The man was smaller than himself, but he was a fighter. He jumped to his feet, swinging out and connecting with Austin’s jaw. The blow sent him reeling into the railing, his tall frame bending backwards as the rail caught his back. Zander was on him in a flash. Austin pushed against Zander, nearly knocking himself over the railing with the force. It gave him the space he needed to get away from his tenuous position. He was about to throw another punch when he was hit from behind. The blow knocked him to his knees and made his head spin. He fought to keep from passing out, slowly turning to see his attacker and Wendell standing there, a look of pride on the small man’s face as he smiled. There was a steel pipe in his hand.

  “Wendell?” Austin murmured, trying to understand what was happening.

  “Thanks,” Zander sneered. “I knew you’d come in handy eventually.”

  “I told you I was on your side!” Wendell assured him, smiling at Austin and then Zander.

  Austin felt sickened to see Wendell’s outright betrayal coming around as a deciding force again. He didn’t have long to dwell on it, however. Zander kicked him hard in the ribs, knocking him to his side and making him gasp for air. Wendell took that as his cue to imitate the move and kicked him from behind, the toe of his boot hitting him in the kidneys. It was blow after blow as the two men kicked him in his torso and head. Austin curled into a fetal position, trying to protect his body and doing his best to shield his head with his arms. He knew he was going to die, and at the hands and feet of not just Zander, but Wendell, as well, which made it all the worse.

  A single gunshot stopped the violent kicks to his body. He opened his eyes and rolled to the side, attempting to crawl away. His body throbbed all over, and he could feel blood trickling down the side of his face, likely from the blow to the back of his head. He recognized Ennis’s boots and looked up. He was thrilled to see his brother—until he saw the red patch on his stomach. He’d been injured and was bleeding badly. Wendell lay dead now, a gunshot wound to his head. Austin struggled to stand up. Ennis held the gun on Zander, his face a sickly pale, his hand shaking with the effort. Austin saw how dangerously weak his brother was, but he wasn’t in much better shape himself.

  “Shoot him!” Austin ordered, his voice barely above a whisper as he fought to recover from the beating he’d just taken.

  Before Ennis could pull the trigger, Zander dove at him, but he tripped over Austin’s foot and fell into Ennis rather than delivering the hard tackle he’d intended. He heard his brother grunt, Zander cursing, and then the two of them slammed into the railing.

  “Die!” his brother shouted as the two flipped over the railing, Zander’s body on top of Ennis’s.

  A gunshot rang out, followed by Zander’s shout of pain a split second before a sickening thud echoed up through the room.

  Austin screamed, using the rail to pull himself up as he looked over the edge to verify what he had heard.

  “No!” he shouted, staring down at his brother’s broken body. A pool of blood was forming around him. His eyes were staring up at him, but seeing nothing. He was dead. Zander wasn’t moving, either. His neck was grossly twisted. Austin hoped he was alive and suffering. Zander deserved to suffer dearly for the pain he had caused over the last few months. The victory over Zander was bitter, though. His heart ached at staring into his brother’s lifeless eyes, even as he vowed to make sure his death wouldn’t be in vain.

  He gingerly pulled himself to his feet. His head was spinning, and there was a stitch in his back that had him doubled over. He hobbled along the catwalk, making his way back to the tunnel that led to the center. He had to find Sarah. He hoped she was still alive. He needed her to do her thing with the computers below. In moments, the sound of gunfire had him pressing his body against the wall.

  Just because he’d won the battle, that didn’t mean he had won the war. He wanted to sink to his knees and sob, but he couldn’t. He had to keep going. He carefully poked his head out the door and saw a soldier down, his gun lying beside him. Austin grabbed it, prepared to take out as many of Zander’s men as he could.

  And then he looked out the window, and he froze. “What the—” he muttered, staring at men and women in desert fatigues shooting at the men wearing black jumpsuits.

