Body Count

Body CountSM THOMAS Written by:SM ThomasPublished by:A.R. Hurne PublishingEdited by:Elizabeth Worswick & Hayley DobbsCover Art by:Germancreative – LesISBN978-1-7396769-4-0 dedicationFor 'Grandad Ray,’You absolute titan of a man. CONTENTSChapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-One Chapter Forty-Two Chapter Forty-Three Chapter Forty-Four Chapter Forty-Five Chapter Forty-Six Chapter Forty-Seven Epilogue Maternal Instincts Preview: The President is sick.Those four words are the tiny gap between life and death for me.The President is sick. I can cure him.Those eight words are the reason I get to keep Georgia and Violet by my side. Why I get to keep them safe.The President is sick. I can cure him. I won’t.Those ten words; now those ten words are the ones that give me purpose. The ones that make me smile at night when the phone finally stops ringing, that lull me into a restful sleep. Those sweet words are all the comfort I need as my arms ache to hold my son.I’m coming for you, Franklin.Mummy will get us home. Chapter OneWe’d been back on the ‘right’ side of the fence for six months now.Six long months of publicity tours, snatched moments with my son and stress headaches from negotiating the new lives we found ourselves thrust into. A life that wasn't part of my plan. Fall in love, get married, improve self, save lives, have a family, grow old and wrinkled together and then pass away peacefully in my sleep. That was the plan. That had been the plan since the moment I changed my name. Strange how an entire lifetime of hopes and dreams can disappear in just one night. Can be snatched away because of one stupid decision. If Leo hadn’t made us run, would everything be different right now?My new apartment was in the heart of zone four, at the centre of the Government’s district and it was blank and minimal. A sofa, coffee table and a bookcase were the only items of furniture in my living room. I hadn’t even purchased a rug. It felt like defeat to make this apartment a home. A sign that I’d accepted my new circumstances. Looking around as I nursed a glass of wine, I couldn’t quite believe this had ever been my idea of perfection.I missed the splashes of colour that Leo had snuck into the sterile environment I tried to turn our family home into. I longed for a colourful blanket, some geometric pillows and I never thought I'd say this, but I'd even settle for some generic colourful wall art right now.Everywhere I looked, my eyes were met with stark white walls, crisp and clean beige furniture, and eggshell features. A year ago, this would have been my idea of heaven, an image in a magazine I would have waved under Leo's nose asking him why our home couldn't look like that. Asking him why we couldn't live like that. He'd always tell me that a home; a proper home, needed a bit of personality – a bit of chaos. I wish I could tell him he'd been right all along. I wish I had conceded more when I had the chance. These days, I wished for a lot of things.They never allowed me to be alone with Franklin, not truly, anyway. Nor was he allowed in my apartment. They wanted to remind me how alone I was and how much I stood to lose.Instead, I was permitted 'play dates' with him, carefully scheduled, Government-supervised moments in time. Always with a member of the press lurking nearby for a cute off-the-cuff photo of the two of us. Photos I could never see, as they forced me to live in a world without access to any media. He had become yet another cog in the States' PR machine. Just like his mother. I'm sorry, Franklin, I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.Before the accident, the press had only ever been interested in my work at the hospital, something my ego had been happy to court. Then, after Leo's disappearance, everybody wanted to be the one to break the story when my amnesia cleared. It never did. It still hasn't. Not completely. Still just fragments of a memory that I couldn't quite place.After Georgia and I 'escaped' from my mother's camp, we had returned as heroes. Victorious women who had escaped the clutches of the Anarchists and chosen actively chosen to return to civilised life with a Government that welcomed them back with open arms.Of course, the sideshow to our heroism was the massacre at Rus's execution. My mother and her followers had ruthlessly slaughtered every camera operator, security guard and State Agent. I'd snuck glances at some of the crime scene photos that made the front covers whilst I was out and about with Franklin. It was clear age hadn't caused her to lose her touch.My hand over the man in grey's mouth.Staring into his eyes as they bulged in panic.No. I couldn't think about that. It wasn't me. That was the actions of a woman who'd been mentally broken by the world around her. That wasn't who I'd worked so hard to become. It wasn't really me.I was required to give an interview about my ordeal as the only survivor of the attack. Explaining to the ravenous press that the level of pushback from the Anarchists had only cemented my belief in the Repopulation Act. Rus had deserved to die, and those who supported him knew as much. After all, violence is always the last resort of the desperate. The Dwellers had resorted to it when we hadn’t