Isolation by Jones, Nathan (the first e reader .TXT) 📗

Jay's out of control and needs to be stopped. Did you know Mrs. Gerson got a concussion from the explosion, and Gen was only twenty or so feet from Mayor Darby and Darrel, on the wall, when they were shot?”

Nick felt his heart clench at that. No, he hadn't known. “Is she okay?”

“She is. She was afraid you'd worry so she wrote you a note.” Ellie held up a wrinkled paper wrapped around a rock, hefting it in his direction.

He quickly ducked to pick it up, unwrapping the note and reading eagerly. It was short, just a few lines:

“Nick,

Just wanted to make sure you knew I'm safe, with all the craziness at the barricades. I'm praying for you . . . wish you could be here with me. Just promise you'll be careful out there, okay?

Love you,

Gen.”

I promise, he thought, gently folding the note and tucking it into his pocket beside the others. But what he couldn't promise was that he wouldn't take any risks. Because Jay's attack had put her in danger, and it was obvious the man was only going to do worse from here.

He needed to be stopped.

“Thanks,” Nick said, flashing Ellie and Ricky a reassuring smile. “Hang in there . . . I'll let you know what we decide to do.”

He made his way into the survivors' camp, stopping by the scavengers' section to put away his gear and hug Tallie close for a few minutes. It was obvious she'd missed him, especially with all the frightening events of the attack, and she clung to him tight the entire time.

He wanted to bring her with him when he went in search of Denny, but he had a feeling their topic of conversation wasn't going to be appropriate for a five-year-old.

So he reluctantly kissed her on the cheek and handed her back to Aimee. “Thanks for being so great about watching her,” he said.

“Of course,” the young woman said, cuddling the sulking girl and trying to distract her with a candy bar. Which worked pretty well; soon Tallie was munching happily.

Nick gave his daughter a last wave goodbye, then strode through camp towards the impromptu command tent where Denny organized patrols and sentry shifts.

He found the man there, slumped in a chair staring up at the cloth roof. Although the moment Denny realized it was Nick who'd just walked in he immediately leapt to his feet, some of his energy restored. “There you are.”

Nick blinked. “Did you need me? I was just on my shift.”

Denny waved that away. “You and your group clapped eyes on Jay's camp. Starr wanted to get a description of its layout, as detailed as you can manage. Come on.”

The man ducked out of the tent, and Nick followed him towards the border between the survivors' camp and the main camp. Once there they had to wait a minute or two while someone ran and grabbed the old veteran.

“So we're thinking about hitting the camp?” Nick asked.

Denny snorted. “Hitting it? We're thinking about dealing with it for good.”

Nick hoped the man wasn't talking about anything too drastic, but before he could press for details Starr strode up, flanked by a handful of his team leaders. “All right, Statton,” he said briskly. “Tell me all about Jay's camp . . . approaches, terrain, layout, defenses, everything you can remember.”

That took longer than expected, mostly because Starr had specific questions to ask. Details that Nick hadn't paid much attention to at the time, so he had to strain to remember.

Finally, though, he must've painted a picture of the camp that satisfied the older man, because Starr grunted and settled back on his heels. “That'll do, assuming you remembered correctly.”

Nick certainly hoped he had. “What exactly is our plan here?”

“To hit that camp and send Jay and his maniacs packing,” Starr growled. “Then make sure they stay gone, if we can. Enough is enough.”

Nick certainly agreed with the sentiment, although it wasn't exactly that simple. “It's going to be just the survivors in this attack, right? Do we have the numbers or the training to hit a group like that?”

“In a straight up firefight?” The old veteran shrugged. “Even if we caught them by surprise, it'd be dicey. And even if we won handily, it would probably involve a lot of deaths. Luckily we have another option.”

He motioned to one of the team leaders with him, who was lugging a duffel bag. The man dropped into a crouch to open it and withdrew a long length of thick elastic cord, attached to a bucket in the center. It was pretty easy to identify.

Nick raised an eyebrow. “That's what I think it is, right?”

“One of a dozen giant slingshots,” Starr agreed grimly. He pulled a section of cord tight, then released it with a deep-sounding thrum. “Pretty much the same tactic Jay used against us with his Zolos attack, but we spent a bit more time on these. They should shoot twice as far.” He slapped the bucket that would form the pocket of the giant slingshot. “And this should be fireproof, with a rope for us to hold while we pull it back to launch so we can stay far from the flames.”

“Flames?” Nick asked uneasily.

The old veteran nodded. “Balls of rags soaked in gasoline and wrapped around rocks to help increase their range. Should do the job of burning up all Jay's tents, vehicles, and supplies.”

That was all well and good, but tents, vehicles, and supplies wouldn't be the only things in that camp. “What about the people in there?” Nick protested. “I thought you wanted to make them leave without a lot of deaths . . . being burned alive is one of the worst ways to go.”

“We'll do our best to scare everyone away before we really begin bombarding the camp,” Starr replied. “But I won't lie, some people will probably get burned.” He narrowed his eyes at Nick, as if expecting him to protest, and continued firmly. “Those maniacs sent trucks full