In the latest Victoria Emerson thriller from acclaimed New York Times and USA Today bestselling author John Gilstrap, one woman must lead—and protect—a community of survivors determined to rebuild all they have lost in the wake of a global conflict that has ravaged America … One-time congressional representative Victoria Emerson has received a request from the deposed president of the United States—come to the bunker at Hilltop Manor, where the remnants of the U.S. government have been imprisoned. A ruthless band has seized power, leaving civilians to die of starvation and untreated injuries. The self-appointed leader, Roger Parsons, plans to punish the former rulers for thrusting the country into Hell Day, the devastating war that changed the world in just a few hours. Victoria is reluctant to leave Ortho, the West Virginia town she has developed and defended. But as a born leader, she feels the call of duty. Forging her way through a landscape terrorized by local warlords and desperate scavengers, she arrives at Hilltop Manor to find a powder keg of battling factions. The lofty ideals on which the Republic was founded and the values that once held society together have devolved into anarchy. Calling on her deepest personal resources and her unwavering convictions, Victoria must somehow return the rule of law to a society where many of the old rules and laws don’t matter anymore.
Release date:
February 21, 2023
Publisher:
Kensington Books
Print pages:
320
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VICTORIA EMERSON HOPED THAT HER SURPRISE DIDN’T SHOW AS Althea Mountbank entered Maggie’s Place and approached. “This a good time?” Althea asked.
Victoria rose from her chair and the square table that served as her desk in what used to be the dining room of Maggie’s Place, a tavern that had been converted to an ersatz town hall in the aftermath of the eight-hour nuclear war that changed everything.
“Now is fine,” Victoria said. From the name alone, she had not been expecting someone quite so young and attractive. “Please, have a seat.”
Althea chose to sit at Victoria’s nine o’clock, rather than taking the seat that would have placed her back to the door. Victoria noted it, but from the young lady’s demeanor, she was not concerned.
“Mr. Barnett told me to come in and talk to you.”
“I know,” Victoria said. “Ben told me to expect you.”
“Are you, like, the mayor or something?” Althea asked.
“Not the mayor, no. Nobody elected me to anything, but somehow, every time the music stops, I’m the only one willing to take the chair.” Victoria shifted in her seat and crossed her legs. “Tell me something about yourself.”
Althea started to lean back into her chair but abandoned the effort halfway. She looked nervous, and Victoria wanted to know why. “What would you like to know?”
“Anything,” Victoria said. “As we try to rebuild something that will look something like a real society, and more people flood into Ortho, I think it’s important that we all get to know each other. We don’t have to become besties, but there’s a lot of fear and loneliness out there. Start with where you’re from and what you did before the war.”
Althea cleared her throat and shifted again. “I’m from up near Appleton,” she said. “I was a music teacher. Which is why I’m here.”
“Did you come to Ortho alone? Do you have family?”
Althea cast her eyes down. “No children. My husband was killed in the days after the war.”
“May I ask what happened to him?”
“It was the gangs,” Althea said. “In the weeks right after the war, during the panic, it seemed that everybody was shooting everybody else.”
Victoria waited for more.
Althea grew uncomfortable. “That’s it.”
“Tell me the circumstances surrounding your husband’s death.”
“Circumstances?”
Victoria hiked her shoulders and held out her hands. “How did it happen? Was he trying to defend you? The house?”
Althea’s gaze shifted to the floor.
Victoria pressed harder. “Or was he maybe threatening someone else who defended themselves?”
“We were hungry,” Althea said.
“Everybody was hungry,” Victoria said. “Did he kill?”
Althea’s head snapped up and her eyes were hot. “What difference does that make? He’s dead himself now.”
“Where were you when he was killed? Were you with him?”
Althea lost some of her attitude. “I tried to stop him.”
“What was your husband’s name?” Victoria asked.
“Jamie. He was a good man, I swear he was.”
“How many people did Jamie kill?”
Althea shook her head aggressively. “No one. I swear.”
“Okay, then how many people did he threaten?”
The eye contact disconnected again. “He was just trying to provide for his family.”
“By stealing from other families.” Victoria took a deep, noisy breath. “Look at me, Althea.”
The young teacher rocked her gaze up to meet Victoria’s.
“We can’t allow that.” Victoria kept her tone even. “You need to understand that here in Ortho, we expect people to earn what they have.”
“That’s what I want to do.”
