Promised Land: The New Confederacy, #5

By Marella Sands

A Union city is in danger of being wiped off the map.

After an anthrax attack terrorized the Union's populace, Rook and Thorn have been busy attempting to figure out what the terrorist plan of Promised Land really means. The anthrax attack was merely the opening salvo. What's next?

Now Rook and Thorn learn that the German Empire has created a bomb that can destroy entire cities, and that Confederacy president Bradenton has one and has plans to use it. Multiple Union cities have been targeted for terrorist attack, but the bomb can only be sent to one. How can Rook and Thorn discover which Union city is Bradenton's main target, then find it, and defuse it in time? Old friends stand beside them while new enemies block their path toward saving the Union from not only its enemies, but itself.

The fifth book in the saga of Rook and Thorn brings more fast-paced action and engaging characters to this history of an alternate United States, and ties up their story in a rip-roaring fashion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Untreed Reads
• Release date: Nov 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798888601426

Book preview

1

THORN

The alien cocked its bulbous head at her, its lipless gray face drawn into an unpleasant scowl. Thorn shook from the cold it gave off, as if emitting it from its waxy gray skin. A black shadow that appeared to be wearing a top hat stood behind the alien, its face so shrouded in darkness, it might not have had one at all.

Within moments, though, the alien’s face changed. Now it looked like her first supervisor at the Citadel, whose name she had blessedly forgotten. He had never liked her.

You can’t stop me, the martinet said as his face melted into that of Hugo Brand, a terrorist she’d been hunting for months. What little information the Citadel had been able to gather on the man said he was a close associate with the true center of the terrorist ring, a mysterious man known only as the Piper.

The shadow behind Brand–the Piper?–put its hands on his shoulders and leaned forward. Its presence was more menacing than Brand’s. Thorn wanted nothing more than to run from it. Something about it raised an atavistic fight-or-flight response in her gut.

She fought the instinct and balled her hands into fists.

I’ll stop you, she said, though Brand smiled. Thorn was enraged. No one should ignore her! She didn’t make threats she didn’t intend to carry out. You, Brand, and you, too, Piper!

Her frustration with her current assignment nearly choked her. She’d been tasked to find Brand and she was only now within striking range, or so she hoped. Information had come in from a green badge working undercover that Brand was near Paducah. This was Thorn’s opportunity. She couldn’t waste it.

Time was of the essence. The Citadel had used every trick in its arsenal, including martial law, to find Brand and the Piper, but so far neither man had been apprehended. Even though some Union citizens felt the implementation of martial law in certain areas was justified due to the anthrax attack in the spring, those whose families and states had not been affected didn’t agree. Martial law had only made the Citadel more hated than ever.

While Thorn struggled to hit Brand, to get close enough to wipe the smirk off his face, he stood in front her, with the shadowy figure holding onto him from behind. Brand’s red-cheeked clean-shaven form taunted her with its gray stare, as if he knew he was safe as long as the shadow protected him.

Thorn!

Thorn startled awake, and Brand evaporated away from her conscious mind as if sliding down a drain. Or a sewer.

Rook, she said, acknowledging the man who’d woken her. She glanced around, reorienting herself to the interior of this unfamiliar vehicle. The night was dark with only the palest sliver of a moon to share any light. The stars might as well be chunks of dirty stone. The haze in the summer air kept them from their usual brilliance.

What the hell, Thorn? Rook asked, only half-annoyed, if his tone were any indication. You shouted and jerked about so much I thought you might clock me in the head. I’m driving, you know. Hitting the driver is definitely a bad plan.

Thorn rubbed her eyes and sat up in the seat. Rook had the truck’s air conditioner on full blast. No wonder she’d dreamed about being cold. No doubt. It was . . . a weird dream.

Nightmare?

She shrugged, even though Rook wouldn’t see that. She didn’t want to share the frightening ending, but the rest didn’t seem too otherworldly or unexplainable. Weird, she repeated. Brand was in it.

Of course, said Rook. I see him in my dreams sometimes, too. But the weird thing was, it started off with this alien.

Oh, said Rook. "Like in that new movie? Gray Summer? Chrissy wants to see it. I don’t think I do. I’ve had enough of being kidnapped for one lifetime. I told her she can go with her sister while I’m in the field."

"It’s The Summer of Grays, said Thorn. It wasn’t that good. The aliens don’t seem to have any motivation to do what they do. I mean, you cross the galaxy in a short time, which means you have faster-than- light travel or something equally impossible, but then you kidnap people to stick probes up their noses? Really? Anyway, Chrissy will probably like it."

Because my wife likes bad movies?

Thorn laughed. No, because she likes escapist fantasy, whether it’s fantastic or mediocre. Or, well, yes, even if it’s bad, she conceded. Chrissy’s family had spent generations in service to the Citadel. A few had been injured, or even killed, in the line of duty. That seemed to equate to Chrissy’s avoidance of true-to-life plots in favor of things like alien kidnappings. Or talking animals. Or musicals. But nothing that involved spying or terrorism. Too close to home.

