All Is Silence - Deserted Lands #1

Sneak Preview of Book II

I've recently finished a re-edit of Book II STRAIGHT INTO DARKNESS. In honor of my 50th birthday and as I approach the end of writing Book III - No Man's Land, I am interested in giving you a special deal. STRAIGHT INTO DARKNESS is available this week only for only $0.99 [or local international equivalent] on almost all ebook sales outlets worldwide.

In addition, if you sign up for my newsletter at www.desertedlands.com you can get more FREE fiction.

PRELUDE

LIZZIESAT ONHER FIDGETING hands in the Provisional Utah Government Career Office,waiting with a dozen or more others. Nerves were getting to her. Oneofficial was already meeting with her father, Manuel Guerrero. As thereceptionist called more people, Lizzie realized they were taking theable-bodied adults first. That made sense—prioritize the mostimportant, most likely to help.

Aftera bit, she wandered over to the receptionist, a brunette a littleolder than herself, but dressed like an adult in a white blouse witha dark blue skirt and blazer. She smiled pleasantly at Lizzie, "MayI help you?"

"Howlong does this take?"

"Itdepends." The young woman clasped her hands and her eyes swept thewaiting room. "You ought to be called soon. Unless I decide totorture you." Her face betrayed no hint of humor, but her eyestwinkled.

"Ihope you don't," Lizzie said, trying not to let herself becheered up by the joke. Her father re-entered, nodded politely to theman who had taken him inside and hurried toward them.

Theman glanced at his clipboard and said a name. A young man across theroom stood up and hurried over.

Lizziewanted to say, 'Hey, I'm older. I should be next," but she alsowanted to find out what had happened to her father. "How'd it go,Dad?"

"Fine.I get to do planning work until I'm fully recovered." He made anugly face. "Organizing supplies and searches. I suggested I coulddesign victory gardens. He said he'd get back to me."

"Doesn'tsound too bad," Lizzie offered. "You're not cleaning toilets."

Helaughed. "Well, I'd rather deal with real shit than planning andorganization."

"Notme." Lizzie grinned. "I'd hate that, too, but not as much."

"LizzieGooden-Guerrero?" a female voice called from behind her.

"Coming,"Lizzie called over her shoulder. "Wait for me?"

"Ofcourse, I don't have to be to work until tomorrow," Dad said.

Lizziespun, hustling to the lady with the clipboard.

Thewoman, her gray-streaked hair pulled back in a low ponytail, staredover her reading glasses at Lizzie. "Come with me."

Lizziefollowed the woman who reminded her of someone; she twisted andmotioned Lizzie into her small cubicle.

Lizziesat. The hand written name tag said Ms. LaFevbre.

"LaFee Bray. Not Lafeeber or La Fever, please."

Lizzienodded, not trusting her smart-ass mouth. Would she get to be aCollector? Collector was one of those jobs the school counselor toldyou had not been invented yet. Zach and Duke were assigned thispost-pandemic job of tagging houses for bodies and scavenging forfood and resources. No women got to go outside the walls built fromsemi-trailers and panel trucks that had hauled stuff down from SaltLake City, but there were still some houses to be collected andinventoried inside the walls. The rule wasn't fair, but the councilsaid it was temporary.

Shesmoothed her jeans as if they were a skirt, rather than picking atthem with her flitting fingers, and smiled calmly at Ms. LaFevbre.

"Well.You're almost 18?"

"Yes,"Lizzie nodded trying to not be too eager. "In January."

"Yes."Ms. LaFevbre's eyes scanned down the chart. "And you'repregnant."

"That'swhat the doctor says," Lizzie made sure to sound jovial and notsarcastic.

"Married?"

"What?"

"Areyou, or were you, married?"

"No.What difference does that make?"

LaFevbre'seyes scrutinized Lizzie's clothes and then narrowed in on her face."I suppose it makes no difference now."

"Anyissues with reading? Glasses? Dyslexia?"

"No.Nothing. ADHD. Not currently medicated." Shutup, Lizzie.

LaFevbrepursed her lips and glared over her glasses. "You'll be inschool. Extra classes for childbirth and child rearing."

Lizzie'sheart sank. Classes. That was it. La Fever reminded Lizzie of herstern second grade teacher, Mrs. March. Just the name March made herwant to avoid school.

"I'mreally good at collecting. Back home in Bellingham, my friend and Isaved a baby and got him all situated." School was not a job;Lizzie had never believed that lie. Jess was working with animals,Nev as an administrative assistant and Rachael with kids in aday-care.

"Thetoddler," LaFevbre said brusquely. "Sebastian A. Jones. Perhapsyou'll learn how to raise him and he won't be taken from you."

Lizzie'sjaw dropped. Did she really just say that?

"Youwill report to the Career and Technical Services building."

"But..."

"Sinceyou are already pregnant, you may arrive late and miss the firstclass on procreation. Report to Room 212 at 8:05 a.m. tomorrow. Thatis all."

"But,I don't want to. I want a real job."

Oneeyebrow raised behind the glasses. "Do you wish to eat?"

"Yes,but-"

"Therules are clear, as is your job. No one else can do it for you. Haveyour baby. Then depending on how you do, you may be allowed to applyfor other work."

Lizziegritted her teeth and stood. "Thank you, madam," she said andleft, revving up for an explosion.

Bythe time she reached her father, it must have been fully visible onher face. Lizzie blew past him when she saw his hands motioning forher to calm down.

Thereceptionist called, "Miss? Are you all right?" as Lizzie slammedthe door.