Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(80)

“If they’d relinquished you as ordered by their sovereign government, they’d be sitting at their dinner tables, eating apple pie right now. It was their choice to defy the law—and suffer the consequences.”

“It was your choice to open fire, and yours alone. People just want to protect their families and survive. The only one asking for trouble is you. Leave us alone.”

The General snapped his fingers. “Chair.”

Luther slipped out of the industrial freezer and returned a moment later with a metal folding chair. He placed it about six feet from Liam’s position.

The General sat down facing Liam. He had impeccable posture, just like his daughter. He folded his gnarled hands in his lap. “I’ve sent a team to retrieve my great-granddaughter. I will bring her to Lansing with me. I’ve already procured a wet nurse and a nanny. Unlike the rest of you, I will provide her with proper food, medical care, and education. She will outlive me and carry the Sinclair name into the future. It will not end with me, but will go on forever.”

“You’re delusional. She’s not a Sinclair. She never will be.”

“As for the rest of the town—” The General gestured was as though washing his hands of them. “Let me tell you what will happen since you won’t be present to see it. As we speak, my soldiers are preparing for battle. At dawn, they’ll descend upon Fall Creek and shred your flimsy barricades. They will mow down your civilians with targeted artillery. Mortar shells will blast them to pieces. There will be little left to identify the bodies afterward.”

Liam strained against his restraints to no avail. Dread sprouted in the pit of his stomach and formed teeth and claws.

A trim, muscled man strode into the room. His hard gaze zeroed in on Liam. “Why the hell is he still alive?”

“To suffer is good for the soul, Gibbs,” the General said.

“This dirtbag killed Matherson, Thomas, and Garcia!” Gibbs spat.

Hostility vibrated off the General’s men in waves. Hate flashed in their eyes. Liam had eliminated several of their own. They weren’t going to forget it.

They wanted to see him suffer.

If the General didn’t kill him, they certainly would. Slowly and painfully.

“And he will pay for it,” the General said. “But first, he will pay for my daughter.”

“Your daughter was a murderous tyrant,” Liam said. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

The General smiled, his eyes cold and ruthless. A predator’s eyes. “Within the next six hours, everyone you love will die. They will be afraid. They will suffer. And they will call out your name, and you will not be there to save them.”

He leaned forward, that rictus of a smile fixed upon his face. “You cannot save them.”





59





Liam





Day One Hundred and Fifteen





Liam trembled with black rage. He loathed this man with every fiber of his being. With great effort, he resisted the urge to launch himself at the General and smash the man’s face in with his head.

The General nodded at Gibbs. The operator stepped forward, quicker than he looked, and threw a savage haymaker punch to Liam’s nose.

Liam fell back, toppling sideways. Pain exploded from his nose and radiated through his cheekbones, his sinuses, and into his skull. He nearly blacked out from the pain.

He struggled to put it in a box, to focus on his mission.

As long as he wasn’t dead, there was still a chance.

“You’ll never get away with this.”

“I already have.”

“You can’t murder an entire town. Not even now. Word will get out. It always gets out. You think most of those five hundred National Guardsmen are sociopaths like you? They’re not. There will be consequences. You will be brought to justice.”

The General gave a hard bark of laughter. “You have no idea what’s happening in the outside world, do you? You know why no one’s coming? Why you haven’t seen any military other than a few scraggly National Guard?”

Liam said nothing. Hot blood leaked from his throbbing nose. It ran down his chin and dripped to his bare chest. A few droplets struck the concrete floor.

The General smiled, like he was enjoying this. “We’re at war. World War III. It’s been going on for months, and no one has any idea.”

A shuffling sound behind him. Low murmuring and wary looks exchanged among the General’s men. Apparently, he hadn’t made his bodyguards privy to the intel.

“China and Russia conspired against us. We didn’t know that at first, of course. They made it look like Iran attacked us. They weren’t supposed to have nukes. They did. The U.S. Army nuked them in retaliation. What do you think the Middle East looks like? They’re one of the few regions worse off than we are, I’ll tell you that.

“Russia and the remains of the U.S. military are engaged in a vicious proxy war over the ashes of the Middle East. The U.N. is impotent. Everyone is terrified either Russia or the U.S. will use nukes again.”

Liam rocked back, reeling. “Why would our own government keep that secret from us?”

“Why, indeed. The President declared martial law and seized federal control of all networks, cell towers, radio—everything. The feds realized that without nationwide communication, social media, or even functioning news outlets, they could keep things under wraps.