Quake Aftershock

Book 3: Quake

by Jack Douglas

Genres: Thrillers

Synopsis

State Of Emergency In the third electrifying installment of Jack Douglas's six-part Quake, a series of aftershocks transform New York City from a high-risk disaster zone—into hell on earth . . . It happened so fast. The earth trembling, buildings falling, civilization collapsing in a matter of moments. But once survivors began to emerge from the rubble, U.S. Attorney Nick Dykstra and FBI agent Hector Mendoza thought the worst was over. They thought wrong. A new wave of aftershocks is shaking the city to its very core. Nightmarish scenes of destruction await them as they journey north to find their loved ones. Armed gangs roam amidst the devastation like rats, Penn Station explodes, and a series of tremors nearly bring down all of Times Square. But Nick has other things to worry about. An accused terrorist has escaped his grasp. His only daughter has been targeted for revenge. And a catastrophic leak at the Indian Point Nuclear Plant could expose them all to a fate worse than death. . . 15,000 Words

Release date: June 1, 2014

Publisher: Pinnacle Books

Print pages: 50

Sample

Nick Dykstra pedaled the Stradalli Fixxx slowly up the destroyed blacktop of Seventh Avenue. Having long ago befriended the bike messenger who usually delivered his last-minute motions and briefs to defense counsel around the city, he knew he was riding an $800 bike. But what truly disrupted his thoughts was trying to figure out the last time he’d ridden a bicycle on an actual street.

Sure, he’d ridden—if ridden was even the right word—stationary bikes at his twenty-four-hour local gym, but that didn’t count. And although Nick didn’t believe in having a car in the city, he’d never once ridden a bicycle to or from work; it was simply too far. He took subways and, when the circumstances absolutely called for it, taxis.

He hadn’t ridden a bicycle as a law student either, not that he recalled. But wait, hadn’t he ever ridden with Sara, either before or after they were married? She’d talked about riding bikes once in a while, said it was one of her favorite things about growing up in South Jersey: riding bikes along the boardwalk during the off-season, from Labor Day through Memorial Day. But Nick couldn’t recall them ever riding together, and that bothered him, because he knew it was something she’d asked him to do.

So many things with Sara had been left undone. They’d talked often about traveling to Tokyo, about taking a cruise to Alaska, about spending a Christmas in Paris. They’d spoken endlessly about writing a novel together; a novel having nothing at all to do with the law, but something more along the lines of The Lord of the Rings, a complete fantasy set in another world. They’d discussed how things would change in their relationship (at least the things that would change for the better) once their daughter, Lauren, went off to college. (And this was when Lauren was only a toddler.) They’d have more alone time together, be able to resume their movie nights, go out to dinner, drink cocktails, and make love until the sun came up.

Surprisingly, Nick hadn’t given much thought to what Sara would say about Lauren’s choice of colleges. Of course, they had no idea Lauren would be as brilliant a student as she was. Sure, they’d said she would grow up to be a genius—maybe cure cancer, invent the flying car, become the first female president of the United States—but they couldn’t have known their daughter would actually have her pick of Ivy League schools like Yale and Harvard and Stanford and Princeton.

Sara and I had always used the words “go away” to college, he thought, and wondered why this had never crossed his mind earlier. Maybe because he didn’t want it to. Maybe because then he’d have to admit that if Lauren’s mother were still alive, he’d be all for his daughter going off to Stanford, if that was where she wanted to go.

Nick steered around a body lying in the street and took a deep breath. He pictured Lauren on her tricycle during an upstate vacation. Pictured her with training wheels and later without. Always when they were away. For all he told Lauren about how safe she was in New York City, he’d never wanted her to go jogging or rollerblading or bike riding alone around Central Park. Always in the forefront of his mind was that Central Park Jogger case.

Christ, he thought, I’ve been holding her back. I’ve been clinging to her. She wants to go to Stanford and I’m pushing her to stay here in the city.

Of course, he was. Lauren was all he had. He’d told himself all these years since Sara’s death that that was how things had to be. That his wife was taken from him on September 11, 2001, so he’d dedicate himself wholly to his daughter and to his work, both of which were important after all. But did he really have to be alone? Or was he just scared?

Nick pedaled past the spot where there had been a small police substation, then pressed his brakes and brought the bike to a halt. In front of him stood Times Square.

Or what used to be Times Square.

“Jasper, where are you going?”

Jasper Howard had just reached his car in the staff parking lot when he heard the voice: male, booming, pissed-off. He’d heard the man bellow at his employees from time to time over the years, but never had much occasion to work with him. He knew he was the reactor operations manager.

Shit. W. . .