The Survivors: Book One

The numbers were staggering, inconceivable, and yet, real. The world's worst fears had been proven true. The horribly high cost of freedom was settled in the blood of the innocent, as debts like these, in the end, always are. The people should have been prepared, ready, and instead, the governments expected to protect, hurt their citizens as much as the actual bombs. The Draft took tens of thousands of desperately needed doctors, scientists, nurses and engineers, and they stripped farms and factories alike of their crops and livestock, leaving their owners bodies rotting where they fell. They took it all.

Some people fled before the President's broadcast began airing, tipped off by determined sources as the governments began locking it down. A few of those quick-thinking souls survived, but flight was not an option for most. There were loved ones and supplies to be gathered first, and by then, the roads crammed with traffic and accidents were impassable, forcing people to either wait in their cars for the convoys of draft trucks, or set out on foot to find somewhere to hide.

Those were the ones who fled too late, and were caught out in the open with all those who had already been on the road for the holiday. The rest hunkered down where they were and hoped their town wasn't a direct target, or close to one.

Only two of every nine Americans survived the end of the world. This is our story…