CHAPTER ONE
Ava
STUCK BETWEEN THE inner and outer door was a lonely place to be. My lips tightened as I glanced at the Colt in my hand before tucking it into the deep pocket of my coat. It was old and had a tendency to jam, which meant I had a fifty-fifty chance that it would be of any use. That said, I had no desire to be in a situation where I needed to use it. If it came down to killing, or even wounding someone, I prayed that my self-preservation instinct kicked in. Etiquette had no place in the post-apocalyptic world.
Still, how a person handled fear was not something you knew, not until you were called upon to face it, and by then, it was far too late.
The one-minute warning flashed up on the door panel, and my adrenaline kicked in. I wasn’t supposed to be out here, and the wrongness was like an oversized raincoat that no amount of belt-tightening could make fit.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Ava?” Nora had asked, her frown one of concern. I blinked, driving the memory away. We needed medical supplies. Unfortunately, our small combat-trained team had been cut off, leaving the community in an unusual situation of needing to fend for itself. Their message had been garbled due to interference, but it was clear something had kicked off. It happened from time to time—the changing ownership of the surrounding districts was nothing new. The fact remained that our team would not be returning for several days, possibly weeks.
I was the best of the remaining residents, which wasn’t saying much.
My past life—the life I had been born to—was long gone. My parents were wealthy, and my life a coveted one. They had aspirations for me; I had plenty myself. That once joyous future had died along with them.
The harsh reality of anarchy was that it cared little for who you once were. The good, the bad, the rich, and the poor held no context in the bounds of chaos. I had watched mothers fight over food in those dark days immediately after the collapse. They might have been friends once in that other world, but not anymore. The need to survive ripped everything else away; considerations, respect, compassion even. They held no sway when your baby was so hungry it had barely the energy to cry.
Things were better now—a little.
The ten-second count sent a spike to my heart rate. I fluctuated between a firm belief that I could do this and a terrible fear I couldn’t until the hiss of the outer door opening dropped the entire self-discussion because it was all now very pointless.
A strange calm replaced the panic. It was dark, and the air felt sharp and cold against my face. It had been so long since I’d felt air on my face, real air, not the processed, filtered stuff inside, that I was cast back to the garden of my childhood home. The memory was so vivid that I could almost feel the springy grass beneath my bare toes, and smell the sweet scent of the honeysuckle that grew over the stone walls.
The stench of diesel drifted on the air, thrusting me back to the present with an unpleasant jolt.
I stepped outside and turned to watch the outer-door close behind me, sealing access. Separation became a crushing weight. I was here now, on the streets, and I would not be going back until I had gotten what was needed.
A deep breath helped as I surveyed the immediate area. It was wet, and although it wasn’t raining, the air held moisture like it could turn at any moment. Deserted; the surveillance before leaving had indicated this, but it could change, and like the weather, it could change at any time.
I knew the route by memory, and with a final lingering glance at that sealed door, I headed off.
Nora
“I’m worried about Ava,” I said. I was talking to Mary, but my focus was all on my baby boy. Civilization had imploded, but the tiny, needy bundle in my arms only instilled the keenest sense of wonder. My love for him was absolute.
Enough to let my friend leave to get the medication he needed.
The thought of Ava coming to harm terrified me, but not nearly as much as the thought of losing my son. I’d wanted to go, but the birth had been complicated, and nine months later, I was still struggling to regain my strength.
With a surname like O’Reilly and red hair, it was fair to say there was a bit of Irish blood in me. Once upon a time, I’d had the temper to match and considered myself mentally tough.
Life had gotten complicated long before Adam; it was a thousand times worse now. But I only had to look at his innocent face to know what was important. If my emotions sometimes got the better of me now, I would get over it for Adam’s sake.
“She’ll be fine,” Mary said. “Whatever’s happening in the northern district appears to be isolated. Added bonus of keeping things quiet around here.”
Despite being in her seventies, Mary was still sprightly and resilient as hell. People rarely talked about the world before—too painful—so I didn’t know her story. But I got the impression Mary was a survivor of more than the societal collapse. She volunteered to go in Ava’s place since she could handle a gun and herself, even at seventy-something. Ava wasn’t biting, and this, despite me believing that Mary had the edge if it went to the wire.
Mary leaned over the console to take the monitoring keys and manually rotated through the surveillance cameras. The operation room was empty except for the two of us. From here, we could monitor all the outside camera feeds. Not that we were expecting Ava back yet, but there was comfort in watching the screens and seeing that everything remained quiet.
The data center that became a home to our community consisted of nearly thirty people. Somewhere along the line, it had been named Sanctuary. In the seventeen years since the war had ended, a lot had changed in society, if you could even call it society any more. I’d lived more years in the after-life, and memories of that old world held only a dream-like quality in my mind. I’d moved around a lot before finding Sanctuary. Disparity existed between the many pockets of humanity. Each had their culture, rules, and laws, or lack thereof.
I had lived in communities of thousands and of five. They’d all had a common theme. I’d run from one to another, always hoping for better until the day I crossed paths with Sanctuary scouts. It had sounded too good to be true. But I was pregnant, alone, and desperate enough to take a risk. As it turned out, it was the best risk I’d ever taken and the start of something good.
“She knows where to go and what to do,” Mary said, reminding me that while Sanctuary was good, the world at large was not. “And she cares about Adam as much as you. She won’t take risks in this, not where her favorite little boy is concerned.”
I smiled, but it faded. “Yeah, it’s more her killer instinct that worries me.”
Mary made a scoffing noise and the corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement. “She doesn’t belong on this side of the apocalypse, that’s for sure. But I don’t reckon any of us do. Maybe except my Walt. I’d have liked to see that bastard suffer some, but he went and had a heart attack the day before the shit hit the fan. Some folks have all the luck.”
“How come I’m only hearing about your nefarious plans for this mysterious Walt now?” I teased.
She cackled to herself before wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.
Her humor faded, and she huffed out a sigh. “Ah, Nora, don’t you feel it?” She gestured toward the monitors where the damp, dark streets remained eerily quiet. “Change is coming. Don’t know if it’s a good kind of change, like the day I happened upon Sanctuary. Or the bad kind, like the day I happened on my Walt. But it’s coming, and not a damn thing either of us can do about it. We can only buckle up and get ready for the ride. Don’t talk about the past much. That’s the rule. Don’t think of it much either, truth be told. Except for times like these when the hustling begins again.”