“Here in Ortho,” Victoria continued, as if she hadn’t been interrupted, “we punish thieves severely. You can tell a thief from the rest of the community by the T that’s been carved in their foreheads. Men, women, children, it doesn’t matter. You need to understand that.”
“But I didn’t steal anything,” Althea said.
“I don’t care about the past, Althea. But I do care about the future. I’m sure you noticed the burned structures down the street in Shanty Town?”
Althea nodded.
“Do you know who set those fires?”
“No.”
“They came from up your way. From Appleton. They attacked Ortho.” Victoria leaned into the table and made sure she had Althea’s full attention when she said, “Every one of those attackers are dead. Those who survived the battle were tried and executed.”
“But I’ve heard people call this place Eden,” Althea said. She seemed genuinely confused.
“Perhaps it’s because we still believe injustice here,” Victoria explained. “Ben Barnett gave you your first week’s rations and supplies, right?”
Althea bobbed her head. She seemed grateful to be talking about something else. “And he told me about the currency system here.” In Ortho, ammunition doubled as money. It had inherent value—unlike the green pieces of paper that meant so much before Hell Day. “Thing is, I don’t have a gun.”
“Nor will you before you prove yourself to be trustworthy. What committee did you choose to participate in?”
“Education,” Althea said. “That’s why we’re talking, as I understand it.”
“That’s one of the reasons,” Victoria confirmed. “You want to teach music lessons as a means to support yourself.”
“Exactly. Is that a problem?”
“Not as far as I’m concerned,” Victoria said. “But I think you might want to think it through. Winter is marching straight at us. You’ll have a tent for shelter until your cabin is built—and it will only be built with you as one of the construction workers. You’ve got provisions for a week. Maybe two if you don’t mind being hungry, but after that, you’re on your own.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting that in the short term, you might want to focus on the committees that the town will pay you to be a part of. Those include the construction committee and the security committee, but without a firearm, the security slot doesn’t do much for you. Or for Ortho.”
“I don’t know anything about construction,” Althea said.
“Most newcomers don’t,” Victoria said with a smile.
Althea seemed more confused than ever.
“You’re going to have to get your hands dirty, Althea. You’re going to have to perform physical labor before you can fulfill your entrepreneurial urges.”
The young teacher wanted to say something, but it seemed that the words wouldn’t come.
Victoria stood, ending the meeting. “Of course, you can always choose to move on down the road, leaving those provisions here, of course.”
The front door opened, revealing the familiar silhouette of Joe McCrea, the Army major who had accompanied every second of Victoria’s Hell Day nightmare. “Excuse me, Vicky,” he said. “There’s something you’ve got to attend to here.” An M4 rifle hung from its sling across his chest. Pretty much everyone who was old enough to carry a weapon did so as a form of citizen militia—which had proven its worth more than once.
“We’re finished here,” Victoria said. She offered a handshake. “Welcome to Ortho.”
Althea hesitated, then accepted the gesture.
“Remember everything we talked about,” Victoria said. “On reflection in the coming hours and days, if there’s any element of what you discussed with me that you wish to backtrack on or change, I invite you to do so.” She tightened her grip just enough to make sure the young teacher was listening. “Just do it before I hear from others that you lied to me.”
A bit of color drained from Althea’s cheeks. “I—I didn’t lie.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” Victoria let go of her hand and watched as she pressed past McCrea to walk back outside.
“What the hell was that?” McCrea asked.
“I’m seventy percent sure that she was part of the gangs in Appleton,” Victoria said.
“And?”
“And I told her that the past was the past. That last part was a not-so-subtle warning that witnesses to her past are likely here.” Victoria walked toward the door. “What’s so urgent outside?”
“Stay where you are,” McCrea said. “I’ll bring him in.”
Victoria didn’t like these kinds of buildups to a surprise.
Thirty seconds later, McCrea returned with an emaciated young man in a tattered uniform that looked like a product from a war long in the past. “Vicky,” McCrea said, “allow me to introduce you to Jerry Cameron.”
Victoria wondered if this guy was going to live till morning. He looked awful. She offered her hand. “Pleased to meet you. And please sit down.” She looked to McCrea. “Get him something to eat, please.”
“On it already,” McCrea said. “I asked Joey Abbott to get him some food and drink.”
“I don’t have time for a meal, ma’am,” Cameron said. “You’re Mrs. Emerson, right?”
“Victoria. Yes. Now sit. We’re not talking until your butt is in a chair.”
