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Frozen World (Book 2): Silo [Hope's Return]
Frozen World (Book 2): Silo [Hope's Return] Read online
Contents
Copyright
Series Reading Order
Foreword
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
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Books in the Frozen World Series
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About the Authors
SILO
Hope’s Return
Book 2
Frozen World Series
Published October 30, 2019
by Mission Critical Publishing, LLC
Written by: Jay J. Falconer
Co-Authored by: ML Banner
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or business establishments or organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 Mission Critical Publishing LLC
All Rights Reserved Worldwide. No part of this publication may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from Mission Critical Publishing LLC, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, publicity mentions, book/author recommendations, or announcements.
Suggested Reading Order for the Series
This series is a serial and part of the Frozen World collection of stories.
Each book is an immediate continuation of the earlier story and involves many characters, which are introduced and explored in each successive work. We strongly suggest reading the books in order, starting with the first book.
Here are the books in the series:
Silo: Summer’s End (Book 1)
Silo: Hope’s Return (Book 2)
Silo: Nomad’s Revenge (Book 3)
Thank you for reading,
Jay J. Falconer
M. L. Banner
Co-Founders
Mission Critical Publishing, LLC
Foreword
We are happy to see you here at Silo: Hope’s Return, Book 2 in the Frozen World Series. The story continues right where it left off at the end of Book 1, so fasten your seat belts folks. The ride gets intense.
Be sure to check out the Cool Free Silo Stuff section at the back of this book for some amazing insider Air Force information, plus a few other surprises.
Also, please join us in supporting our military veterans by joining the MCP Brigade. It’s free to sign up and 100% of all profits from the purchase of official MCP Brigade gear will be donated to veterans charities such as the Oscar Mike Foundation for Disabled Veterans.
Our fallen heroes need our assistance, so please join us and show your support at MCPBrigade.com.
ML Banner
CHAPTER 1
Summer Lane put her arm out in a jab, slamming it against the side of the transport to keep herself upright as the tires found another wicked rut in the road. She spun her shoulders before leaning toward the access window separating the driver’s seat and the bed of the truck. “Are you trying to hit every pothole?”
Krista laughed, never taking her eyes from the road. “You said to hurry.”
“Yeah, but let’s get there in one piece.”
“We will, trust me.”
Summer ran her hand across the mangled fur of the dog in her lap. “It’s okay, boy. Just hang in there. We’ll be home soon.”
“How’s he doing?” Krista asked, though her words sounded less than genuine.
“I think the bleeding has finally stopped. He’s weak, though.”
“He’ll be okay. He’s a tough mutt.”
“I hope you’re right. We’ve lost enough today,” Summer said.
Sergeant Barkley brought his head up from its limp position across her thigh. He let out a whimper, his eyes looking withdrawn and weary.
The animal’s pain was obvious. Waves of it, courtesy of Frost and the wound inflicted during the all-out melee at the Trading Post. The bloodstain that had soaked into the temporary wrap on his hindquarters was now a dark red color—a reminder of how fleeting life really is when your insides want to find their way to the outside.
At least the canine was still alive, unlike the other passenger in the back of the truck. They’d covered Professor Edison’s body before the trek back to the silo, but the rough nature of the road had vibrated the camo-colored tarp loose, leaving it draped across his body at an angle.
Summer couldn’t help but stare at the lifeless face she’d come to rely on ever since The Event.
Her eyes were drawn to his, wishing she was somewhere else. Somewhere where all the blood, death, and misery never existed. Somewhere where a dead mentor and friend hadn’t just put her in charge of the families hunkered down in the old missile silo known as Nirvana.
She’d held strong over the years to maintain her status as being a heartless little bitch, something she was sure she needed to continue now that she was in charge of the underground facility.
There are times when an undeserved reputation comes in handy. This was one of those times.
Summer wasn’t sure how she was going to pull off being the person in command, but she figured she could fake until she made it, or something along those lines.
In truth, she was good at pretending, but that had always been for her own benefit and only when it suited her. Now she had to become someone she wasn’t, for the greater good.
She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking, all the while thinking about the men, women and children who would now rely on her to make the right choices. So many hearts and minds, all of them focused on her every move.
The worst part of what was to come was dealing with Krista, her main adversary and the driver of the vehicle. The woman was sure to be riding her ass every step of the way.
In truth, the Security Chief was damn good at her job, commanding her men with the confidence of a dictator. She was also adept at being Summer’s chief nemesis, a role they both seemed to embrace.