  Had the cavalry finally arrived? He watched the gun battle for a few seconds more before remembering he had to get to Sarah. He rushed towards one office door, forcing it open and finding the space empty before opening a second door. There, he found her, bloodied and bruised and looking like she was barely breathing.

  “Sarah?” he whispered.

  “I’m here,” she said, clearly not seeing him.

  “Sarah, it’s Austin,” he said, crouching behind her and quickly untying her arms before moving to untie her ankles.

  “Austin?” She sounded confused.

  “Zander’s dead. I’m here. The computer center is cleared out. The United States military is here. They’re killing them,” he said.

  “We have to hurry. I’m afraid I’m going to lose consciousness again,” she muttered, her voice weak but still holding that all-business attitude.

  “Can you walk?” he asked.

  She shook her head, moaning at the movement. “My legs are broken.”

  His eyes widened as he realized she had to be in shock. Two broken legs had to have her in excruciating pain. His own injuries prevented him from carrying her, though. He looked to the desk and quickly grabbed the office chair, wheeling it to where she was barely staying upright in the chair. He very carefully moved her into the wheeled chair and pushed her towards the bunker.

  “Hang on. We’ll get you help,” he assured her as he pushed her down the long tunnel that led underground.

  They made it to the computer center and he turned the chair carefully, walking backwards down the ramp to the ground floor to prevent her from being dumped out. She sucked in a breath when she saw the two bodies lying on the floor.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  “So am I. There’ll be time for that later. Can you tell me what to do?” he asked anxiously.

  “Push me up to that terminal. I can see out of my right eye. I’ll need you to put my hands on the keyboard,” she said, her voice weak.

  He very gently lifted her hands, her wince of pain making him wish he could kill Zander all over again. He watched in amazement as her fingers moved over the keyboard. She was a remarkable woman. She paused once, seeming to slowly draw in a breath before continuing what she was doing.

  “You’re doing great,” he encouraged her.

  “Like you would know,” she quipped breathlessly.

  He grinned from behind her, happy she still had her very dry sense of humor intact. She tapped away before her hands stopped moving.

  “Sarah?” he questioned.

  “It’s done.”

  “It’s done?”

  “Yes. Let’s hope Amanda has managed to do her part,” she breathed out. “I’m tired,” she mumbled, “so tired, and it’s done…” her voice trailed off, and then her head slumped forward slightly.

  “Sarah?”

  She didn’t answer. He carefully turned the chair. Sarah’s head dropped forward, her body slack. He gulped before carefully extending his fingers to her neck. He detected a pulse—faint, but it was there.

  Pulling the sat. messenger out, he typed in the message: Ready here. Launch now. He wanted to say so much more, but the shorter the message, the more likely it would get through clearly and not overtax either device’s battery. And, really, what more was there to say? He clicked send, waiting and watching as the cursor blinked back at him for what felt like forever before indicating the message had been sent. Blowing out a breath, he left Sarah in the computer center and made his way back up the tunnel to check on the firefight. He needed to see if the coast was clear before he attempted to get her—or himself—help.

  “Dad!” he heard a familiar voice cry out.

  At first, he thought maybe he was dead. But he turned his head toward the voice anyway, and saw Savannah racing towards him. Malachi was right behind her, accompanied by a woman who looked very much like a military commander.

  Savannah threw her arms around him, squeezing him, hurting him and infusing him with strength at the same time. He hugged her close, tears streaming down his face. She pulled away, her hands going to his face. “Oh God, you’re hurt.”

  “I’m okay. I’m fine,” he assured her, catching his breath and telling himself that this was real—this was happening. He had his daughter back.

  Malachi stepped forward, a smile on his face. “I told you I could do it.”

  He chuckled, the action jarring his ribs as he tightened his hold on his daughter. “Yes, you did. Thank you, Malachi.”

  “Dad, this is Macbeth. She brought her unit to help you guys. Where is everyone?” she asked, suddenly realizing it was just him.

  “Savannah,” he began, and then he choked on his brother’s name.

  “Uncle Ennis?” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

  He slowly shook his head. Her hand clasped over her mouth, tears filling her eyes. “Oh no.”