Cameron seemed annoyed, but he sat in the chair that Althea Mountbank had just vacated. “Congresswoman Victoria Emerson?”
“Not anymore. It’s just Victoria now.” She and McCrea both took chairs at the same table. “Vicky, if you prefer.”
“Yes, ma’am, but you were—”
“Yes, what is this about?” Victoria had a bad feeling. A glance at McCrea’s body language didn’t make her feel any better.
“Okay, ma’am,” the young man said. “Well, here’s the thing.” Then he seemed to get lost inside his head.
“Sometimes, it’s easier if you just spit out the words,” Victoria said with a soft smile.
“Yes, ma’am. As your friend said, my name is Jerry Cameron. I used to work at the Annex. A bunker that was used to house—”
Victoria’s gut tumbled. “I’m familiar with the Annex, Jerry. The Government Relocation Center.” Located about forty miles east of Ortho, the Annex was an elaborate bunker complex built into the bedrock beneath the lavish vacation resort that called itself Hilltop Manor. It was to that very facility that Army Major Joseph McCrea and First Sergeant Paul Copley had been escorting Victoria on the night before Hell Day. She refused to enter, however, when the managers of the place—Cameron’s coworkers, apparently—wouldn’t allow her children to accompany her.
“Why do you look like you’re going to have a heart attack?” Victoria asked. Even as the words left her throat, she knew she didn’t want to hear the answer.
“Well, ma’am, here’s the thing. The president of the United States and the leadership of the House and Senate have all been arrested and charged with treason. The president has asked me to find you and ask if you would preside over the trial.”
The words consumed the oxygen out of the air. She understood their meaning, but the implications seemed impossible.
“Wait,” she said. “What?”
“There was an uprising around the Annex. Around the whole hotel complex. A lot of people were killed.”
Victoria asked, “So, were you with the security firm that oversaw the Annex?”
“Yes, ma’am. Solara. Most of us didn’t make it. The civilians up there are furious that the government took care of itself but ignored the people. They’re looking for blood.”
Victoria tried to make the pieces fit in her head. “You said that the president was in custody?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re lying,” she said. “The president is at a different facility. She would not be at the Annex.”
Cameron looked hurt. “I’m not lying, ma’am.” Then his face showed an a-ha moment. “Oh, I get it. I see the confusion. President Blanton and Vice President Jenkins were both killed in the attacks. The office slipped to the Speaker of the House.”
“Penn Glendale?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cameron shrugged out of his backpack and reached into a side pocket. He extracted an envelope and handed it to Victoria. “The president asked me to give this to you. He asked for you personally.”
McCrea spoke up. “Are you telling us that the government of the United States has been overthrown?”
The question seemed to startle the young man. “I guess so, yes. Roger Parsons has charged Mr. Glendale with treason. Like I said, they’ve charged everybody with treason.”
“And Parsons is the leader of the uprising?” Victoria asked.
“Right.”
“I’m confused,” McCrea said. “You said that the president sent you, yet this Parsons guy is in charge?”
“Yes, sir. The president himself asked me. I don’t think Parsons knows that he did it, though.”
McCrea asked, “If the president is under arrest, how did he contact you? And how is he being held?”
“There are jail cells inside the Annex,” Cameron explained. “The designers of the place anticipated people going a little stir crazy being cooped up for months. To my eye, some of them did, but Mr. Johnson never did anything about it. He was my boss before the uprising. He was also one of the first ones killed.”
Victoria leaned into the conversation. “If Penn Glendale is in a jail cell, and you’re not, how did he communicate with you?”
Cameron’s shoulders sagged as he organized his thoughts. “It’s like this,” he said. “Parsons’ gang is just that. They’re pushy assholes who somehow found each other after the attacks and they bullied people into submission. He only feeds his cronies, and he leaves everyone else to fend for themselves.”
“Are you avoiding my question?” McCrea pressed.
Anger flashed in Cameron’s eyes. “I don’t have a lot of time for bullshit questions,” he said. “I’m not avoiding anything. I’m setting the scene for you. Arresting the president of the United States scares the shit out of people. You know what I mean? That’s not something you can take back and say, ah, I was just kidding. Even some of the guards know that the ice is really thin for them. The president was able to talk one of them into letting me in to visit.”
“How long have you been on the road?” Victoria asked. She wanted to cool the commentary down a little.
“Three days, ma’am. It was a long ride. A tough ride, too. It’s brutal out there.”
“Brutal how?” McCrea asked.
