Chapter 13
Rage
Because of human error, half the nuclear detonations had been at low altitude. While there’d been widespread destruction, the range of the subsequent electromagnetic pulse accompanying the mass catastrophe had been limited.
That wasn’t to say that systems hadn’t been wiped out almost in their entirety, but there’d been protections put into play ahead of time, entirely different systems created allowing for some communication and machinery to continue being used.
Many because my father had sought to protect the people he’d sworn an oath to serve.
And also because he’d had a man whispering in his ear he had been able to trust. A prophet.
While I couldn’t ascertain what the knowledge would create or how it would affect us, what I did know was that Star was in danger. The entire community was.
Bunkers as well as domed cities authorized by the former president and members of congress had been equipped with instrumentations useful in allowing at least the most important aspects of governance and survival tactics to be in place for after the End of Days.
Top secret and with only a few dozen people in on the capabilities, the extensive plans were thought to be a foolproof method of getting the country back up and running in stages.
Given that the basic infrastructure was already in place, the domes impervious to bombs, phase one had been in place.
However, the war had been initiated months earlier than anyone had anticipated, peace talks breaking down.
Not nearly enough of the cities had been built nor had they been tested. That had severely complicated the lottery system that had already been established, creating rage from day one.
The warning system touted to provide notice had mostly failed, the cities yet to be completed destroyed from the inside out.
Years had been stripped away, the plans in motion jeopardized. Even before the system failures, anarchy had already been in the works.
Sadly, my father either hadn’t embraced the full extent of betrayal or had been so determined to be the same leader he’d been before the war that he’d stopped checking his back for knives.
For a heavy percentage of survivors, my father wasn’t seen as a hero, but as a man who’d been the sole reason we’d gotten into the war in the first place. He’d been a man of integrity and honor, which had allowed evil to overcome his good intentions.
Maybe my memories were jaded, but the man who’d slit his throat certainly hadn’t had the best intentions for the American people in mind. Only his own.
I’d been too young to understand everything, my father forced to keep the politics and the work on survival of the fittest from his own family.
I’d only started asking questions prior to the bombs because of a new report I’d accidentally seen, reporters asking questions about the domed cities.
At seven I’d been fascinated with the thought of living under one giant tent.
The memories were still intact, the drugs unable to strip them from me. Either that or they’d been purposely driven into dormancy to protect me.
Much like whatever secret was surrounding Star had been kept from her. I didn’t know the specifics. I didn’t give a damn about them. I was fulfilling my obligation and that was all I planned on doing. I had my own agenda that I would accomplish even to the tune of my death.
Killing every single bastard response for slaughtering my family.
Obviously, the desire had carried me for years, including in the early days of being a Verndari when the missions had been about bringing certain survivors to the domed cities.
I’d worked under his direction for less than a year before Anthony Washburn had taken over, turning the cities once considered havens into prisons.
Even if the people already inside hadn’t realized until it had been too late that they held no freedoms, no matter the rebranding to Freedom Cities. By then, they’d been too exhausted to complain or fight, given a lifeline that almost everyone had taken.
Those who had fought the new regime had either been executed to make space for those considered loyalists or tossed into the worst areas of the Graveyard.
The bastard had tried to use and control the Savages, and there were hundreds who’d fallen under his spell, protecting the cities while the Freedom Hunters roamed the country.
However, to the great king’s misfortune, more Savages were turning against him. That’s how he would be eliminated and the people freed.
Or so I hoped.
Why had I started to believe for whatever insane reason that my success was dependent on having Star with me? I didn’t like what I’d walked into or the pressure I’d faced from both John and Peter. The damn crescent moons continued to weigh on my mind.
The entire story had yet to be told.
What did that matter now that we were under attack?
“You brought the Borgata with you,” she accused.
“No, princess. I assure you we were more than capable of losing anyone stupid enough to try and follow us.”
“Then how the hell did you find me?”
My opportunity to gloat. “You should realize that when you steal specialized equipment, there might be a tracking device installed.”
