Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(46)

Quinn shoved in behind her, holding the AR-15 in the low ready position, her face bone-white with fear and adrenaline. She took in the nursery’s utter disarray. “Is anyone hurt?”

“It’s over,” Hannah said. “We’re okay.”

“Darn it,” Molly said. “I’m always late to the party.”

Evelyn grimaced. “If this is what you people consider a party, I’ll pass on the next invite.”

Molly wore a white long-sleeved nightgown. Quinn wore an oversized Metallica T-shirt and red snowman pajama bottoms. Neither wore coats. Quinn was barefoot, mud and grass caking the bottoms of her feet.

“Ghost’s barking woke us,” Quinn said. “He sounded ready to take down an army.”

Travis gave a tired smile. “Pretty much.”

“Milo,” Hannah said. “Bishop sent Perez over, but I don’t know if she’s there yet. He’s alone in the house—”

Molly pointed the shotgun at the floor. “Say no more. I’m already there.”

As soon as she’d left, Liam did something to the hostile. He shrieked in anguish.

Travis’s face turned ashen. He left the room with L.J., Evelyn on his heels.

“I’ll stay,” Quinn said.

“I need you to help search the area,” Bishop said. “Go with Perez. Now that Milo’s safe, she’ll call in the reaction force to comb the perimeter.”

Quinn made a face like she wanted to protest, but she headed for the door.

Bishop radioed Reynoso. “You better get over here, Chief. We’ve got quite a mess on our hands.”





31





Liam





Day One Hundred and Ten





“How the hell did these guys get through our perimeter?” Reynoso asked.

“That’s one of the questions this one’s going to answer,” Liam said darkly.

Liam, Bishop, and Reynoso crowded into the nursery. A battery-operated LED lantern hung from a hook by the door provided light. Their pistols were holstered, their long guns stacked against the crib.

Liam held his Gerber MK II tactical knife low at his side.

At the sight of it, the hostile’s eyes widened in fear. Good. Let him piss his pants a little.

By the stench of ammonia in the room, he already had.

It was nearly 0200 hours. They hadn’t bothered to wake the rest of the town council; this was a job for the security force.

Perez had several teams combing Fall Creek in case of a secondary attack. So far, they’d found nothing.

Molly was staying with Milo at Hannah’s house; fortunately, the kid had slept right through the commotion.

Travis and Hannah had settled the babies in the Brooks’ master bedroom, since the nursery was in use for interrogation.

After nursing Charlotte back to sleep, Hannah busied herself in the kitchen, cleaning Ghost with a bucket of fire-warmed water and tending to his injury.

Evelyn and Travis had wrapped the mangled corpse in a tarp and dragged it to the woods behind the property. No one wanted to waste good firewood on burning a body, but they couldn’t leave it for the feral dogs to tear up, either.

Nothing like discovering a severed hand on your back porch with your morning coffee.

As if anyone still had coffee.

Tomorrow, they’d transfer the corpse to the burial pit at the west edge of town, where they’d used a couple of backhoes to dig a hole to bury their dead a safe distance from nearby water sources.

The second hostile would join his partner shortly. But not before Liam got the information he needed.

Liam turned his attention to their prisoner. Outrage thrummed through him. It took incredible self-control to keep himself from tearing this maggot apart with his bare hands.

Forget Ghost. Liam could rip this man’s throat out himself without an iota of remorse.

How close he’d come to losing Charlotte. To losing Hannah.

Jaw clenched, he crouched before the hostile. Bishop and Reynoso stood behind him, watching with hard expressions.

Liam tapped the flat blade of the Gerber against his open palm, the edge glinting. “There’s only one way this ends. How much suffering you endure is up to you.”

“Go to hell!” The hostile still had fire in him, but he was fading. His skin was ashen, the circles beneath his eyes like smudges of charcoal.

They’d tied his ankles with paracord from Liam’s everyday carry case; his hands bound with a pair of Reynoso’s department-issued handcuffs.

His body sported three new holes. One round had torn through the meat of his upper right shoulder. The second buried itself in his upper thigh, missing his femoral artery. The third shot had lodged above his crotch, in his groin.

Hannah had done a damn fine job.

Evelyn had dressed the hostile’s wounds enough to slow the bleeding. She’d used strips cut from a sheet rather than precious bandages, antiseptic, or antibiotics.

“It is my job to heal. To give life, not to take it.” She’d met Liam with a level gaze. “That being said, in times of crisis, we perform triage and focus on the ones we can save. There’s nothing I can do to save this one. Do you understand?”

Liam had nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her voice lowered. Her eyes sparked with anger—and steel. “You, however, are not bound by that oath.”