Rica Marin’s a mercenary—a hired gun, soldier, and spy who answers only to whoever can keep her in the meds she and her only living relative need to survive the plagues that scourge the earth after biological warfare’s wiped out pretty much everything.
It’s a mystery- Something is wrong. As Lance Underphal pads softly across the cold flagstone,he hears her weeping. She is on her knees, hunched over in the middle of the room, her back to him, facing the dark fireplace. Something is very wrong. Lance wants to rush to her, but can’t. In a hoarse whisper, he says, “Callie?” She lets out a mournful wail from deep within as she turns, their infant son in her arms, blue and still. He reels from the blow. How can this be? They don’t have a son.