You don’t think it will give her nightmares? asked Rook.

For a moment Thorn thought he was joking. Chrissy loved movies like The Summer of Grays. Why would watching one more give her nightmares?

Except Chrissy was weeks away from giving birth to her first child. Rook’s first child. He’d gotten more worried about everything, no doubt a case of parenthood jitters. Oh, I’m sure it won’t, said Thorn. She’s not easily frightened by movies.

Yeah, I guess, said Rook. He brushed his black hair over his left ear. That ear was ragged due to his Confederate kidnappers placing a cattle tag in it when he’d been in the death camp. He’d gotten a white tag to brand him as a race traitor. Thorn still wasn’t clear on what that meant. Being a traitor to the United States and its Constitution was a thing she understood, but a traitor to a race didn’t make any sense. Clearly, Rook had issues with his imprisonment and torture though it had been several years before.

You okay? she asked.

Rook knew she’s marked his gesture and determined what was behind it. In the faint glow of the dashboard lights, his smile looked somewhat forced. Yeah, sure. I still see the therapist, and Chrissy’s always on me to meditate and think about positivity.

Sounds like her, said Thorn. I think she wanted me to do that, too. Said it would make me less intense.

Rook laughed out loud. "Too bad she didn’t meet you when I did. That Delilah Thorn was intense. Maybe intense to the tenth power. You’re more mellow now. Having a relationship and a job where you had to be tactful took some of the starch out of your shoes."

Shoes? she asked. I don’t think you starch shoes.

It’s something I just made up. Rook slowed and peered into the darkness. We’re supposed to find the contact near here. Ten miles past the last turn-off, and two miles after the dilapidated barn and rusted signpost.

Fabulous directions, said Thorn, though she understood the necessity. At home, she had street signs, buildings, subway stations, and parks as reference points but once you left the city behind . . .

That might change within a year or two. She’d heard talk about the British and Japanese Empires joining forces to put rockets into space where they’d leave machines behind. Machines—satellites—that could send phone messages or maps anywhere on the globe. It sounded fantastical, like something out of one of Chrissy’s favorite movies. The Citadel would no doubt be anxious about security risks and whether the United States should sign on to receive the benefits of such technology, but Thorn was all for it. Security was important, but it was also important not to fall too far behind the leaders and innovators of technology. If the British and Japanese could put these satellites, and perhaps someday people, into orbit around the Earth, the United States should be right there with them.

A small break in the bushes caught her attention. Wait, said Thorn. I saw something.

Rook slowed to a halt, then backed up the road. Thorn stared at the bushes to the side of the road.

There. She tapped Rook on the shoulder and pointed to the left. The bushes, which lined the road had been knocked about in one spot. Leaves were wilted, lower branches broken. It was possible this was a game track, but she didn’t think so. You sure? asked Rook.

Thorn shrugged and focused her anxiety, let it energize her. She’d always been good at that. I don’t know. She’s supposed to be waiting.

Rook put the truck in park but left the motor running. Okay.

The sultry midsummer air slapped her in the face, a shock after the frigid air conditioning. Within moments, the whine of mosquitoes filled Thorn’s ears. Damn insects. She slapped one away from her face. Sweat ran down her back. She hated sweat.

Thorn walked around the truck and walked through the bushes. She pulled a small flashlight out of her pocket. Wouldn’t do to walk right past someone in the dark, especially if that someone was your contact.

Oh, shit, said Rook, from behind her.

Rook had his flashlight pointed to the right and down. Thorn shone her own light in that direction.

The soil between two scraggly bushes had been trampled, and was wet with what appeared, in the near darkness, to be red goo. Blood. Not old enough to be dry, but not fresh, either.

Beyond the puddle was a bloodied shoe. Thorn clenched her jaw.

Was the contact still alive?

I don’t think our contact’s going to meet us, said Rook. He shone his light around them, but all Thorn saw in the sweeping beam were rocks and bushes.

Damn, said Thorn. She didn’t know who they were to meet, only that the woman had been one of the Citadel’s deep cover agents. She’d been posted in Kentucky for years, as someone who’d be willing to flip on the Citadel for the right price. No one had come knocking on her door until Promised Land. Now she was injured, or dead.

Or she injured someone else and escaped. Thorn’s heart wanted to hold that hope.

Rook took a deep breath. We should get back to Paducah.

Thorn brushed mosquitoes away. This assignment isn’t over. We need to find out what happened. I’ve never been closer to Brand. I need to know if he’s here.

We can ask the local handler to contact the other undercover agents. There must be several. The Citadel never puts its eggs in one basket. There are other agents who are looking for Brand, including Yours Truly. You’re not alone. His voice wasn’t angry, but Thorn didn’t expect anger from Rook over her desire to follow her intuition. He trusted her. She could depend on that like she could depend on the sun coming up in a few hours.