  “Was Harlen out there?” he asked.

  “I didn’t see him,” Malachi answered.

  Austin closed his eyes briefly before shaking off the pain. His brother had sacrificed his life to save Austin. It was going to be one of those things that stuck with him for as long as he lived. He could grieve later, he reminded himself.

  “Sir, it’s good to meet you. Your daughter filled me in on what you guys plan to do. Was your mission successful?”

  “Yes. Well, this side of it. Now we have to wait.”

  Savannah was quietly sobbing. A little boy stepped forward and grabbed her hand. “It’ll be okay,” he soothed her.

  Austin looked at Malachi for answers, wondering how in the world they had ended up with this child as a companion.

  “This is Andy. He and Savannah kind of found each other. He’s with us now,” he said firmly.

  Austin looked at the little boy and offered a smile. “Hi Andy. I’m Austin.”

  The boy hid partially behind Savannah’s body. Austin didn’t know the story, but imagined it wasn’t something that could be explained away in the next few minutes.

  “I need to get back to the bunker and check on Sarah,” he said. “She needs medical attention, and we need to see if Harlen made it through the fight—last I saw him, he and Ennis were firing on NWO soldiers.”

  “I have a medic. He can check you out,” Macbeth said, and with an extra-calm voice that suggested she thought he might be in shock. Austin wasn’t sure she was wrong, but that didn’t change anything.

  “He needs to check out Sarah first; she’s in rougher shape than me.”

  36

  Amanda paced the small room, anxious to follow through with her mission. For the last hour, while they’d waited on the airmen, she’d paced restlessly back and forth staring at the messenger and willing Austin to send her the go. She wouldn’t turn it on to check yet, as she didn’t want to waste battery and had to wait on these men anyway, but without a message, she had no way of knowing if Austin had succeeded. It was a shot in the dark. The door opened, and all of them turned to stare at the two men who had brought in a third, this one with graying hair and a set to his face that suggested many years of service. She looked to his sleeve, saw the extra stripes, and knew he was the one in charge.

  “I’m Amanda Peterson,” she said, stepping forward.

  “General Silas. The men tell me you want to launch our missiles and you have the codes to do so?” he said, his voice gruff.

  She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “That, and the story they’ve related to me, sounds rather insane,” he told her flatly.

  “Yes, sir, I know it does, sir, but I swear to you, this is real. Very real, in fact, and every minute we waste talking about the merits of our plan could be aiding the NWO.”

  She quickly filled him in on what the plan was, showing him the sat. messenger and stressing the importance of timing. At first, she didn’t think he believed her. The man had a stone-cold look on his face, his arms folded over his chest as she spoke. When she was through, his expression hadn’t changed. There was no indication of which way he was leaning. It wasn’t until he’d mulled it over for several excruciating minutes that he finally nodded.

  “We’ll take you downstairs. We have a first aid kit for your man, as well,” he said, looking to Drew.

  “Thank you,” she gasped, fighting back emotions.

  “I’ve heard it’s bad out there,” the lieutenant general commented.

  “It is. It’s terrible, and if the NWO is allowed to continue, there will be nothing left. It’s dangerous and deadly,” she said, looking him directly in the eyes.

  “I understand. We’ve had minimal contact, all through Morse code. It’s a little hard to explain details in that fashion,” he quipped dryly.

  “Is the government still functioning?” she asked.

  The man cringed. “We’re at bare bones. We get some Morse code and we’ve picked up some transmissions over our one working satellite, but I can’t tell you who’s where and what’s happening. We could have used some of those messengers like you have,” he told her, eyeing it.

  “We got two off of an NWO soldier. We’re assuming that’s how some of them have been communicating,” she said, relieved to finally be talking to someone on their side.

  “Do you have the target coordinates?” the general asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He stared at her, obviously waiting for her to tell him.