Summer expected her new position as boss to be an even bumpier road than the one they were on at the moment, especially without Edison to run interference.
“Have you figured out what you’re going to tell the troops when we get back?” Summer asked Krista, wondering how the woman planned to explain all the deaths at the Trading Post.
Krista brought her eyes up to the rearview mirror. “That’s your job now.”
“What do you mean? They were your men.”
“True. But like the rest of us, they all work for you. Or worked, I sh
ould say. That’s part of the deal, Summer. It’s what Edison would’ve done—called a community meeting to relay the news and field questions.”
“Maybe this one time you could handle it? I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”
“Just tell them what happened. Step by step.”
“Everything?”
“Yes, but you can leave out some of the gory details,” Krista said, turning the steering wheel to the right, taking a sweeping curve in the road. “Keep in mind there will be kids listening. Young ears and all.”
“Great. Just what I need. More pressure to deal with. Saying the right thing has never been my strength. Usually it’s just the opposite.”
“You can do it. Just be yourself. I’ve got your back.”
“Really? You’d do that for me? I mean, with our past and all?”
“That’s my job. Just like it’s your job to take over for Edison, per his wishes.”
“I appreciate it, Krista. I know I’m not your favorite.”
“None of that matters now. We both have responsibilities. There are a lot of people counting on us and we’re going to need to work together.”
“Despite our differences.”
“Roger that. It’s the honorable thing to do.”
Before another beat passed, the truck’s momentum came to a skidding stop, the tires screeching atop the pavement.
Summer lost her balance and shot forward with the dog in her lap, her back crashing into the front wall of the truck. The impact sent a thump into her spine, taking her breath away.
She gasped a few times to recharge her lungs, then slid the dog off her lap before getting to her knees. She peered through the access window. “What’s going on?”
“Roadblock.”
Summer looked beyond Krista. She expected to see vehicles sitting at odd angles with armed bandits standing guard. But that’s not what her eyes reported.
There was a hooded man sitting on the pavement with a body lying in front of him. He had a thick beard and was waving his arms. One of the man’s ankles looked to be bandaged with a white cloth. Well, mostly white—there was a prominent bloodstain along the side.
To the man’s right was an old VW Bug. It was charred black and burnt down to the frame. There wasn’t much left of it—just another corpse along the road—a metallic corpse, long since abandoned.
Summer remembered seeing it on the way in, back when Edison was filling her in on what to expect during their monthly meet with Frost at the Trading Post.
She ran a quick visual assessment, studying the covered body lying from left to right, its back facing the truck. It was centered in the road, with equal spacing to the curbs on either side.
What caught her focus next was the long hair hanging out from under the blanket. The blonde locks were extra frizzy, as if they hadn’t been combed in weeks.
Summer’s hair was always out of control, but never as bad as what she saw twenty feet ahead. “Is that a girl?”
“Looks like it.”
“We should help them.”
Krista shook her head, taking one hand from the steering wheel. It dropped to her side. “Too big a risk.”
“What do you mean? Look at them. They can’t even walk.”
“You need to trust me, Summer. Without better intel and a security team to cover our six, we’ll be exposed. The right move is to continue onward. This could be a trap.”
“We can’t just leave them here. They’ll freeze to death.”
“We can send back help later,” Krista said, taking her foot off the brake. She turned the wheel as the truck idled forward, beginning a slow crawl around the victims.
The man on the ground stopped waving his arms. He let them drop to his sides, looking defeated.
“What are you doing?” Summer asked.
“My job.”
“I said no!”
“It’s not up to you. Not during a threat.”
“But Edison put me in charge. You have to do what I say.”
“Only if you’re giving me a direct order. Is that what you’re doing? Overriding my security decision with a direct order?”
“Yes. It’s an order. Stop the truck.”
Krista slammed on the brakes, then popped the latch on the seatbelt, freeing herself in one motion. She swung her head around. “Fine. But you stay here. Let me assess the situation.”
“No. I’m coming with you,” Summer replied, turning and crawling past the dog. The blond fur ball looked up at her, then started dragging its body to follow her to the tailgate.
“No. Stay,” Summer said, using a hand to stop Sergeant Barkley. “I’ll be right back, boy. I promise.”
Summer repositioned the tarp covering Edison on her way past his body, concealing his face once again. It was hard enough being this close to him, knowing he would never take another breath. But to see his eyes, empty and meaningless, was just too much to bear.
