The command candidate tag.
The map full of nodes stretching across half the country.
And suddenly the answer feels obvious.
“They’re preparing for systemic collapse.”
“What kind of collapse?” Adam asks.
I shake my head slowly.
“I don’t know.”
“But whatever it is…”
My eyes move to Boone’s file again.
“…they believe it’s coming soon.”
The wind rattles the cabin windows again.
Cold.
Restless.
And somewhere out there—
The Architect is still watching the board.
Still selecting players.
Still deciding who leads the army when the world finally breaks.
And tonight—
Boone and Adam just moved to the top of the list.
19
Boone
The church parking lot smells like smoke and cold metal.
The wind has picked up again, pushing low clouds across the moon and throwing the whole street into shifting shadows.
Russ has the prisoner seated on the back bumper of the truck, wrists zip-tied behind him, boots planted wide in the gravel so he can’t bolt.
Adam stands across from him, arms folded. The others are leaning against the truck.
Calm.
Controlled.
The man looks between us like he’s trying to decide which one of us worries him more.
Smart man.
It should be all of us.
