The Survivors: Book One

Crack!

Marc spun, .45 in hand, and the wolf bristled alertly at his side, but it was only the reeking water destroying more debris that was now able to move downstream. He shook his head at his jumpiness, and got moving again towards the white church that was still a mile away. He had taken the leave to attend his mother's funeral and instead, found himself alone, in the place that had never been his home. The only living thing he'd seen was Dog curled up on the front porch, the blood in his fur still tacky.

"Like he'd known I was coming."

Marc thought of the window the wolf had broken through. The torn-up basement was the only damage he'd found in the whole house. Not even the door had been kicked in, so he didn't think they had been taken in the draft. The fact that they had put Dog in the basement suggested something darker, but he pushed the renegade thoughts away, not really feeling the urge to search for any of them. They hadn't been family in a long time. If they had found safety and hadn't wanted him there, so be it. They were the last group of people he would want to survive with anyway.

Guilt and awful loneliness reared its head, reminding him it hadn't yet gone away, and Marc forced himself to lock down on those thoughts as he taught others to do. For them, it was to keep from being distracted and blowing their mission. He did it now to keep from drowning under a tide of guilt.

Fresh waves threatened, and Marc forced his mind away again, hating that tiny, ashamed part of him that was glad she had died unhappy. He had spent more than a decade living that way, and it was only fair his mother should feel some of it, since she was the one responsible.

Marc had wandered a little after finding nothing at home, but it hadn't taken long for him to become very restless and start looking for people, for his own kind. He had once been sworn to his country, and while he still wore his tags beneath his fatigue shirt and long, black leather trench coat, the America he had served was busy dying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He had no real desire to return to his base in New Mexico, either, and now that the future looked so grim, he was fairly sure he wouldn't. The whole world was FUBAR (9). Everything and everyone he had ever known was gone.

"Are you sure?"