When she made it to the rear of the transport, she peeled the edge of the canvas tarp up. She swung her legs over the tailgate, then landed her feet on the rear bumper in a double plop. A few seconds later, she was on the ground and hustling around the side of the truck, where she met up with Krista at the driver’s door.
“I wish you’d listen to me. It’s for your own good,” Krista said, racking the slide on her semi-automatic handgun.
Summer ignored the comment. “Come on. Let’s get them back to Liz.”
Krista sighed, then jogged alongside Summer, the sights of the gun trained on the people ahead.
“Oh, thank God. I thought you were going to leave us here,” the bearded man said after they arrived.
“Not a chance,” Summer said. It was difficult to see his face inside the hoodie, but Summer thought he looked harmless. She turned to Krista and motioned to lower her gun.
Krista obliged, aiming the barrel at the ground.
Summer knelt down next to the girl. “What happened to her?”
“We were attacked.”
“Scabs?”
“No. Bandits.”
“I knew it,” Summer said, moving the mop of hair from the injured girl’s face. That was when reality hit. So did a powerful gasp to her chest.
The girl was missing a nose—frostbite.
“Hold it right there!” a man’s voice said, coming at them from the left.
Summer whipped her head around. A second man stepped out from behind the torched VW bug and stood a few feet away with a pistol aimed at her. He looked older than the one on the ground. And fatter. Plus, he wore a Fedora. It was angled slightly on his wrinkled, old man head.
“Hands up,” he said, nudging the muzzle of the weapon up and down.
“Damn it, Summer. I told you,” Krista said in a whisper, the gun in her hand still pointing at the ground.
“Do something,” Summer muttered, hoping Krista had some type of ninja move up her sleeve. Something a commando would use to save the day and get them out of this mess.
“Drop the gun, Missy,” the man said to Krista. “Don’t make me pull the trigger. Because I will if I have to.”
Krista went to bend down.
The man’s hands shook with subtle tremors, his index finger resting on the trigger. “Slowly. No sudden moves.”
Krista put the gun on the pavement, then straightened up, her hands out to the side. “Easy now. We’ve done as you asked. How about you take your finger off that trigger? If you engage the sear point—”
The gunman didn’t wait for Krista to finish. He pointed with his free hand. “Take a step back.”
The blonde girl with crazy hair sat up in a lurch from the bearded man’s lap, then got to her feet, snarling with a set of messed-up teeth, looking like a human version of a chainsaw blade.
“Jesus Christ,” Krista snapped, moving in front of Summer, taking a defensive stance.
Summer couldn’t stop the words from leaving her mouth. “Didn’t even know Scab Girls existed.”
“That makes two of u
s,” Krista said, scrunching her face. “Can smell her from here.”
Summer brought her attention to the gunman. “What do you want from us?”
“Your truck, for one.”
Scab Girl helped the bearded man off the ground and to his feet. He looked weak, standing with more weight on his good leg than his bad. He pulled the hoodie back to expose his entire head. That was when Summer noticed the tattoo of interlocking chains on his neck.
Krista must have seen it too. “They’re with Frost.”
“I thought they were our friends now?” Summer quipped. “You know, on account of he’s dead and all.”
“What did you say?” the gunman asked.
“About what?”
“About Frost.”
Summer didn’t hesitate with her response. “He’s dead. Scabs ate him. All crunchy-like.”
“When did this happen?”
Krista touched Summer’s forearm, then spoke in a commanding tone. “At the Trading Post. Hundreds of them. We barely escaped.”
“What about Fletcher and the others?”
Krista’s tone turned even deeper and more direct, as if she was giving a military report to a superior. “He survived. So did Dice. Can’t say the same for the rest. We lost most of ours as well. So did Heston.”
“It was biblical,” Summer added. “And not in a good way.”
“Biblical, huh?” the gunman mumbled, as if the phrase had some special meaning to him.
Krista took a short step forward, keeping her arms up and her voice even and calm. “You should be advised that Fletcher is the one who helped us survive the attack. We are working together now. On the same side.”
The gunman’s face turned sour. “Why would he ever do that?”
Krista shrugged. “Not sure. But he did. So did Dice. So you can put the gun down. We’re no longer adversaries.”
“Then he’s in charge now,” the gunman said in a matter-of-fact way. His face lost its tension for a few seconds as his eyes turned to the left, darting back and forth. When he brought them back up, he shook his hand again, making the gun wobble. “Keys. Now.”
Krista shook her head. “Sorry, don’t have them.”