Page 33 of Echos and Empires (After #3)
SEVENTEEN
Chris stared again at the damning report, the words blurring together as a cold dread continued to seep into his bones.
This couldn’t be real. But even as disbelief clawed at his mind, a traitorous voice whispered that he’d always suspected something deeply wrong about Victor Warrington.
He’d just never imagined the scale of it, the sheer audacity and cruel calculation spelled out in stark black and white.
Warrington had spent years preparing for this, amassing resources and consolidating power while the rest of the world burned.
He had an army at his command, a stranglehold on the island’s supplies, and a network of informants that made organizing any resistance a deadly gamble.
It would take more than a ragtag band of survivors to topple a man who fancied himself humanity’s savior.
But Chris refused to let depression take hold. He’d faced impossible odds before and come out the other side. This was just one more battle, one more fight for the right to live free. And he wasn’t alone.
His gaze swept over the others, taking in their expressions of shock and horror, the way they leaned into each other for support.
There was fear there, yes, but also a flicker of the same defiant fire that had brought them together in the first place and kept them together when they found Emma years later.
These were no longer just his comrades, bound by the necessities of survival.
They were his family. And he would burn the whole damn world down before he let anyone tear them apart.
Chris knew that the stakes had just been raised to a terrifying new height. Because it wasn’t just their own lives on the line anymore. It was the tiny, fragile sparks of new life that Emma carried.
The promise of a future beyond mere survival.
In the face of Warrington’s grand designs, their unborn children seemed impossibly small and vulnerable. But to Chris, they were everything. They were his hope, pure and simple. And he would fight with every last breath in his body to protect that hope and his children.
They had battled starvation, sickness, the slow creep of radiation, and the cruelty of desperate men. They had carved out a place for themselves in the ashes of the old world and then grown flowers in the new one.
And now, they would face this new threat the same way they had all the others—together.
Chris’s jaw tightened with resolve. Victor Warrington wanted to play god?
Well, he was about to learn that even gods could bleed.
And this little band of survivors, this patchwork family forged in the flames of the apocalypse?
They would be the ones to bring him to his knees.
Because there was one thing Chris knew with bone-deep certainty. He would storm the very gates of hell to keep his family safe.
And that was a promise he’d keep just as he’d kept all the others.
He met each of their gazes in turn, a general marshaling his troops. They had to be smart about this, cautious. One wrong move, one whisper in the wrong ear, and they’d be finished before they even began.
“Let’s go over where we’re all going to look for an army. We need to ensure we’re not doubling up. Not doing anything that would make people suspicious.
Alex leaned forward, his hazel eyes sharp.
“So, Liam and I tried this before and nothing happened, but maybe this time will different. I can listen around the clinic. People talk when they’re in pain, or worried about someone they love.
If there’s resentment brewing, I’ll hear it and pull them aside. ”
Chris nodded, choosing to ignore the reminder that Liam—and apparently Alex—had acted without his knowledge.
The clinic was a good start, a place where people might let their guard down. “Good. But be careful. We can’t afford to tip our hand.You’ll have enough on your plate ensuring Emma isn’t harmed, and that she escapes with her memories intact after each check up.”
“When I take Ranger out for walks, bet I can sneak closer to them. People don’t pay as much attention when there’s a cute dog around.
They let things slip.” Liam chimed, his glasses resting on the keyboard instead of his nose.
Chris didn’t blame him for not wanting to see the words any longer.
“Before I was focused on a way out if we needed one. This time I’ll be listening. ”
Beside him, the big black lab thumped his tail at the sound of his name. There was something reassuring about Ranger’s presence, a reminder of the simple bonds that still endured. Chris felt a flicker of gratitude for Liam’s quick thinking.
“I’ll keep an eye out at the work building,” William offered, his voice quiet but sure. “If there are any signs of organized discontent, I’ll spot them.”
It was an angle, Chris had to admit. William had a way of noticing things others missed, of reading the undercurrents. In this case, that talent could be invaluable.
Bash cracked his knuckles, the sound like a gunshot in the tense quiet. “I can try to get a read on some of the security guys. See if any of them seem a little less than thrilled with the boss man.”
