The Fall (Book 3): War of the Living Read Free

and follow me. We need to interrogate him as soon as possible.”
    Not for the first time, Kell felt a deep pang of disquiet. New Haven wasn't like North Jackson, the first community he had joined. There, safety depended on heavy walls and a rigid command structure, both of which had their weaknesses. New Haven had none of the corruption in the leadership he had discovered in North Jackson, but there were trade-offs.
    Dodger was a kind man, but the hard look in his eyes as he asked Kell to bring the prisoner seemed to belong to someone else. Like almost everyone from New Haven, Dodger had a hard edge just below the surface.
    These people would do almost anything to ensure the survival of their community. In theory this was an attitude Kell could appreciate and understand. They weren't a bloodthirsty lot, just...resigned. Willing to do what they must, without hesitation.
    It was seeing this in practice that filled him with doubt. His new home was full of good and decent people, but they were being pushed by the Hunters and other aggressors right up to the limit of what they could handle. Kell's fear was not that New Haven was full of evil people.
    It was for what they would become when finally pushed too far.

Part One
 
 
Autumn:
The Reaping

One
     
    Two days after their successful assault on the Hunter camp, the strike force began to plan the next. The prisoner, faced with being impossibly outnumbered and utterly at the mercy of his captors, relented after only mild questioning, giving them invaluable information. Dodger didn't take his word for it; scout teams were sent out immediately to verify his claims.
    It didn't take long. The captive, a font of information named Martinez, confirmed several suspicions about the mysterious group. The Hunters worked from a central hub, a massive compound a few hundred miles west of New Haven itself and hidden well enough to be effectively invisible unless you were right on top of it. They worked in units, each handling a set of communities. That was how Martinez put it. Handling , as if razing the homes of survivors was as simple as taking out the trash.
    Kell sat on a tree stump at the edge of their camp, slowly running a file down the point of his spear. The aluminum was tough but did need some attention, though at the moment the point was as deadly as it had ever been. The movement was solely an activity to occupy his hands while he thought, as much a habit in the new world as talking to himself over petri dishes had been in the old.
    “If you keep thinking that hard, your brain is going to freeze that way,” a voice said from over his shoulder.
    Kell turned with a smile. “Kate,” Kell said. “When did you get here?”
    The small woman threw a heavy duffel to the ground, then plopped onto it. Flexing her back, she yawned. “Just now. Dan and I volunteered for the resupply, along with a couple others. Thought you might like to see a few more familiar faces.”
    Kell's smile grew. As much as he loved Kate, Dan showing up would inevitably lead to better and more regular food. Not that the guy was an amazing chef or anything, but his ability to organize the shit out of almost any group of people bordered on the supernatural. Which, in a world where survival was the primary concern of pretty much everyone, and food was on top of the survival check list, usually meant Dan made sure everyone had plenty of top-notch grub on hand.
    “I thought Laura would come on this trip, actually,” Kell said. “She hasn't left New Haven in months.”
    Kate frowned slightly, the corners of her mouth deepening with lines. “I offered to let her take my spot,” she said. “Didn't want to come. She looked...hell, man, if I didn't know her better I'd say she was scared. Laura, of all people.”
    She laughed as if this were the most absurd idea possible, but Kell rubbed a finger along the stubble dusting his jaw. “Yeah, I was starting to get that impression too.”
    Kate blinked. “Seriously?