Cam stood outside the clinic and stared at the camp, trying to erase the haunting images from his brain—the woman he’d just left inside, but covered in mud and filth, chained to a pipe like an animal; the way she’d laid limp in his arms as he’d carried her mile after mile through the woods; and the bruises that still covered nearly every inch of her exposed skin. There was still no guarantee she’d pull through, but he liked to think she was a fighter, a hard charger—much like Rowan Callahan, the woman who had alerted them to her existence and the reason the rescue mission had been launched. Rowan was a feisty brunette who was keeping two of his former Force Recon teammates, Graham and Zach, on their toes because of her relentless determination to get home to her family. She was too reckless and stubborn to realize that even though she’d made it this far, the world outside the walls of Castle Creek Whitetail Ranch was nothing like it had been only seven days earlier. Although, Ro should’ve been aware considering the trek she’d made all the way from Chicago. Her journey—which was her own crazy-ass story—had been fairly uneventful until she’d heard a woman screaming and followed the sound to a camp of rednecks in the woods. That screaming woman had been Lia. Ro had almost ended up their next victim, but her sprint away from danger had sent her right into the fence line of the ranch. Cam shuddered to think what would’ve happened to Lia if Ro hadn’t demanded they save the pitiful woman she’d seen dragged on her knees through the dirt.
Firebombing the camp hadn’t been enough. He wanted every single one of them dead—but they’d only gotten two of them.
And the fact that they could firebomb a camp just showed how much the world had changed in the last week—because seven days earlier, he and the entire crew of former Jar Heads had been running a successful and exclusive deer hunting operation in rural Michigan. Six days ago, the entire world had gone dark in what they were assuming was a complete power grid failure. Due to Graham’s foresight and their general mistrust of the government after seeingwaythe fuck too much over the last decade of their military careers, Castle Creek Whitetail Ranch was also probably the most intense doomsday prepper compound in the entire state. They’d left nothing to chance. From impeccable defenses to stores of food, weapons, supplies, alternative sources of power and beyond—they had everything needed to carry on in the face of a complete collapse of modern society. If the TV showDoomsday Preppershad ever heard of them, they would’ve put the rest of those wannabes to shame.
Given that operational security was the first step of successful prepping, no one knew what they were hiding in the bunkers beneath these buildings. The walled compound was surrounded by hundreds of fenced acres and some of the finest whitetail that could be hunted in the Midwest. If the grid had gone down even a few days later, they would’ve had a camp full of early season hunters, but as it stood, the only residents of Castle Creek Whitetail Ranch were ten former Force Recon Marines, one wife, one five year old daughter, and now Rowan and Lia. They all thanked God that Jonah, the only married member of their crew, had had the brilliant luck of falling in love with, and marrying, a former Mennonite. Part of the reason they were set up to run so efficiently without a steady supply of electricity was Allison’s unique upbringing. So if their solar, wind, or microhydro power systems ever died, they’d still be fine, albeit a little less comfortable. As it stood, they were ready to ride out the apocalypse instyle.
“How’s she doing?” Travis asked.
Cam stared at his friend for a few moments before answering, “Only time will tell.”