“Gangs. Warlords, really. Lots of suffering. Lots of awfulness. I think a lot of them work for Parsons somehow.”
“How close to here?” Victoria asked. “To Ortho?”
“The awfulness? Quite a ways. Five, maybe seven miles.”
“What are these gangs doing?” Victoria asked. “Are they organized? Are they on the march?”
Cameron considered the question. “Let’s say sort of organized. There’s one semi-permanent camp that I came through that’s only a day outside Hilltop Manor. I think that one’s run by a Parsons minion. I was never in Parsons’ inner sanctum, so I don’t know anything for sure, but my guess is that they’re afraid of the people who come to Hilltop Manor.”
“Afraid of what?” Victoria asked.
“The same thing as Tsar Nicholas should have been afraid of. People are not happy. But there are other gangs, too. And ... I guess you’d call them refugees. Some are just wandering, like they’re in a daze. A lot of them become victims of the ones who have found each other and formed up gangs. I saw a lot of bodies along the road. Pretty much all of them had been stripped naked.”
“Had they been murdered?” Victoria asked.
“Clearly, some of them had,” Cameron said. “Others, I don’t know. I didn’t stop and look all that closely. I tried to get through them as fast as I could. I needed to get to you. And I need to get you back to Hilltop.”
“Did you walk all the way from Hilltop?” McCrea asked.
“No, sir, I have a horse. He’s grazing in the field across the street.”
The door to Maggie’s opened and Joey Abbott stepped in from the chill, balancing a plate of food in his right hand. The ever-present AR15 was slung behind his back. “Here’s some scrambled eggs and venison sausage,” he said as he walked in. He handed the plate to Cameron. “You look like you could use this.” The proprietor of Joey’s Pawn Shop in the years before Hell Day, Joey had stepped up to be one of the town’s leaders.
As Cameron dug into the food, McCrea asked, “Do you have any reason to believe that there’ll actually be a trial, or are they just going to hang the president from a tree?”
“I don’t know if there’ll be a trial or not,” Cameron said. “All I know is that everybody was arrested, and the president asked me to come and get you.”
“How does he even know I’m here?”
“I don’t have an answer for that, ma’am,” Cameron said. “It’s probably because everyone knows you’re here.”
Victoria looked to McCrea for clarity but got a shrug instead.
“A lot of the people I passed on the way here from Hilltop said they were on their way to Eden,” Cameron said.
“That’s here?” Victoria asked.
“Yes, ma’am. Turns out the rumor mill survived Armageddon.”
It was too much. Victoria stood to end the meeting, though prepared to leave the room so Cameron could continue eating. “Thank you, Mr. Cameron,” Victoria said. “I’ll have an answer for you in the next day or two.”
Cameron stood, too. “Um, ma’am? We don’t have a day or two. Roger Parsons is a scary dude. He’s champing at the bit to hang the lot of them.”
“I’ll give you my decision in a day or two,” Victoria repeated. “Take your time in here. Finish your meal. Do you need a place to shelter for the night?”
“No, ma’am. With you or without you, I need to get back to Hilltop.”
“Why?” McCrea asked.
Cameron glared. “You were an Army officer, right?”
“Major,” McCrea said.
“If you’d left a bunch of your comrades in danger, wouldn’t you want to get back to them?”
McCrea knitted his brow, looked at Victoria, and then patted the young man’s shoulder. “Yes, I would,” he said. “But do you and me both the favor of resting for the rest of the day and we’ll find shelter for you. Start fresh tomorrow. If we end up going, we’ll want you along. Any extra hands we can get.”
“Sorry, Major, but I can’t do that.” Cameron wiped his mouth and stood. “Thanks for the grub.” He stuffed what remained on his plate into the towel that served as his napkin and shoved it all into a patch pocket on his trousers. “I hope you can make it, ma’am,” he said. He looked to McCrea. “Major.”
And then he was gone.
“Gotta admire his loyalty,” Victoria said.
“Or suspect that he’s setting a trap,” McCrea countered. “You know, draw you out so that this Parsons guy can take you out, too.”
“Why would he do that? What have I done?”
“Nothing makes petty men more nervous than a successful woman,” Joey said.
Victoria rolled her eyes. “I thought we were past virtue signaling.”
“It’s not about virtue,” McCrea said. “It’s about power. Those who want it are always angry at those who have it. You need to be careful.”
“Also,” Joey added, “you were a member of the House. Wouldn’t that put you on the extended hit list?”