The way she ground her teeth hurt my own. “Damn it.” Whether from exhaustion, anxiety, or anger, she rubbed her eyes.
“Can the hatch be breached?” I asked, coming closer to her.
While she shook her head, I could tell by her hesitation the event had never been tested. “I don’t think so, but the secondary alarm has never gone off.” She yanked open a drawer, grabbing various holsters for her weapons, including the shoulder straps holding the sword’s sheath.
Watching her fueled my darkest fantasies, a warrior woman preparing to defend her people.
Knives were driven into pockets on her cargo pants, two pistols slipped in two different holsters of their own. And a handful of her throwing stars that she was so damn proficient in using.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she snorted. “These belong to me.”
“Don’t worry, princess. I prefer my own. Do you have a communications or security room? Watchdogs to keep you safe?”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice quavering for the first time since I’d known her. But her glare remained. “There are always people on watch. That’s what building a community is about. Everyone pitches in.”
“Where are our weapons?” The constant beeping of the alarm, the sweep of pulsing lights would soon become an irritant.
Additional memories surfaced including the night my father was taken from me.
A ragged pain pinched deep within my chest, my reaction of placing my hand over my heart involuntary. But one she noticed.
“Locked away. I need to deal with this. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She started to walk away from me, but I stopped her, grabbing her arm just as someone pounded on the door.
“You need my men to help you with this. From what I’ve seen, you don’t have highly trained soldiers, only men promising to help. True?”
She didn’t look me in the eye, already as agitated as I’d become. With a hard jerk of her arm, she backed away, rubbing her skin as if I’d bruised her. “What does it matter? In this fucked-up world we do what’s necessary to remain alive.”
“Commander. We have a breach.” The man’s voice was close to becoming frantic.
When she placed her hand on the door handle, I crowded her space until the same heightened flicker of electricity shifted from one to the other. “We are your community’s only chance at survival. Allow me to help.”
Her chest rose and fell, the tense cords in her neck giving away her utter fear. “Fine. But you will do as I say. We will protect these people. My people.”
“Absolutely.”
She’d no sooner thrown open the door than she raced past the group of three men, storming down the corridor. “How many? What are their weapons?”
“At least twelve, maybe more. Powerful enough the indicators are off the charts.” One of the three continuously scanned my body as if fearful I would attack.
“Shit,” she hissed. “I want six guarding the hatch. Do not allow anyone in. Jack, take four and guide our villagers to the safe room. Do not terrify them.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Her shoulders tightened. Not from fear. When necessary, the woman was fearless. Her irritation was created by my appearance. I couldn’t deny I enjoyed the hell out of watching her work, her presence powerful even in how she controlled her need for passion.
“Who is on coms?” With her level of fury, her boots pounded on the concrete.
“Thomas.” As another corridor intersected, two of the men broke off, heading to handle their assigned tasks.
She jerked to a stop in front of another entrance bay, keeping her distance until the remaining soldier unlocked the door.
Once again, her hand was on the lever and she hesitated. “I care about these people, Rage. Very much. They are my family and have been for years.”
“Do you trust them?”
My question caught her off guard, the slow lift of her head in my direction an indication she was doing everything to maintain a sense of calm.
Not for me but for the other man watching every move she made.
I knew the expression on his face all too well.
Even when basic survival meant working together, men believed themselves to be the tougher, more capable sex.
Star was determined to prove otherwise.
“Implicitly.” She threw open the door, remaining in the doorway and gesturing for me to walk inside.
“Where are my men?”
The obvious demand brought a coy look to her eyes. “Be careful, Rage. You are a guest.” She turned to the other man. “Have our guest’s traveling companions brought here immediately. But watch them. They are extremely dangerous.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mark kept his gaze locked on me while he backed away. His lack of immediate respect irritated even me.
“Do it,” she snapped, tossing her head to the side and toward him.
Fortunately for him, he scuttled away, leaving the two of us alone while the alarm echoed in my ears.