FERAL FATE (PAPERBACK)

Chapter 1
Gunner

A wave of utter uselessness scraped through Gunner’s veins as he snapped his gaze from the tiny island beyond the breaking waves, to the expressions of hope plastered on the faces of the remaining survivors sharing the life raft with him.
Sykes and a bunch of able-bodied men were frantically trying to untie the ropes that connected the four pods together, two with supplies and equipment, two crammed full of survivors.
Gunner would be right there helping the men if his hand hadn’t been reduced to a mangled bunch of barbaric stitches at the end of his arm. Instead, as he oversaw the raft preparation, riding yet another wave of nausea, he had to listen to the excited ramblings of the people sharing the pod with him.
They weren’t even on dry soil yet and they were already planning long showers and hot meals and sleeping in a real bed.
The first thing he’d do would be to call his wife. But thinking of her and his daughter was both a blessing and a curse. His heart ached for them. Hell, everything ached for them. His mind shattered into a million pieces as he tried to picture how they were coping after those twin EMP attacks.
They weren’t prepared for an event like that.
Far from it.
They didn’t stockpile food or hide spare equipment in secure places. They didn’t even have a water tank. Adelle was strong. And capable. And incredibly smart. But she had Bella to think of. Their seven-year-old daughter had inherited her mother’s stubborn streak and she could be a handful, especially when she was hungry or tired.
Gunner needed to get home to them. He’d already been away too long.
He studied the island again, desperate to prove his gut instinct wrong.
But his despair sank even deeper. There was absolutely nothing to indicate the island was inhabited. They were likely still thousands of miles from home.
The sun was their enemy, swiftly sinking into the western horizon and stealing light with every second. Minutes were bleeding away.
Finally, they’d untied the ropes. But now they had the greatest challenge of all.
Eight of their strongest survivors—Sykes, Sterling, Ken, Col, Zon, Willis, Quinn, and Jackson—had to row the four pods and their precious cargo of survivors and supplies to that island. It tore him to shreds that he wasn’t one of them.
It’d be damn tough. These things were like floating bricks, built for safety not maneuverability. Especially not over a wave break like the one ahead of them. They did have one stroke of luck though—the incoming tide was on their side. But they had to act fast. Once it turned, they’d have no hope of getting these rafts to shore.
While the people behind him babbled on about T-bone steak with hot chips and a mountain of gravy, he scanned the island through the binoculars, hoping beyond all hope that the dread in his gut was unfounded.
They’d already been through enough.
For fifteen days, while he’d been drifting in and out of consciousness, the rest of them had spent hour after hour cramped in the confined rafts, rationing food and water, nursing seasickness and injuries, and desperately hoping for rescue. Or praying to find dry land.
Now that they had, Gunner was certain their situation wasn’t any better.
He wouldn’t voice it though. He could be wrong.
Hell, he’d been wrong on so many counts it was impossible to trust anything was right. The insecurities that’d plagued him since he was a child were as brutal as ever, slamming ‘what-ifs’ through his brain like a wrecking ball.
What if he’d abandoned ship earlier?
What if they’d successfully pushed Rose of the Sea off that container ship?
What if someone else was in charge?
“Captain. Gunner.”
He turned to the voice. It was Quinn, standing out of the hatch of the nearest pod with a rope looped around his fist.
“Sir, can you catch this?”
Gunner lowered the binoculars to a seat. “Toss it over.”
The rope flew through the air, and he caught it first go.
“Great, now tie it on.”
Gunner shoved the rope through a cleat and tugged it tight.
Shit. I can’t tie it. I need two hands for that.
His gaze snagged on the bloody bandage at the end of his wrist and the urge to scream, ‘I can’t tie the fucking rope,’ burned in his throat.
But he bit it back. For the sake of the people sharing his raft he kept it together.
That’s what he’d been doing ever since he’d plunged that knife into his father’s belly all those years ago—keeping it together.
“Hold it there, sir. I’m coming over.”
Gunner wrapped his only hand around the rope, and as he clutched it and Quinn pulled his life raft over, Gunner’s thoughts tumbled back to his mother. She was serving twenty-five years in jail for a crime he’d committed.
But she’d made Gunner promise to never admit that he’d been the one who’d stabbed his father. It was the only promise Gunner wished he’d never kept. She’d begged him to let her take the blame. She’d done it to save him.