Coming from anyone else, it might have sounded like bravado. But Chris knew the depth of Bash’s experience, the keenness of his instincts. If anyone could sniff out a potential ally among Warrington’s goons, it was him.
“I can talk to some of the other pregnant women, maybe—” Emma began, but she was immediately cut off by a chorus of vehement objections.
“Absolutely not,” Chris bit out, an icy fear seizing his heart at the thought. “You’re already at risk, Emma. I won’t have you putting yourself in any more danger.”
“But I can help!” she insisted, her eyes flashing. “They might talk to me, one mother to another. I can’t just sit on the sidelines, not with everything that’s at stake!”
“Emma.” It was Liam who spoke, his voice uncharacteristically somber. “Please. We need you safe. Those little ones need you safe.”
For a moment, Emma looked like she might argue further. But then her shoulders slumped, one hand coming up to rest on the gentle swell of her belly. “Fine,” she murmured, though the word clearly tasted bitter on her tongue. “I’ll stay out of it.”
Relief, tinged with guilt, washed through Chris. He hated benching her, hated the hurt and frustration that clouded her features. But the thought of losing her, of losing their twins... it was more than he could bear. He would shoulder any burden, endure any sacrifice, to protect them.
“We’ve got a plan,” he said, looking around at his battered, determined crew. “But we need to be smart. Careful. We’ll win if we are, I don’t care what hte odds are.”
“There’s something else we’re not talking about,” William said, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a blade.
Chris looked up, a new dread coiling in his gut at the expression on the strategist’s face.
It was a look he’d seen before, in the early days of the outbreak—the look of a man who’d just realized the monster under the bed was real.
“The report mentioned a weapon. Something psychological, something Warrington’s been developing in secret.” William’s words were clipped, his knuckles white where they gripped the damning pages. “It says... it says it could change everything. Give him total control.”
The room went still, a held breath, as the implications sank in. Chris felt the fear rise up, a choking tide, as his mind raced with the possibilities.
What could it be? Some kind of drug, maybe, or a subliminal message system? Something to warp people’s perceptions, to twist their loyalties? The very idea made his skin crawl.
Beside him, Alex swore under his breath. “Mind control,” the medic muttered, his face pale. “And memory alteration. It’s possible, Emma confirmed it a little bit ago. Who wants to bet those vitamins create some sort of altered state where Victor can easily convince people to do something?”
“Or if there’s something in each one that builds up in the bloodstream that could work like a magnet or something when a flip is switched.” William hissed.
“Jesus,” Liam breathed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Can you imagine? He could turn people into his puppets, make them do anything he wanted. Or just... just flip a switch and shut down anyone who opposed him.”
The thought was chilling, the stuff of dystopian nightmares. But Chris couldn’t shake the feeling that they were on the right track. It fit with everything else they knew about Warrington—the secrecy, the iron control, the messiah complex.
Bash’s voice was a low growl, his green eyes hard as flint. “It would be the ultimate weapon. Not just physical control, but breaking people from the inside out. Turning them against each other, against themselves.”
Chris’s stomach turned at the thought. It was insidious, a violation on the deepest level, deeper than destroying lives. And if Warrington succeeded the whole Island could be destroyed because he knew the mother’s and father’s here wouldn’t let their children be at risk.
“He wins over the next generation,” Emma whispered, her arms wrapped protectively around her middle. “Mold them in his image. They’d never even know they had a choice. Our children,” she broke off with a sharp cry and Chris wrapped his arms around her.
The horror of it was staggering. The idea of his child, of any child, subjected to that kind of manipulation made Chris want to howl with fury. Made him want to tear Warrington apart with his bare hands.
But beneath the anger, a cold certainty was taking root. Because now he understood the true scope of what they were up against. It wasn’t just a matter of overthrowing a tyrant, or wrestling control of the island’s resources.
It was a battle for the very soul of humanity. For the right to think, to feel, to be free. Warrington wasn’t just a threat to their physical safety—he was a threat to everything that made them human.