Read Online Final Dawn: Season 3 (The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Series) by Mike Kraus - Free Book Online

all we’ll have to do is fire her up and the nanobots should be gone just like that.”
     
    “I hope you’re right.” Rachel sighed heavily and stood up, stretching her arms and legs as she rose.
     
    “Okay, that’s enough doom and gloom for now.” Marcus jumped to his feet. “We’ll have plenty of time for that later. For now, we need to set up a watch pattern. I’m feeling alert enough, so I’ll go first. David, you can go next, then Rachel.”
     
    Standing there at the front of the locomotive, one arm bound in a sling with bandages taped across his shoulder, Marcus looked like he had been to hell and back. His attitude, on the other hand, was that of a boisterous three year old once again, happy and full of energy. Rachel smiled at him, glad to see that he was beginning to return to his old self. After being worried about him, and how he and David were behaving toward each other, it was good to see a positive change in the midst of everything that was going on.
     
    As Rachel stretched out near the back of the locomotive with Sam curled up next to her, she couldn’t help but think about Marcus’s question. “Wish we had left him alive or something?” Having the thought of Doe to deal with had kept her marginally distracted from the larger picture. With that distraction now gone and left by the side of the tracks to rot, she had no other choice but to face the AI head on, including the numerous implications that came with it. Doing so meant dredging up thoughts and feelings she hadn’t considered for many days. Rachel closed her eyes, but instead of darkness, the image of her daughter flashed by, followed by her husband and her home. Cities that she had passed through, the remnants of bodies, burned out cars and collapsed buildings all came trickling back to the forefront of her thoughts, though they didn’t come alone. A slow, steady buildup of guilt accompanied them, along with a profound sense of emptiness. A rustle from David several feet in front of her suddenly made her wonder. Does he feel the same thing? If David felt a similar measure of guilt for what had happened, he didn’t show it.
     
     

 
    Leonard McComb | Nancy Sims
    7:02 AM, April 25, 2038
     
    The clear skies that had allowed the Arkhangelsk to obtain imagery of the canal persisted through the morning. Commander Krylov rotated the periscope slowly as the Arkhangelsk sailed the last few miles down the coast past Veracruz on its way into the first section of the canal. The soft tap of rubber on the metal floor made Krylov turn around and he smiled as Nancy and Leonard approached him.
     
    “Ms. Sims! Mr. McComb! So good of you to be here.” There was no trace of the dark sarcastic humor Krylov had shown earlier in the darkened hallway. Nancy and Leonard had gotten no sleep, having spent the last few hours discussing Krylov’s strategy to take out the bridge the creatures were using to cross over the canal.
     
    “Commander.” Leonard nodded and sat down in a seat next to the periscope. Krylov stepped back and motioned for Nancy to step forward.
     
    “Please, take a look, Ms. Sims. Place your arms on the handles and use them to turn left and right.”
     
    Nancy pressed her forehead against the padded surface above the eyepiece, well-worn from years of use. The bright light of the rising sun made her squint as her eyes struggled to adjust. As the outside world came into focus, Nancy began to see the coastline take shape, with beaches, trees and a few scattered houses near a large runway in the distance. As Nancy slowly rotated the periscope, her hand brushed against a button on the side of one of the handles, causing the magnification of the scope to change. Everything in her view suddenly leapt forward, appearing larger than it had before and startling her in the process.
     
    To someone who hadn’t spent weeks traveling cross-country and witnessing destruction on a scale never before seen by mankind, the few shattered