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“You say that now. When they turn into deranged ax murderers, don’t come crying to me.”
I hang up, do my business, and collect my composure. Father Marc’s words replay over and over.
They need me? And what does he mean just like Kennedy?
With a minute to spare, her fiery eyes and breathtaking smile flash through my mind. I deliberately avoid thinking about her body and instead flip to my phone.
Last video recorded: 97 minutes.
Huh?
A million thoughts bombard my brain like flaming arrows as my pulse ratchets up sky-high.
I run through the mental checklist:
Hourly check-ins by security, verified.
Entry points secured.
Communication lines active.
Backup generators, powered.
Vehicle fleet, secured and accounted for.
Weapon cache, fully stocked.
I’m not sure what the world did in the dark ages before wifi, but thank god for technology.
I glance back at the feed and the little green dot.
Surveillance cameras, operational.