  “Um, my friends were supposed to somehow transmit them via the computer link at their end, setting up the launch, and then let me know we’re a go by using this,” she explained, holding the messenger up again. With that, she finally turned the messenger on, holding her breath as she did so. And, while it turned on, no message popped up. She let out her breath. “But I haven’t heard from them yet,” she said, more quietly.

  While one of the men attended to Drew under Gretchen and Tonya’s watchful eye, Ezra and Amanda followed the general into the launch center.

  “Sir, we’ve received a transmission from Boise,” a young woman announced. “The airmen we’ve been in contact with are on the other end, but it sounds like we have communication from the other half of this woman’s group, who are now with Airmen at a base the NWO were holding.”

  Amanda almost vomited with relief when she offered the general their all-important launch codes. The other group had made contact, the mission was out of her hands, and Austin was alive. He’d done what he’d set out to do. Amanda looked to the general, waiting for him to order the launch. In her hand, she still held the messenger, which had given her hope up to this point. Whether it was broken or not, she didn’t know, or maybe something had happened to Austin’s, but that no longer mattered.

  “Let’s do this,” the general said in a stern voice.

  Amanda and Ezra watched quietly as codes and sequences were called out. They checked and rechecked codes, entering them on a keyboard and verifying their information until a green light bloomed on the screen.

  “Sir, we’re ready,” the young woman sitting at the terminal said.

  “You’re sure about this?” the general asked Amanda.

  Amanda took a second to think about it, and then, suddenly, her messenger beeped and she looked down at the incoming message. A smile lit her face as she confirmed, “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “If we launch those missiles and shoot down our own satellites, we could be further crippling our country,” he warned her.

  “Yes, sir, I understand that, but those satellites are not in the government’s control. At any time, the NWO could launch those missiles, and there’s a good chance they’d be using those satellites to induce another EMP and counteract any efforts the government is currently undertaking to get things back under control and the grid up and running. Those are nuclear warheads, am I correct?” she asked, going off of what Sarah had told her.

  “Yes.”

  “If the NWO is in control of those warheads, the entire world is at risk. I’ve met several of them. They would not hesitate to use those weapons to destroy the planet. They are martyrs—suicide bombers, if you will,” she said. “With them controlling those satellites and those warheads, we are all in danger.”

  He nodded, turning back to face the screens. “Launch the missiles,” he ordered.

  Amanda and Ezra stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the computer screen as it showed the missiles shooting into the sky. Within what felt like seconds, the monitors showed the trajectories and destinations of each missile. And then another caught her eye.

  “What’s wrong with that one? Is it broken?” she asked.

  The general smiled, shaking his head. “Not broke at all. Those are the coordinates.”

  “Where is it going?” she asked, worried someone had missed a number.

  “New Mexico,” one of the young men at the computer announced.

  Amanda gasped. “No! They’re supposed to be going into space!”

  “Those are the right coordinates,” the man replied.

  Ezra and Amanda exchanged a look of horror. “What did we do?” she moaned.

  “Pull up our map, tell me where that thing is headed,” General Silas ordered.

  There was a lot of tapping on the keyboards, and then an image came onto one of the display screens. “Sir, it’s Alamogordo, New Mexico. White Sands.”

  General Silas hissed through his teeth. “That’s Holloman.”

  Amanda was shaking her head. “Air Force? We just bombed our own Air Force base?” she asked, her mouth going dry.

  “We lost that base a couple days before the EMP,” he told her.

  “What? How? Why wasn’t it in the news?”

  “It wasn’t known to us that the base had been lost until hours before the EMP. The NWO had infiltrated the command system. They were hiding right under our noses and none of us were the wiser. They took over the base, killed those that tried to fight back, and ran the rest of them off. We had just begun hostage negotiations when everything happened. They used a similar maneuver to initiate a coordinated attack across the country. They launched warheads that detonated in the atmosphere all across the country and over other nations around the world. We were helpless to do anything. The damage had been done. I think this is swift justice. The NWO are going to be toast in about thirty seconds. That’s their central command, and we’re hitting it.” A grim smile played across his lips.

 

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