Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(76)

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Principal King asked.

Quinn touched the thick, itchy scab on her lip. She wasn’t ashamed of it. It was a battle scar. A sign to everyone that she’d survived that fight and would survive the next one, too.

She straightened her shoulders and met Hannah’s gaze. “He asked me not to. He said you would try to stop him, that even though it was the right move, you wouldn’t want him to do it.”

“Damn straight we wouldn’t,” Reynoso said.

Emotions flickered across Hannah’s features in rapid succession—fear, worry, trepidation, doubt. Then, something like acceptance.

Hannah took a steadying breath. “When it comes to tactics and strategy, Liam is smarter than all of us put together. We have to trust his decision, even if it…even if…”

Her chin trembled. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what this meant. That Liam was sacrificing himself. That they would never see him again.

At this moment, the General might be torturing the man they owed their lives to. The man Hannah loved.

Quinn blinked back a surge of hot tears. Hell, they all loved Liam. Quinn did. He was freaking Wolverine. Not two weeks ago, he’d risked his hide for a stupid teenager without a second thought.

She’d just lost Gran. The prospect of losing Liam was too terrible to contemplate.

The cavernous room thrummed with strained silence. No one spoke.

Bishop reached across the table and enveloped Hannah’s crooked fingers in his huge ones. “Hannah—”

The uncertainty in her face vanished, her mouth pressing into a thin line. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it. But now, we have to be as strong as he is. We have to be smarter and braver than we’ve ever been. If we fail, everyone we love dies.”

Quinn grimaced. “No pressure or anything.”

“Hannah is right,” Bishop said. “We pray Liam accomplishes what he set out to do. And in the meantime, we do what we’ve been trained for.”

Quinn stepped forward. “If this is Fall Creek’s last stand, let it never be said we didn’t go down without one freaking hell of a fight.”

Jonas, who’d been sitting next to his mother, leapt to his feet. “I’m in.”

“Can’t let the young’uns outdo us.” Bishop pushed back his chair, stood, and looked each person in the eye, radiating a quiet, steely confidence. “God be with us.”

Perez shot to her feet. “Let’s go kill some bad guys.”

Hannah stood next. Around the room, everyone followed suit. Dave and Principal King. Reynoso, Perez, and Bishop. Corinne Marshall. Even Wiggins.

Everyone looked scared, gaunt, and grim. But they also looked stronger, tougher.

“What now?” Wiggins asked.

“We sound the church bell alarm,” Reynoso said. “We’re calling everyone in. All hands on deck. Everyone knows what to do and where to go. The noncombatants will head to the bomb shelters again as our last-ditch fallback position. Every able-bodied citizen is to report to their duty stations. We have to protect the north blockade at all costs. Bishop takes south. I take north—”

Reynoso’s radio beeped. Robert Vinson’s voice came through. “This is Echo Four reporting from the Snow Road blockade. We’ve got visitors.”





55





Quinn





Day One Hundred and Fifteen





Quinn’s adrenaline spiked. She drew her Beretta and held it in the low ready position. Everyone went for their weapons, drawing shotguns and pistols, rifles and revolvers.

“This is Alpha Two,” Bishop said. “Who is it, Echo Four?”

A beat of static. “Mick Sellers, a woman named Dallas Chapman, and a big redhead calling himself Flynn. They’re on horseback. They say they’re Community Alliance representatives, and they need to speak to the town council. It’s urgent.”

“Let them through,” Hannah said.

“They’ve been nothing but trouble!” Corinne said. “We helped them again and again, and they’ve never lifted a finger to aid us! Our people died because they abandoned us against the militia!”

“I’m with her,” Quinn said. “Screw them and the horse they rode in on. Literally, in this case.”

“I know,” Hannah said evenly. “Still, I invited them here. Granted, that was several days ago. But the offer still stands.”

Corrine grimaced but didn’t argue. Quinn bit her tongue. They had too much to do to waste time with these yahoos.

“Let them through,” Bishop said.

“Copy that,” Vinson said over the radio. “Sending them through now.”

A few minutes later, Mick, Flynn, and Dallas entered town hall, escorted by Robert Vinson and Jamal Duncan.

The Fall Creek sentries had divested them of their weapons. The pharmacist carried his hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.

Jamal remained at the door to keep watch while Vinson gestured for their visitors to approach.

Quinn watched them with narrowed, suspicious eyes. She’d heard plenty about these jokers. Liam had always been leery of them. She was, too.

The one called Flynn towered over the other two. A redheaded guy sporting a bushy beard that reached his chest, he looked like a Hell’s Angels biker.