Last Stand: Book 3 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: (The Last City - Book 3)

by Kevin Partner

  "Come on, Paul. For once, you deserve it."

  Hick looked up at the dark face. "Devon. It don't feel right to celebrate, somehow."

  He felt the warmth spreading through his hands from the mug of coffee. Where had that come from? Never in his life had he felt so exhausted. When did he last sleep? He was way too old to go a couple of days without shut-eye. Especially when he'd been in the firing line for most of it.

  Turned out, having to make life-and-death decisions was not as much fun as he'd imagined.

  A hand grasped his. "Paul, welcome back. You did good, my friend. I would have given anything to see you take down that chopper, and Crawford with it."

  "Hey, Gert."

  He felt himself led to a low table and directed into a small chair.

  "When did you last eat?"

  Someone sat in the chair next to him. "He's been like this since the enemy trucks started moving away. It was as if his mind and body have been given permission to shut down. I left Vern and a dozen others to watch the barricade and brought him here."

  "Well done, Lynda. Now, you eat your cereal, Paul."

  Mechanically, Hickman lifted the spoon to his lips and chewed on crunchy carbs and marshmallow. The milk was thin—the canteen had been watering down the powdered stuff to make it last—but he felt the effect of the sugar almost immediately.

  Somebody nearby whispered something about a diabetes test, but he didn't listen. He was too busy emerging from the fog into the bright light of victory.

  When he finally looked up, he saw Devon and Gert sitting opposite. "So, what's the situation here?" he said.

  Devon began counting points on his fingers. "The sheriff's moved the three surviving terrorists to the town jail where they get to share a cell made for one. We got everyone who's ever been near a hospital helping to care for the sick, but we're keeping the gym clear until we can clean it up in the morning."

  "What happened to … what was his name? Messier?"

  Gert smiled. "Oh, he died. Nice and slow at the hands of Martha Bowie."

  "I'm worried about her," Devon said. "Her son was murdered in front of her, Joe was shot and her father got beaten up badly by the terrorists."

  "Sounds like she got her revenge," Hick responded.

  Devon looked through the window at the artificially lit courtyard outside and the black sky above. "True, but I don't think that's going to help her mental state. We need to keep an eye on her."

  Hick shrugged. He was rapidly returning to normal operations, and he wasn't too concerned about Martha Bowie. "So, we won."

  "We saw off the first attack," Gert said. The big Dutchman looked ridiculous as he sat in a chair designed for a child, bent in half over the cafeteria table. But there was no mistaking the seriousness of his expression. "We did well, but we got lucky. If Devon and Joe hadn't attacked when they did, a lot more people would have died in there."

  "How many did we lose?"

  "Here? Five. Waydon took a bullet to the head while him and DD were tryin' to keep the copter crew pinned down. I lost two of my squad when we rushed the gym. And they shot Jenson and another hostage. Haven't counted the wounded, but it's gonna be more than twice that number."

  Lynda sighed. "And you know that Gil died at the barricade. And Ward, of course."

  "Well, I ain't cryin' any tears for McAndrew," Hickman said, rising from his seat and looking around at the people of Hope gathered in the cafeteria. "Now we gotta lick our wounds and bury our dead. And then we're gonna celebrate our victory because you folks, you stayed and fought when you might've followed the convoy."

  A cheer erupted all around him, but he waved them to silence again.

  "And then we're gonna get our folks back home, and we're gonna dig in. We won this time, and we cut the head off that snake …"

  Someone called out, "You did that! Shot down the chopper!"

  Hick smiled, feeling heat spreading through his body. "It was a victory for Hope and we all share in it," he said, though he would claim it as his own at the right time. "But make no mistake, they will be back, them or others like 'em. And we will be ready! Are you with me?"

  The survivors of the battle for Hope cheered him and Paul Hickman smiled. To the victor belong the spoils.

  LAST CITY Book 4

  Available Here

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