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Cooper thought about the preparations Epstein was making right this moment, about Samantha being kidnapped—a sudden motion and a hood over her head and the smell of chemicals before she lost consciousness. About a fist of smoke smashing a window and killing his friends and a thousand others. About a teenage corpse spinning at the end of a rope while Soren counted the holes of his cell. “What I have to.”

She gazed back at him, her expression darkening. “You don’t want to tell me.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I’m not proud of it.”

“Will it get you John Smith?”

“It has to.”

“Then do it.” Natalie’s voice was steady. “Whatever it is.”

For a long moment they stared at each other in the twilight room. Then he cupped her cheek and nodded.

NEW SONS OF LIBERTY NEARING TESLA

President Ramirez condemns NSOL, but “hands are tied.”

Since breaching the New Canaan fence line on December 17th, the NSOL forces have traveled almost 80 miles, and are now nearing the capital city of Tesla. The civilian militia, which numbers approximately 17,000, suffered heavy casualties in a drone bombardment but has otherwise advanced without resistance. Under the direction of Erik Epstein, citizens of the Holdfast have been falling back to Tesla, long reputed to be protected by technological defenses.

In a brief prepared statement today, President Ramirez condemned the civilian militia, but said that due to the ongoing rollback of computer technology in US armed forces, the government could not directly intervene . . .

CHAPTER 23

The old man sat on the porch, fingerless gloves gripping the shotgun in his lap. He held it comfortably, like someone who considered it a tool. The kind of guy who would refer to it as a loaded burglar alarm.

Best Luke could tell, he was all that was left of the town of Cloud Ridge, the last outpost before Tesla.

Over the last days, the New Sons had traveled almost seventy miles, each one of them earned. Epstein may have run out of bombs, but he continued to harry the New Sons. Snipers dogged them at a distance, too far away and too poorly trained to score many kills, but every time there was the crack of distant gunfire, the whole army jumped. All day long, gliders kited silently above, their pilots dropping everything from bowling balls to Molotov cocktails. All night long, the abnorms used their audio projection trick, blaring taunts and sirens and loud music. None of it did much real damage, but it was wearing the men out. They were tired and radiated twitchy violence.

The horses, at least, had turned out to be a stroke of genius. Since the EMP disabled the vehicles, they pulled the bulk of the supplies. Miller had ordered hundreds of vans and SUVs gutted, the engines removed and seats discarded to transform them into makeshift wagons. The symbolism of the situation didn’t escape Luke. A ragtag army leading a horse train against a small minority capable of projecting their voices from the heavens. It was the norm-abnorm conflict made a metaphor and underlined in blood.

Cloud Ridge was more a town than a city, with just over two thousand inhabitants. It was unlike any place Luke had ever seen. Instead of growing organically over decades, as most places did, it had been designed by urban planners and laid down as a unified whole in a matter of months. Everything was organized for function and efficiency, from the broad avenues surrounding the town park to the solar farm, hundreds of automated panels moving in perfect sync.

And all abandoned. Luke wasn’t surprised, but he was disappointed. After the ass-kicking Epstein’s drones had laid down and the constant harassment since, it would have been gratifying to face a battle. Even if every man, woman, and child in town had lined up against them, the New Sons could have smashed them. Which, of course, was why the place was empty. Their enemies weren’t fools.

“Put it down, old man!” The militiaman was one of a dozen surrounding the porch, all clearly hoping for a fight. But the geezer just turned and spat.

Luke said, “Howdy.”

“You the guy in charge?”

“One of them.”

“Well, screw you, then.”

“Why didn’t you go on to Tesla yesterday with everybody else?” The timing was a guess, but one he was confident in. No doubt Epstein had tracked the militia’s progress with drones, plotted it on radar, used computer simulations to project their progress. The order to clear out would have been given with exactly the right amount of time.

“This is my home.”

“Son or daughter?”

“Huh?”

“You’re too old to be an abnorm. Plenty of sympathizers came here, but I’m guessing at your age, it’s something else.”

“Aren’t you the clever one.” The man shifted, and a dozen fingers touched a dozen triggers. “Granddaughter.”

“Your whole family came here?”

“My son, his wife, their kids. The youngest, Melissa, she’s gifted, and none of us were gonna let her end up in an academy.”