze out the door and take off running back to the hospital. I don't know what the hell is going on here.
Back at Dawn’s side, I sit by her bed and only look up when a nurse comes in. She is one of the only people who will tell me anything. She smiles at me as she checks the monitors for my sister’s vitals.
“I was here an hour ago and didn’t see you,” she says as she changes the IV bags around.
“I went for a walk,” I respond.
“How nice. Did you attend the service? I am always sad when I have to miss it but working at the hospital, you can't just leave.”
“Yes,” I say coldly. I don't want to talk about it and she doesn't press me further.
“How do you like the city?” she asks.
“I haven't decided yet,” I answer honestly.
She must hear the doubt in my voice because she says, “they’ll warm up to you. People here have been through a lot.” I want to say that I doubt they’ve been through as much as me. I want to say that none of their sisters are laying in a coma. I want to say so much more but I don’t. The nurse is only trying to help. Instead, I just nod and watch her leave the room.
“Dawn,” I whisper, “I love you and I’m so sorry. Don’t leave me here alone.”
Chapter 2: Miranda
I look up just as the London skies are about to split open and pelt us with a cold rain. “Shite!” It’s fittingly gray for a day like this. A day that England will never forget. A day that I will never forget.
Earlier today I woke just like any other day in London. I live in one of the army barracks. I went out for some air as soon I got up. By the time I go back in, the lav is jammed with people. I push my way towards the showers and ignore the irritated glances directed my way. I am not in the mood today and I don’t have time to wait in line. None of these women know what the day has in store for me. I let the freezing cold water run the last bits of soap from my hair before wrapping a towel around myself and stepping out. If only the last forty years of my life could be so easily washed away.
I have been part of the rebellion since I was young. I was born into this role, in part, because my father is one of the movement’s leaders. I have not always wanted to play this part, but I’ve never been able to escape it. I thought I had for a few years, but I was wrong, dead wrong. Wanting to get out and live my life cost me dearly. I was fated to be a soldier and there's no escaping destiny.
Once again, I bull my way through the crowd and hurry to my bunk. I put my uniform on and look in the mirror as I button up my collar. I hate what I see. I am a soldier in the British army. Sworn to keep the peace on London’s streets, but I have been betraying this uniform since it was given to me.
I tie my hair into a tight bun and cover it with my cap. I used to be the young and beautiful mother and wife. Now I see an aging widow who abandoned her children. I slip down the back staircase and out onto the street. When I am sure no one is following me, I head for my father’s pub and step in the back door.
I latch the door and find my father waiting for me in the kitchen. He doesn’t look up from where he is sweeping the floor. I watch him in fascination. He looks so ordinary performing this simple task. To his customers, he is ordinary; just another barman who was unlucky enough to be assigned to the service industry. It is the perfect cover for a rebel leader. When no one expects much of him, no one will be suspicious of him.
“Were you followed?” he finally says as he sets aside his broom.
“No,” I respond quickly.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m not a rook,” I answer indignantly. My father nods, distracted. He has a lot on his mind today. Today is the biggest day in the history of our movement.
“I have patrol soon, so why am I here?” I ask. “I already know what I have to do.”
“There’s been a change,” he begins. “The drop will take place a block further north. Any closer and a boy from the east end might look suspicious.”
“Okay,” I say. “I have to go.” I turn towards the door but his voice calls me back.
“You don’t want to eat anything? I've got a morning nosh on the cooker.” I sigh. He would like me to think he cares about my well-being, and he might, just not as much as he cares about his cause. I am more like him than I would care to admit.
“No.” I couldn’t eat if I tried.
“At least take coffee and a biscuit in case anyone asks where you've been.”
“Fine,” I concede as he hands me some food. I keep running over the plan in my mind as I step back out into the pouring rain. I look back at the pub one more time before I leave. From the outside, it looks like any other pub. The difference is that there are automatic weapons underneath the bar and a hidden door in the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later I am out with my patrol. The morning moves along slowly. I joke around with my fellow soldiers. We harass a few homeless and roust a few young toughs. I check my watch again. It’s almost time. I spot him. A young boy in worn clothing with a grotty face is sitting on the street corner with a rucksack at his feet. His name is Caleb. I don’t know anything else about him. Only that it’s another child risking his life for the rebels.
My unit breaks for lunch and I tell them that I have to run to the lav. When I am out of their sight I double back to where I saw Caleb and am relieved that he is still there.
He sees me and walks away, leaving the pack on the ground. I pick it up without stopping and swing it onto my back. I glance around and nobody seems to have noticed. My destination is only blocks away so I make it there in no time. I have to remind myself to breathe; in and out. My heart is pounding in my chest and sweat dots across my brow as I step onto the escalator that will take me down into the largest tube station in London.
The platform is teeming with people going about their busy Saturday. The children, their parents, their grandparents, I see them at every turn. I want to scream and the tube comes and goes as I stand in the middle of the station, unable to move.
At this exact moment there are other rebels doing the same thing as me across the city, on buses, at government buildings, and even shopping centers. I take a deep breath and repeat over and over that this is for freedom and it’s too late now. I move one foot forward and then the next until I am in front of the wall of lockers. I open locker 132 and stuff the pack inside. I jump when I hear three short beeps. It must be time. I only have two minutes now to get away. I run to the nearest escalator.
Coming down the escalator are people who have no idea what’s about to happen. Men in business suits. Teenagers chatting away. A woman looking bored. And a child; a little girl with long blonde hair, a yellow dress an
d a sunflower hat. I see my girls in her angelic face and sweet smile. I look away.
Our escalators pass each other and as soon as I reach the top, I start to run. Suddenly, the ground shakes beneath my feet and I am thrown to my knees. I was told the explosion would be large. It is as if the world is moving in slow motion as stunned men and women pick themselves up from the ground and react to the chaos. People in uniform start sprinting past me towards the station. One of them stops to see if I’m okay. When I convince him that I’m fine, he goes to help someone else.
I had to do it. Today is the day when everything changes. Today is the day we become known.
So why am I crying?
Chapter 3: Drew
I am drowning. The water is poured over my face and I try to choke it out but it just keeps on coming. There is a faint laughing in the background as I flail my arms in an attempt to breathe or break free. I strain against the shackles. I try to scream. I only inhale more water.
Finally, it stops. The water is gone and I am left gasping for air. I try to catch my breath. I don’t know where I am or what is happening to me. Where is Dawn? Or Gabby?
Two men are standing behind me and a third enters the room. At first I can only see his dark figure talking to the others. Then he is right in front of me. He bends down and looks at me. He is so close now that I can see the speckles of green in his eyes. I can smell his breath.
I don’t know what he’s looking for as he stares into my face; maybe a hint of fear? I mean, that’s what these kinds of gits live for right? After a few moments, he backs away and straightens up.
“Leave us,” he says to the other men. He closes the door behind them, loosens the straps holding me to the board, and motions for me to sit up.
“Drew Crawford,” he says. I startle and he continues, “Yes, I know who you are. I also know who your father is.”
Day of Reckoning (Dawn of Rebellion Series Book 2) Page 1
