The Dying Light: Book One

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“And our top story today. There are reports from all around the country about new cases of the flu.”

Jackson Thorne looked at the screen but only half listened to the report. It was the same crap the news been saying for days. A flu had swept the nation and spread across the world. It had killed thousands, but the government said the worst had passed.

Jack didn’t buy it.

He knew far too well what harm came when people took anything at face value, and he never made that mistake. He stood and finished packing his duffel with the belongings he had.

No, the worst of this flu definitely wasn’t over, and if Jack had his way, he’d be on his ranch alone and away from whatever was around the corner, not stuck in Atlanta. That flu that the government said was over had killed one of the few men he’d call a friend, which was why he was here.

The trip was only supposed to be long enough to pay his respects and be on his way. Just his luck that he’d had a front-row seat to an airline stewardess losing her shit and biting off another passenger’s nose.

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