Chapter 1

ONE

In the damp confines of the makeshift basement underground shelter, Emma crouched low, her slender fingers coaxing a frightened chicken to the feeding trough. The flickering light of her lantern cast shadows on the cracked concrete walls, illuminating the carefully arranged cages that housed her menagerie of farm animals. Apart from the soft clucking of the chickens and the occasional squeak of the rats in their enclosure, the basement of the derelict farmhouse was eerily quiet.

Even the animals knew that too much noise would be deadly.

The flicker of the lantern would give her position away to any roaming the streets, but she needed the light —not just to see, but to feel a small glimmer of safety.

Emma sighed as she eyed the small ventilation grate high up on the wall. It was time for her daily air quality check. With all the animals in the basement, she had to take risks with the air filters or run the risk of getting sick.

Grabbing her Geiger counter from its hook, Emma climbed the rickety ladder that sat along the wall for nearly twenty-four months for this exact purpose .

Slowly, she unscrewed the bolts that kept the grate firmly in place, the metal protesting against her ministrations. She held her breath as she extended the sensor through the narrow opening, her hazel eyes trained on the glowing display. The needle quivered, but thankfully, it didn't spike, indicating that the air remained breathable for one more day.

She sighed with relief, but this wasn't really a moment for celebration. In this desolate world, every breath was borrowed, every moment a gift not to be squandered. She had her animal charges to care for, after all, even if she was all alone otherwise.

Outside, the world had succumbed to the ravages of a bio-chemical toxin and what humanity did after.

The blasts had been quick but devastating, turning once-thriving cities into crumbling, irradiated wastelands and unleashed accidentally by those who were supposed to protect the people of the United States.

Survivors were left to fend for themselves in the unyielding embrace of the new reality.

Not every city was as destroyed as her home, but not every city was the blast site for a deadly biological weapon. While she lived on the outskirts of the city tending to a family farm, she'd been close enough.

Every survivor was forced underground or inside, trapped and locked away from the world they once enjoyed as a means of saving themselves from the toxin … and the people who came out to play in the wreckage.

For Emma, the stakes were even higher than just becoming someone's captive. The female population had been nearly decimated, with more than three-quarters of all women killed by the toxin bio-engineered to target female DNA. Of those who survived, most found their reproductive abilities rendered null by the toxin. The last report had stated that ninety percent of women who'd survived once the danger of the illness left and of age after the initial drop were barren.

Men roamed wasteland, scavenging for resources and controlling the meager supplies they encountered. They were ruthless, and their treatment of the remaining women was nothing short of barbaric. They stole women for pleasure or breeding. Neither were tasteful and too many men focused on their needs over the world when everything went to shit.

Emma was lucky.

She'd managed to evade capture the first weeks of the virus, hiding in the forgotten farmhouse on the outskirts of the town. Her days were spent scavenging for food and materials, her nights filled with restless sleep for fear of becoming what she called The Hunted.

But she endured, driven by the quiet strength that had carried her through the darkest of times. Her mother had thankfully died long before the toxin, her father passed about a year after the panic began.

Had the rest of the world stayed out of it, maybe only the great United States would have fallen.

But they didn't.

Other countries charged in, trying to claim the United States for their own too soon and found themselves prey to the bio-weapon. Even a year later, the air quality would often be infiltrated with it, and no one ever seemed to know how or why.

Wiping a hand over her brow, she pushed her unruly brown curls back only to find her dog Ranger—sitting at the base of the ladder, his black tail thumping to and fro.

"Not today. It's too many hours of sunlight in summer. We'll go for a walk soon. I promise." She pet the aging black lab on the head and stepped past him. While going out at night was hazardous, she was a target during the day .

As she returned to change the water for the cages, her gaze lingered on the makeshift armor hanging on the wall. It was crude, but it had served its purpose thus far. Who knew when she'd need it again? The world they now inhabited was unforgiving, and one could never be too prepared, lest they become the next meal for a ravenous horde or worse, be found as one who can become pregnant only to be tossed around from man to man in an effort to save the world.

Suddenly, a sound reached her ears—footsteps, heavy and deliberate, closing in on her sanctuary. She stiffened, every muscle taut with tension. In an instant, she was on the move, grabbing her trusty shotgun from its hiding place under the floorboards and preparing to shoot one of the few bullets she had if necessary.

