Chapter 1
EVERTON, VERMONT
1:26 AM EST (EASTERN STANDARD TIME)
“COPY THAT,” EDWARD Powell said. He muted his mic and turned to Daniel Ash. “All squads in position, Captain.”
As Ash raised his binoculars and looked across the town, he tried to ignore the tightening in his chest that had been growing all night. If Curtis Wicks—Matt Hamilton’s former inside man at Project Eden—was right about the importance of Dream Sky, then this night could very well end with Project Eden being severely damaged.
Either that or with the Resistance’s own destruction.
The only signs of life in town were the Project Eden sentries, all still manning the same positions Ash had noted on his last check. He aimed the glasses toward the edge of the village where the entrance to Dream Sky was located. The solitary building—no more than a hut, really—sat quiet and alone in the middle of a
snow-covered field.
Ash glanced at Wicks and nodded at the pouch in the man’s hand. “You’re positive that’s going to work?”
“We’ll know soon enough.”
“Not the answer I was hoping for.”
“It’s the best I can give.”
Ash turned to Powell. “Tell them to move in.”
“Yes, sir.”
__________
OMEGA TWO STAMPED his boots, trying to fight off the cold seeping into his toes.
Having grown up in Georgia, he thought he’d lived through some pretty chilly winters, but those were summer days compared to what he’d experienced here. He wouldn’t have thought it possible but sometimes he could feel the cold in his bones. Especially on nights like this, when the sky was clear and the temperature had dropped into negative numbers.
“Omega team, report,” the voice of Omega One barked over the radio in Omega Two’s ear.
With a shiver, he responded, “Omega Two. West side, clear.”
“Omega Three, overview, clear.”
“Omega Four, northeast, clear.”
“Roger, Omega team,” Omega One said. “Southeast, clear. Next check, fifteen minutes.”
Omega Two stamped his feet once more, then stepped from the doorway where he’d taken temporary refuge, and resumed his patrol. Thankfully, most of the roads in Everton were regularly plowed by Project personnel. He couldn’t imagine having to also hike through snowdrifts to do his rounds.
An old church sat on the corner of the approaching intersection. The sturdy, white building with a tall steeple looked like it had watched over the town for hundreds of years. He’d gone inside once and found an unpretentious chapel with a simple cross hanging at the front, the kind of place his mother would have liked.
He considered going in again, this time to get out of the cold for a few minutes. What would it hurt? The streets were as deserted tonight as they’d been on every shift he’d worked. Yeah, a few minutes would be fine.
He headed toward a side door he knew was unlocked, but as he crossed the street, he heard a noise off to his right.
It hadn’t been loud. A thump. Like something falling into the snow about a block away.
He scanned the area through his night vision goggles but saw nothing more than parked cars and leafless trees and empty homes.
He took a breath and allowed himself to relax. A clump of snow falling from one of the houses’ eaves, he guessed.
He started walking again, but had taken only a couple steps before he heard a second thump in the same vicinity.
“Dammit,” he said under his breath.
He turned down the street, still thinking his theory was the most likely explanation for the noise, but his job was to check out things like this.
Paying particular attention to the rooflines, he looked for spots where snow had fallen away but didn’t spot any. He decided to give himself to the end of the next block. If he didn’t find the cause of the noise by then, he’d go back to the church to warm up.
Thump.
He stopped. The sound had come from the left, two or three houses ahead. As he started walking again, he heard another noise. Not a thump but a soft repeating sound of something moving across the snow.
A deer?
They’d been known to pass through town now and then. Or could it be a deadlier animal, like a wolf or a bear? As far as he knew, none of the other sentries had ever reported seeing either of those so he wasn’t sure they even lived in this part of the country. No sense in taking any chances, though.
Crouching behind the cars parked along the street, he moved forward, doing his best to minimize the sound of snow crunching under his boots. When he neared the point where the noise was loudest, he paused and peered through a gap between the cars. The noise seemed to be coming from around the side of the house he was looking at.
He crept forward until he reached the front edge of the driveway. A detached garage sat at the far end, with about a ten-foot gap between it and the house. None of the snow clinging to the eaves of either structure looked disturbed. He lowered his gaze to the driveway. There didn’t appear to be any depression on—
Check that.
There were depressions, a trail that started directly in front of the garage and disappeared into the gap between the garage and the house. Even from a distance, he could see the marks were too large to have been created by a deer or wolf.
He pulled back behind the car and turned on his radio mic. “Omega Two for Omega One. Possible survivors. Requesting backup.”
He waited for Omega One’s response, but none came.
“Omega One, this is Omega Two, do you copy?”
His radio remained silent.
“Omega Three? Omega Four? Do you copy?”
No answer.
“Omega team, this is Omega Two, do you read me?”
All quiet. He checked to see if the battery had died, but the power light was still on.
He looked back at the driveway.
Investigate the noise or find out what happened to the team? If he headed back now, whoever or whatever was making the noise would be long gone by the time he returned. And if he found out the communication problem was a simple fault in his radio, the higher-ups would not be happy he’d let a potential survivor get away.
“Shit,” he whispered.
He eyed the driveway again. The neighboring house had wide eaves so less snow had gathered under them than on the driveway. If he stuck to the house all the way back, he could at least get a partial view of where the footsteps had gone without creating too much of his own noise.
He clicked his mic on again. “Omega Two to Omega team. Anyone read me?”
As he’d expected, there was no answer.