She was still wasting away in LA’s Century Regional Detention Facility, and with the power out, it would be pure hell. Who would save her?
She’ll die in there if I don’t get home soon. A blaze of acid raced through his stomach.
Maybe she already had.
“How you doing, Captain?” Quinn slapped him on the shoulder, launching Gunner back from the brutal rabbit hole he’d tumbled into.
Gunner attempted a smile. “I’m okay.”
“Of course you are. Come sunset we’ll be drinking cocktails and stuffing food down our throats till our bellies burst.” Quinn’s beaming smile was completely out of sync with Gunner’s crippling thoughts.
His reference to a bursting belly had Gunner’s memory slamming right back to his father’s bloody body with the knife buried in his gut. The kitchen knife had gone in so easily. Pure rage had powered Gunner’s thrust.
A rage that he’d never experienced before, nor after that attack. But as he glanced again at the tiny island and realized that he was no closer to his family, that simmering rage ramped up to boiling.
“Afternoon, sir.” Cloe popped up next to Quinn. Her face was a replica of nearly everyone in the rafts—gaunt, grubby, and grim. But also, touched with a hint of excitement.
“Hello, Cloe. How are you?”
“I’m great now. Can’t wait to get my feet on dry land.”
He nodded. It sure would be nice. The last time they’d walked on land was when they’d docked in Hawaii. That already seemed like months ago.
“Permission to come on board, sir. I’ve got the job of rowing your raft into shore.”
“Permission granted.” Gunner eased back so Quinn could climb into his raft.
Quinn bobbed down to view the passengers. “How you all doing?”
The upbeat answers confirmed everyone’s excitement.
“Right. Sit back and hang on. It could get a bit rough. But don’t worry. We’ll be strolling along dry sand in no time.”
Quinn returned to Gunner’s side. “Captain, I’m sorry, but I have to ask you to take your seat.” He lowered his eyes, clearly embarrassed to be giving Gunner orders.
Nodding, Gunner squatted and shuffled backward onto his delegated seat. Opposite him was Madeline. The tiny acrobatic dancer and Sterling had gone through hell on the ship. Gunner’s guilt over that was yet another brick in his belly. He’d been told people were trapped in the elevator, yet he’d done nothing to save them.
He’d let them down.
He’d let hundreds of people down.
Madeline, Sterling, and Sally’s rescue at the very end had been nothing short of a miracle.
They needed another miracle now.
A second man joined Quinn at the hatch and ducked down to peer into the raft. It was one of the twins. Gunner still couldn’t tell Col and Ken apart. He glanced at Gunner and then scanned the other sixteen people spaced out evenly on the raft’s seats. “You guys ready?”
Gunner nodded along with everyone else.
The twin stood again and positioned himself opposite Quinn so both of them could lean out the hatch to row.
“Hey, Sykes, ready when you are.”
“Roger that.” Sykes’ voice was loaded with confidence.
Gunner was lucky to have a man like Sykes in his crew. Sykes was assertive, intelligent, creative, and loyal. They were all lucky to have him. Sykes was a born leader. Gunner worked damn hard, but he never deserved to be in charge.
Through the porthole, Gunner had a clear view of Sykes in action. His orders were firm—he was in control. “Jackson and I will go first,” Sykes called out. “Watch what we do. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Quinn hollered. “Good luck.”
This was it.
They’d already lost too many lives to the ocean.
Gunner closed his eyes and prayed they weren’t about to add any more.

First Fate
Feral Fate
Final Fate

The nightmare is far from over.


After surviving the EMP blast that crippled their cruise ship, the exhausted passengers from Rose of the Sea finally reach dry land. But the deserted island has a sinister history, and one wrong step on its sandy shores can mean the difference between life and death.


When Gunner loses his position as leader, he fears the threadbare semblance of order will fray into lawlessness—and nothing will be left to stand in the way of desperate humans.


Now also caring for an orphaned child, Gabby is determined to see herself and her tortured family to safety on the mainland. But without her epilepsy medication, her condition is a ticking time bomb—a fatal seizure can strike at any moment.


Hungry for power, Zon appoints himself as leader of the fracturing group. When a reckless decision leads to a deadly accident, he finds himself at the mercy of the island and those he tried to control.


Tempers are high. Supplies are low. Will the group shatter into chaos? Or will the island’s deadly secrets destroy all they have left?


Find out in this gripping disaster/survival thriller.