Victoria sighed and sat back down in her chair. “Clearly, we need to discuss this. Joey, could you find George Simmons and ask him to join us?”
“What about your boys?” McCrea asked.
“Yeah, them, too.”
WITHIN FIFTEEN MINUTES, VICTORIA’S FAMILY HAD ALL GATHERED in the main room of Maggie’s Place. Adam was the oldest at eighteen, and his girlfriend, Emma, was pregnant, though not yet showing. At sixteen, Caleb had grown two inches in the past two months. He spent his days helping Doc Rory Stevenson, working on patients and learning cowboy medicine as a trade. Luke would turn fifteen soon, and his work in Lavinia Sloan’s blacksmith shop had broadened his shoulders and blackened his hands without darkening his outlook. Just like his father had been, Luke was an unapologetic optimist in all things. Thanks to a lifetime of training, all her boys were expert marksmen.
First Sergeant Paul Copley was there, too, along with George Simmons and Joey Abbott. George, like Joey, was a lifelong resident of Ortho and its environs, and through them, Victoria avoided some of the social landmines that were so common in small towns. They knew the personalities, and friendships. More importantly, they knew the lifelong enmities that existed between some.
The letter was real. There was no forging the elaborate scrawl that was Penn Glendale’s handwriting. Written on the reverse side of the stationery for the House of Representatives, on which the logo on the front had been marked out with heavy black ink, the letter explained much of what young Mr. Cameron had told her. Penn’s was a personal plea for assistance.
As she read the letter aloud, her voice choked at the concluding paragraphs.
Victoria folded the letter and wiped her eyes with her palms.
“So, it’s all gone,” Joey Abbott said, his voice barely a whisper. “The government is gone.”
“How the hell did everything go so wrong?” George Simmons wondered aloud.
“The government is not gone,” Victoria said. Under the circumstances, the strength of her voice surprised her. “We are the government. The people are the government. All that’s gone are the trappings of power.”
“And electricity,” Luke said, drawing a laugh.
“Tell me you’re not thinking about doing this,” McCrea said. “The letter was very moving, but if we believe Cameron—and I have no reason not to—President . . . What’s his name?”
“Penn Glendale,” Victoria reminded him. “He was—”
“Speaker of the House, yeah. I remember now. If we’re to believe Cameron, this new guy—Parsons, right?”
He got nods from Victoria and Joey.
“Parsons doesn’t even know about the note.”
Victoria stopped him. “That’s not what he said. He said he wasn’t sure whether or not Parsons was aware.”
“We have to make some assumptions,” Joey said. “Why would he approve that?”
“I don’t know,” Victoria admitted. “But it’s important to be precise when talking about what we know versus what we think.”
“Still,” McCrea said, “Penn Glendale is the prisoner, not the warden. There’s not a chance in hell that they haven’t already done to him whatever they’re going to do.”
“So, we do nothing?” Adam asked. “Is that what you’re suggesting?”
“We’re talking about the overthrow of the United States,” George said.
“Think about it, Vicky,” McCrea pushed. “Why would they keep him alive?”
For Victoria, the answer seemed obvious. “Because killing him would be a stupid thing to do. Precisely because it would be the overthrow of the government. It would be a putsch. That’s a tough line to walk back from.”
First Sergeant Copley said, “They arrested them for treason, right? Isn’t that what you said? Well, that’s a capital offense. They wouldn’t have filed the charges that way if they weren’t prepared to execute the guy.”
“Maybe they didn’t know that,” Adam said. “Maybe it was just the first thing they thought of to charge him with.”
“Dangerous assumption,” McCrea said. “The kind that can get your mom killed.”
Victoria said, “I think Adam might be right. The events that Mr. Cameron described seemed more like a temper tantrum than a serious effort at justice.”
“You think that’s better?” McCrea asked. “A tantrum is the very definition of irrational action. If they’re pissed enough, what’s to stop them? And if they’re pissed enough to execute him, what are you going to be walking into?”
“People act in their own best interest,” Victoria said. It had long been a governing principle of her life. “Executing the president outright makes no sense. Murdering a man for spite? The president of the United States, no less?”
“Very little of what’s happened in the past few months makes any damn sense at all,” George said.
Joey agreed. “Who’s to say they haven’t already tried him? Guilty or innocent, alive or dead, this whole thing is probably over.”
“Cameron said he’d been on the road three days to get here,” George said. “That’s plen. . .
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