He pulled his rifle off his shoulder, crossed the sidewalk to the sheltered area under the eaves, and worked his way down. He could now see the depressions didn’t stop mid-garage but continued on, passing through the open gateway into the backyard of the very house he was standing next to. What he couldn’t tell was whether they were coming or going.
He eased up to the back corner of the house and very slowly leaned forward just enough to peek into the backyard.
The green-tinted view of his goggles revealed two huddled shapes next to the house. Not deer or wolves or bears.
Survivors.
If they heard him before he had a change to get into a better position, he knew they’d make a run for it. Both Omega One and Omega Four had dealt with fleeing survivors, and from what they’d said, neither experience had been a particularly fun exercise, especially when the chase went off the plowed roads.
Omega Two looked back at the depressions and smiled when he realized they were pre-made tracks leading exactly to where he wanted to go.
Screw backup. This was going to be easy.
__________
GROUP FOUR CONSISTED of only one person—Chloe White. Ash hadn’t wanted her to go alone, but she argued, “I’ve got the farthest to travel. If someone’s with me, it’ll double the risk of discovery. That doesn’t make sense.”
Whether he actually saw it her way or not, she wasn’t sure, but he relented in the end.
So far, the hardest part had been getting into the town. While most of the road within the city appeared to have been plowed, only two that led in and out had been cleared. Both were in plain sight of the sniper stationed on the building near the town center, so they were not options.
Chloe had instead entered Everton through a portion of the forest that intertwined with some of the homes on the edge of town, slogging through a few patches of snow that reached as high as her waist. Once there, she was able to use the plowed roads and make it the rest of the way to her holding point without trouble.
After Powell radioed the order to begin, she moved deeper into the town.
As she passed the quaint homes and modest buildings, she couldn’t help but get the sense that Everton had been a friendly place before Implementation Day. A place where neighbors knew one another and life rolled along at a leisurely pace. A place she could almost see—
Out of nowhere, a wave of vertigo swept over her.
Reflexively, she grabbed at a nearby car but missed and fell to her knees, panting. It took nearly a minute for the sensation to subside enough for her to push herself back to her feet.
What was that? she wondered.
As far as she could remember, she’d never experienced a dizzy spell like that before. She would have thought she was coming down with something but she didn’t feel sick at all.
She looked around to make sure her little episode hadn’t drawn any attention, but when she caught sight of a steeple in the distance, she was overcome again. Fortunately, the feeling wasn’t quite as strong this time and she was able to remain on her feet.
Earlier that night, when she’d first seen the hut entrance to Dream Sky, she had a strong feeling she had been there before. A possibility that was not entirely out of the question, given that, with the exception of the last few years, she could remember nothing about her previous life.
When she looked at the steeple, though, the feeling wasn’t that she might have seen it before. She knew she had. Knew she’d been inside the building.
Flashes in her mind—laughter, a handshake, a forced smile.
What’s going on? Why would I have been here before?
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Pull yourself together, dammit. Whatever’s going on in your head needs to wait. You’ve got a job to do. People depending on you.
When the beat of her heart slowed to a more acceptable level, she opened her eyes again, and, careful not to take another look at the church, continued toward her target.
__________
ROBERT ADAMS PUT his arm around Estella, hoping to quell her shivers. While it was unbelievably cold, he knew the weather had very little to do with her chills. He wanted to say something reassuring to her, but they’d been instructed to stay silent until contact was made, so his touch would have to do what his words could not.
Damn, it was freezing, though. Sure, living on Isabella Island for so long had probably thinned his blood, but he doubted anyone in their right mind, no matter where they were from, would have felt differently if they were in his place.
The crunch was so soft that he thought he was hearing things, but by the way Estella tensed under his arm, he knew she had heard it, too.
Was this it? Was it time?
Staying as still as possible, he listened.
Another crunch, quieter than the first. Was the noise moving away or…?
A third, definitely closer.
A faint gasp escaped Estella’s lips.
He gently squeezed her again, hoping she couldn’t tell he was as scared as she was.
The next sound he heard was not a footstep but a voice.
__________
“STAY WHERE YOU are,” Omega Two barked.
The two survivors were huddled together behind the house, lying next to a pile of wood, their backs to him. The one on the left, the smaller of the two, was visibly shaking.
“Drop any weapons where I can see them,” he ordered.
The one on the right, a man, said, “We-we don’t have any.”
Patrols had yet to come across a survivor who wasn’t packing some kind of weapon. “I said, drop them.”
Slowly, the man pulled something from under his jacket and held it out to his side. A paring knife.
“Toss it in the snow,” Omega Two said.
The man flicked the knife away from him. It broke through the crusty surface of the snow and stopped a few inches in, its handle sticking into the air.
“What else do you have?” Omega Two asked.
“Nothing. I swear.”
Omega Two didn’t believe that for a second. He scanned the snow around them, looking for additional footprints, but only the two sets were visible. Still, he asked, “Are there more of you?”
“More? Um, no, just Estella and I.”
“All right. Put your hands behind your back and clasp them together.”
“Why?” The question came from the woman. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Put your hands behind your back and clasp them together.”
With obvious reluctance, they did as instructed.
If you so much as twitch, I will pull my trigger without warning and that will be that. Understood?” he asked.
“We’re cooperating,” the woman said. “There’s no need to shoot us.”
“Please tell me you understand.”
“We understand,” the man blurted out. “We won’t move.”
“Good. You’re first, then. Stand up, take three steps to your right, then kneel down and lean forward without moving your hands.”
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