Copyright © C.A. Rudolph 2020. All rights reserved.
Cover Art by Deranged Doctor Design
Editing by Sabrina Jean
Proofread by Pauline Nolet
On the cover: Darja Filipovic of Deranged Doctor Design
Kindle edition 092020
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Also by C.A. Rudolph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
The Story Continues
About the Author
ALSO BY C.A. RUDOLPH
THE GUN PLAY SERIES
UNTIL NOTHING REMAINS
EVERYTHING I DIE FOR
THE WHAT’S LEFT OF MY WORLD SERIES
WHAT’S LEFT OF MY WORLD
THIS WE WILL DEFEND
WE WON’T GO QUIETLY
DIVIDED WE STAND
WORLDS APART
INDIVISIBLE
THE HEART OF WAR
RITE OF REPRISAL (coming soon!)
THE WILL TO SURVIVE: A CHARITY ANTHOLOGY FOR HURRICANE RELIEF
THE WORST CASE SCENARIO (short)
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Book 2: This We Will Defend - Free
Book 3: We Won’t Go Quietly - Free
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For the fearless.
“Necessity is the plea for every infringement of human freedom. It is the argument of tyrants; it is the creed of slaves.”
William Pitt the Younger
Chapter 1
A massacre lay before them. A contorted mangle of devastation and debris comprised of man and machine, now all but indistinguishable, lay scattered about in an uneven, adverse pattern. Smoke rose and curled hastily upward in eerie strands, flouting gravity and wind currents that wisped over the snowy field stained crimson throughout the fallen.
The driver released the accelerator and braked hard, bringing the SUV to a sliding stop just beyond a barbed-wire fence and a corroded steel gate appearing to have been struck by something large and unyielding. It hung by thin cords of sheared metal, nearly free of its moorings. His mouth agape, he shifted into park with a trembling hand and leaned over the steering wheel. He gawked at the scene before him in sheer astonishment.
The wintry morning air had a bite to it, though it wasn’t nearly as frigid as the look Beatrice Carter had sewn on her face. Her pupils darted from one edge of the vista to the other through squinted eyelids. She scowled while reaching for the door handle.
“Ma’am.” The driver grasped her forearm. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I feel I must advise against departure at this time.”
Beatrice tensed and tightened her lips. “Young man, feel however you must and advise all you like, but unfasten your hand from my arm this instant—before you lose it.”
“Eh, I’m sorry…I was only…I didn’t mean to—”
“Shh, it’s all right. Hush now, no harm done.” Beatrice pushed open her door and slid a leg out, her boot submerging into the snow.
“Ma’am, are you sure you wouldn’t rather wait?” the driver asked, reaching for a radio handset mounted to the dash. “The threat could still be extant—whoever…or whatever did this could still be close by. They might even be watching us.”
Beatrice pouted. “Oh, pshaw!”
“Ma’am, please, I beg you. We don’t know what happened here. Can we at least stand fast until I call this in? Or better yet, until backup arrives?”
The slender, buxom blonde ignored his plea and made a full exit. “I know precisely what happened here…and trust me when I say this, the guilty parties are long gone.” She bristled as the cold assaulted her cheeks, and her voice fell to a whisper. “No way you’d stick around long after gettin’ away with something like this, Connie…now would you?”
Slamming the door shut, Beatrice tightened her scarf and zipped her parka to the collar. She drew the hood over her head and gave the drawstrings a hard pull, then marched with purpose across the field.
Three DHS vehicles equal to the one in which she’d departed seconds ago were parked side by side just ahead and to her right, each displaying a rendering of irreparable damage. Hundreds of holes had been punched through their chassis, and swirls of steam and smoke escaped from the engine compartments under what remained of their hoods. The smells of molten metal, charred flesh, carbon and death overtook the air. Two disabled Cougar MRAPs showing similar damage sat nearby. Strewn about were the remains of a dozen former federal agents, all appearing to have been sawed to pieces by some ungodly means.
She continued in and studied the scene with a piercing stare. A full hour hadn’t passed since she’d spoken to her old friend. Following that dialogue, Beatrice had expected the day to continue on a more encouraging note, but somehow, someway, she’d been outfoxed. Men were dead. Vehicles were destroyed. And the perpetrators had gotten away and remained at large.
Moving past the decimated DHS motorcade, Beatrice followed a path of deep ruts which had dug beyond the snowpack several inches into the frozen ground beneath. From where the tracks originated in an area of disturbed snowmelt, she noticed piles of bullet brass left behind by a large-caliber weapon.
She took a knee in the snow, slipped a glove from her hand, and palmed one of the empty casings. “Lordy, lordy, now…who shot shorty?” she mused,