In this desolate world, trust was a luxury she couldn't afford.

The footsteps moved on quickly, whoever it was wasn't looking for shelter and the damn farmhouse looked so awful, no one was going to assume someone already lived there, tucked away beneath the floorboards.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Emma returned the gun to under the floorboards, content that no one would come. The space was just big enough for her few belongings and some stolen luxuries, like a battered copy of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. It wasn't much, but it was home and she was safer than many.

Except those who chose to be with each other.

The bitter thought crept around now and again. She was not immune from feeling regret and being alone only seemed to make it her constant companion.

When the world first went to hell, she'd been twenty-two and still in college. A lonely, slightly friendless, student who'd turned down all offers to join a group of her peers when the stay at home order first commenced.

Others Emma's age acted like it was a party. They grouped up in basements or attics and fucked the days and nights away. It wasn't until a few months in when the infertility became known that the groupings mattered.

Emma had stayed with her father because his cancer made it impossible for him to fend for himself as the disease would eat away at him without access to Chemo. After he passed, her friends were no longer her friends. They saw her as breeding stock. Or a body to take their pleasure.

The truth was, Emma had no idea if she was fertile or not. When the government demanded women be round up like cattle, she'd stayed behind, hidden. Many had. Many went seeing paychecks in their eyes and not the truth of what would become of them.

All she knew was that she'd been able to get pregnant before the toxin—because she had.

The memory of the miscarriage burned through her stomach like a wave of lava. An accidental hook up six months before the toxin left her pregnant and then empty when a fetal heartbeat could not be found at her ten-week scan.

Better that way. Who the hell would raise a child in this?

Still, the pain of knowing that she almost had a child and now may never have one burned like an open wound and festered whenever the loneliness got to her.

Two years on her own had taught her to be strong, but had done nothing to ease the burden of being the only voice in the room when her father passed. She'd learned how to survive, but her life was not living. One day, she would shake off the fear and trust someone would protect her.

"Dinner now, pity later."

Her father had taught her how to garden when she was young, and now it was the only source of fresh food she had. As she rationed out her meager dinner from the vegetables, she grew in the basement, her thoughts drifted to the life she'd once known. She'd been studying library sciences then, surrounded by books and daydreams. Now, she was a hardened survivor in a world that no longer had room for her softness.

She sighed as she took a bite of her dinner. It tasted bland and unappetizing, but it was sustenance, and that was all that mattered. Emma had grown accustomed to the tasteless food over the past two years because flavor wasn't something you could afford when resources were scarce.

Her thoughts drifted to her father again.

He had been her rock in this new world. He had shown her how to survive on their own after the government issued stay at home orders. But when the cancer finally took him two years ago, Emma had been left alone to fend for herself and the animals.

Emma missed him dearly. His warm hugs and soothing words always made everything seem okay. But now there was no one to comfort her or protect her from the harsh realities of this new world.

With a heavy heart, Emma finished her meal and cleaned up after herself. As she washed the dishes in silence, she couldn't help but feel bitter toward those who chose each other during these difficult times. The thought of being alone for the rest of her life terrified her—but so did the thought of trusting someone just to be betrayed or used.

Crawling onto her makeshift bed, she clutched her knife to her chest. The world might have taken everything from her, but it hadn't taken her will to survive. And as long as there was still air in her lungs, she'd continue to fight.

The sun had just crept over the charred horizon when Emma awoke. The sky outside her basement bunker was a sickly shade of red, casting an ominous glow over the desolate landscape. She dressed quickly, donning her combat boots and fingerless gloves. Once, she'd been prepared to become a librarian, hoping to spend her time in daydreams as she read while she worked. Now she was a warrior, fighting for her life each day, even if some of that fight meant hiding away underground.

The new day meant venturing outside.

"Ranger, you're going to be in charge." She squatted down, dropping her hands onto her knees as she looked at her youngest companion. "Don't let Bo or Shadow take too many naps, they get lazy." She winked as if the lab would understand the joke.

Ranger's tail thumped once before he went and laid back down. He was young but knew this place well enough to guard the others.

Emma grabbed her backpack and her rifle and slung it over her shoulder with practiced ease. She'd never fired it, but she'd damn sure practiced like she would have to every day for the last two years. Sometimes not actually firing, other times doing so because it would have scared people off.