In the distance, Thorn saw a flash of light. There, she said. That must be them. Her gut called for her to go to the light. Was Brand there? She wanted to know. She needed to know.

Let’s go, said Rook. This mission’s been blown.

We don’t know that for sure, said Thorn. She pushed Rook toward the truck. Turn off your flashlight. We can salvage this. In her gut, she knew she wasn’t giving up. It was her chance to find Brand, use him to get closer to the Piper, and discover what Promised Land meant. She could pretend to be a turncoat. She’d been undercover before. Not by choice, but she’d done it.

You can’t stay, said Rook. I won’t leave you. We were supposed to meet her, get whatever intel she had, and resupply.

Thorn marched back toward the truck. Fine. I’ll take the supplies but then I’m gone.

You can’t stay, said Rook again but Thorn could hear resignation in his voice.

Yeah, I can, said Thorn. I will. If the contact has been compromised, that gives me an opportunity.

I don’t see how.

Thorn put her arm over the truck bed and grabbed the small, worn backpack they’d brought the contact. Now it would be hers. She pulled her badge out of her pocket and handed it to Rook.

Go, she said. Give my love to Porter. Her heart slammed against her ribs but she did her best to ignore it. She hadn’t seen Porter in two months and missed him desperately. Daily phone calls only made things worse. Tell him I’ll be fine and I’ll be back for our anniversary. Tell Overton to change up the schedules and locations of patrols, but not too fast. I’ll need information to trade and the information has to be good for me to sell myself as trustworthy.

Wait . . .

Thorn didn’t. She melted into the night, toward the light, but with her flashlight off for now. She didn’t want to attract the attention, assuming she and Rook hadn’t already. She needed to buy Rook time to drive away.

A small voice in the back of her mind screamed to go back. She had no idea what she was walking into, and no way to get out if things went south.

She heard the Thorn’s truck turn around and head toward Paducah. The sound made Thorn feel more lonely and frightened than she could remember. The little voice in her head shut up for a moment. She couldn’t chase the truck so she was stuck now, no matter how afraid she was.

Fear was good. It would keep her on her toes. She readjusted the backpack over her shoulder and marched forward. Time to work.

2

Thorn walked but didn’t rush. She didn’t want to trip over a root or stumble into a ditch. An injury would be foolish. She had no way to contact Rook if she were hurt. Forward was the only direction to go. Forward into more mosquitoes. The sound in her ears was horrendous and she felt them land on her neck, face, and arms. She brushed away as many as she could. Her hands came away with crushed bodies and sweat. She was dripping with it.

The only thing she knew was she had to get in with this group to find out if Brand were here, and if he could lead her to the Piper. Once she knew what Promised Land was and the location of the Piper, she could report to the Citadel. Her heart burned with the need to protect the Union.

The ground was hard and contained enough rocks that walking was difficult. Thorn almost fell several times, but managed to catch herself each time. If anyone were watching her, she must look like a lurching puppet.

Better than faceplanting in the dirt.

Stop right there, said someone. The voice was deep and gravelly. Thorn stopped.

Who are you?

Is that any of your business? she asked with as much asperity as she could muster.

Anything happens around here is my business, said the voice. The accent was local, or close to it, but Thorn detected a hint of Arkansas. He was from the Confederacy but had been in Paducah for some time.

What’s your name? the gravelly voiced man asked.

I’m Graybird, she said. That would work so long as the previous agent had not made contact. Thorn waited, barely able to breathe. If this man had met Graybird, Thorn and the contact would both be dead.

I don’t make jokes, and I won’t take any from you, neither, said the man.

It’s not a joke, Thorn snapped. Could it be he didn’t recognize the name? Relief threatened to overwhelm her, but she tamped it down. He might be stringing her along. That’s the name I’m to use. If you’re with the people I’m to meet, then that’s the name you should know. I’m Graybird, and I’m here to talk to those who know how to contact the Piper.

The man hesitated. What’s in the pack?

Food. Water. A towel, a firestarter kit, a bit of rope. Nothing unusual. Thorn was grateful she’d packed the bag. She knew every item in it. This man wouldn’t catch her out on any mistakes.

No weapons?

Thorn allowed herself a small huff. "There’s a knife. A small one. It’s not useful for much, but I guess I could scratch you with it if you stood still long enough."

The man grunted. You sure we’re the ones you’re looking for? His voice was harsh. She doubted, even if she said, no, I’m not sure, that she’d be allowed to walk away now she was so close to people who didn’t want, or expect, to be disturbed.

Thorn was also slightly surprised by the question. She had expected a comeback like I’d like to see you try or You won’t get the chance. This man had more self-control than many she’d met in the field.

Well, at least the information he wanted had been in Graybird’s last communique. The Piper is the name I’ve got. I’m to ask about him specifically, said Thorn. "Now, can we get to the fire,