Four unmarked survivors. One totalitarian government. A fight to keep their humanity intact.
100 years into the future, the E-91 virus has thrust the world into chaos.
For Rachel Wilson, survival hasn't come easy. For the last fifteen years, she's...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
She walked until she reached the edge of the ship and turned to lean against a cool, metal railing.
Behind her, poles stretched into the night sky—one of them held the United States flag, flapping gently in the breeze, its red, white, and blue colors made to look dull under the moonlight while a string of music floated down to her from the ballroom.
She turned to face the ocean where a thin mist touched her cheeks. The air smelled sweet, not like mountain air, different, but still somehow just as fresh. Black waves churned below, slapping the hull of the ship gently.
Yet all this calm disturbed her.
Any time Rachel stopped to think, all she could see was the poacher she'd killed back in the capital. That was the thing about trauma--it would hit you unexpectedly, like a punch to the gut.
She'd put up walls around her guilt and grief, walls she knew she couldn't contain forever but hoped would last longer than this. But now the foundation shook and wobbled with each churn of the sea.
She would welcome a fight every day of her life if it meant it would keep her busy enough to forget. Every silent moment was loud, filled with the sound the bullet made as it left her gun, followed by the wet sound of blood, and the thud of a body.
Rachel didn't think there was anything worse than watching life slowly leave a person's eyes. She still remembered their color...blue, like a morning sky.
Rachel pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes and sighed. It was probably time to go back inside--not to the party but to the quiet solitude of her room.
But Hector...she had to find him and know if his sisters had been found. If they hadn't...he would need someone.
Just as she had made up her mind to leave she heard footsteps behind her.
"I knew I'd find you here," Hector said, coming to stand next to her, the warmth of his body a comfort. He leaned against the railing, black hair tossing in the wind, hands clasped in from of him.
"How did you know?" she asked.
"I think...I think nature brings you peace," He replied. Rachel studied him. She knew he was observant but each time he picked up on one of her quirks, it made warmth spread across her chest.
Hector stood close enough that she could see a small scar stretching from his ear, almost down to his chin but somehow it didn't make him look bad. She wondered which fight, which battle had given him this scar, and had to fight the physical urge to touch it.
"It helps me focus. Everywhere I look I see how wretched humans are but not this," She gestured out toward the ocean. "Nature is still, for the most part, untouched by our evil. That's why I like it."
"I see," He replied. He stretched out a hand to her which she took. He pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her from behind, and rested his chin on the top of her head.