Emma climbed the rickety steps up from the basement and unlocked the door, letting it swing outward into the living room she'd grown up in. Dust covered everything, but she'd kept the front door locked and most people didn't venture this way because it was so out of the way from San Jose.

Pausing, Emma glanced around as sunlight filtered through the room. One day she would love to use this room again, but for now it was too dangerous. Moving with shaky steps, Emma crossed to the front door and unlocked it, pushing on it. It swung outward without protest, welcoming the outside in as she tugged the cloth mask over her face to avoid inhaling anything that could kill her.

The government often checked for traces of the toxin in the air the first year but stopped sending out information eighteen months ago. Emma had no doubt they were still checking in the background, but they clearly weren't wasting their time on survivors outside the men and women chosen to try to repopulate the earth.

She squinted against the dawn's harsh light, taking a deep breath of the acrid air. The once-thriving city was now a wasteland of ruins, houses having crumbled under the weight of time and neglect. The ground was littered with broken glass and twisted metal, making each step uncertain.

An eerie silence hung in the air as if nature itself held its breath at the devastation it had wrought. The only sounds were her boots crunching on broken concrete and metal scrapes from her rifle's strap brushing against the rough ground. Her heart thumped in rhythm with her footfalls. Even after two years of supply runs, she couldn't shake off the fear that lingered.

Her eyes darted left to right, searching for any signs of danger. The smell of burned rubber and death overwhelmed her. The air was thick with the coppery tang of blood, and it made her stomach turn. She knew what that scent meant, the Regulators were nearby.

The Regulators were a group of men who'd banded together in the wake of the plague, upholding their own twisted version of law and order. They were merciless and ruthless, taking what they wanted and leaving destruction in their wake. They weren't part of the military, and no one seemed to stop them.

Every creak of a twig underfoot sounded too loud in the stillness. Every rustle in the distance sent echoes of fear down her spine. Holding the rifle up, Emma looked down the barrel, ready to defend herself if necessary. But she had no intention of firing unless absolutely necessary. She didn't want to take a life, she just needed to be ready to.

"Well, well, well," drawled a deep voice from behind her. "Looks like we've found a little prize. "

Emma spun, her heart pounding in her chest. In front of her stood two men, their faces hardened by the harshness of this new world, almost like sandpaper in the sun. Their clothing was tattered and bloody, sprayed with obviously fresh droplets.

A man with ice-blue eyes smirked cruelly. "And here I thought you'd be more... entertaining to catch."

Emma knew she had two choices, submit or fight. And as she met the cold gaze of the Regulators, she knew she'd rather die on her feet than live on her knees. With a war cry that tore from the depths of her soul, she aimed the gun, ready to take a life.

As the two men closed in, she could almost hear the echoes of her past life: the laughter of her friends, the warmth of a hug from her mother, and the unspoken promises of a future she'd never have. But now, all that remained were the burning embers of a world long gone and the cold, desolate reality before her.

A hand reached out as she froze in panic, slamming the gun to the ground.

"That's a nasty way to meet someone who wants to help save the population." The second man, with dark brown eyes, smirked and revealed a bloody mouth.

Two gunshots rang out, and the men dropped to the ground. Emma spun, her heart slamming into her chest with enough force to crack her ribcage.

But there was no one there.

Had someone come to her rescue? But why would they have left without revealing themselves?

Fearing that the men might have backup nearby, Emma quickly grabbed her gun and began to run in the opposite direction. She didn't want to be caught in the middle of a battle between unknown parties.

Her heart raced as she rushed through the desolate landscape. If anyone was awake to be concerned about her speed, they didn't step outside their homes to check on her. Emma wasn't even certain how many homes on this street had residents tucked inside.

Emma collapsed behind a group of large rocks for cover. Her breaths came out in ragged gasps as she tried to calm down and assess her situation.

The taste of fear and adrenaline remained on her tongue as she sat there, catching her breath. Who were those men? And who had saved her?

Desperate for provisions, she knew she had to make her way to the only person she ever interacted with on a consistent basis, and fast. Trust was not easily given in this world, especially when one has been saved by someone unknown. She braced herself against the thought of betrayal—if her rescuer intended to use her for their own gain, she would not give them a chance to find her.

Survival was the top priority—no matter the cost.