“That’s all it’s supposed to look like,” Alex said sharply as he steered the 4 × 4 over the uneven dirt road.

Willow glanced at him from the front passenger seat but didn’t say anything. They were all exhausted, on edge…and hardly any wiser about what had happened to the world. Though the signs don’t look great so far, thought Alex grimly. The fact that there’d been no border control was kind of a tip-off.

As they’d neared the United States, they’d heard people shouting gleefully about the abandoned border. If true, the ramifications were chilling, but Alex had decided to try it for the sake of speed. And when they’d reached Ciudad Juárez, it had been true all right: people swarming over the fence into El Paso, dropping into the US unchallenged; cars cruising straight through the unmanned gates, honking joyfully.

“Dios mío – they still think there’s something better here,” Seb had murmured.

No one had paid attention to their dusty 4 × 4. They’d drawn their guns anyway. Willow had been driving; she’d sped them across the border, knuckles white on the wheel – and then they were home again.

It was nothing at all like the place they’d left.

Even without the border chaos, it was obvious there’d been major earthquakes in the US too. Whole swathes of the nation’s electricity grids had been knocked out – the night-time portion of the drive had been shrouded in an eerie darkness, without a single light showing. Things were even worse in daylight, with panicked looting going on everywhere they passed, until Alex had decided to stick to back roads again.

How much? he kept thinking. The question pounded at his brain. How much of the world has been destroyed?

They’d almost reached the brick building now. It looked as if it had crouched undisturbed here in the desert for decades. DANGER OF ELECTROCUTION. KEEP OUT! read the weathered sign.

A CIA agent had tipped them off about this place back in Mexico City. The code that she’d given them worked; the gate gave a jerk and slid open. A garage door raised up, leading into the building itself, and inside there was a light. Of course, realized Alex, the place must really be a substation, which meant it had its own power supply. The door slid shut as they drove inside.

The small room contained only a desk with a display of video monitors. On the wall facing them were two elevators: one car-size and the other smaller.

No one spoke as they got out of the truck. Alex drew his pistol. He’d done a scan for energy and knew there wasn’t anyone inside – but he still felt better armed.

They took the smaller elevator down. After nearly a minute, its doors opened onto a large garage. A dozen shiny 4 × 4s were parked, waiting. At one end stood a pair of gasoline pumps, like a miniature gas station.

They stepped out and stared. “Do you think there’s actually gas in those?” Liz asked finally.

“Yeah, definitely.” Alex gave a short, humourless laugh. “Ever wonder where your tax dollars went?”

Their footsteps echoed down gleaming corridors as they explored the bunker. The details they’d been given had done nothing to prepare Alex for actually being here. The vast underground base could support a thousand people for up to two years. It just went on and on: a fully stocked armoury, an industrial-size kitchen, closets piled high with sheets and pillowcases. The silence got to you after a while; Alex kept bracing himself with every door he opened, not knowing what he was about to see.

But there was no sign that anyone had been here recently. And no sign of their missing teammates, Kara and Brendan – last seen in Mexico City.

Willow stood peering into a closet full of cleaning supplies. She gave Alex a worried glance as the others went on ahead.

“Kara definitely knows where this place is, right?” she asked in an undertone.

Alex nodded, not surprised that she’d picked up on his thoughts. Kara had seen the specs on the base. If she and Brendan had made it out, this was where they’d have come.

Willow touched his arm. “Alex, they could still show up.”

She didn’t add that the odds of them having made it through the lurching Mexico City streets in Juan’s old van were infinitesimal…if they’d managed to escape the Church of Angels mob at all. Alex saw again the hundreds of bloodthirsty people, all intent on killing the AKs, and his jaw tightened.

“Yeah, they could still show up.” He heard his voice shut a door on the conversation. How many people he cared about had he now lost to the fight with the angels?

Silently, Willow stepped close and slipped her arms around him. Alex let out a breath and held her, dropping his head down to her shoulder.

“Hey, we’ve found something,” said Sam, coming back to them.

Alex glanced up. “What?”

“Shortwave radio.” The big, muscular Texan still wore the same rumpled clothes he’d had on when they escaped Mexico City. “And it works,” he added.

Alex’s pulse leaped. Shortwave radios could broadcast worldwide – they were the one way the planet could still communicate even if other systems were gone. They followed Sam quickly to what was clearly a communications room, where a curved metal desk held a gleaming radio.

Seb stood with his hands propped on the desk; Liz sat frowning as she twiddled the dial. A few times she paused, fine-tuning. Each time there was only static.

She shook her head. “I don’t think anyone’s—”

And then the speakers burst into life.

“…this terrible catastrophe. But do not despair, because I am stepping forward to offer my leadership…”

Alex froze at the male voice with its English lilt. Oh Christ, no – it couldn’t be.

“What the hell?” Sam yelped. “But Raziel’s dead! We saw him die!”

“Quiet,” Alex said tersely.

Willow’s face had drained at the sound of her father’s voice; she clutched the desk. Alex turned up the volume; without looking up, he gripped her hand.

“…those who do not know what has happened, I am deeply sorrowed to announce that the Seraphic Council has been assassinated in Mexico City. This vile deed was carried out by Willow Fields and her gang of Angel Killers, knowing full well that the Council had put down roots of energy in your world. She knew their assassination would cause the very earth to grow unstable.”

Oh, the bastard. And people will believe it too, Alex thought. The world already believed that Willow was a terrorist – and of course Raziel left out the fact that he was the one who’d wanted the Council dead and had manipulated the unknowing AKs into doing it for him.

Raziel sounded aggrieved, sincere: “She is a deranged individual who hates the angels. She is the reason for the earthquakes that have devastated so much of your world.”

So much of the world? Alex swallowed and glanced at Willow. Her eyes had grown too big for her face. The others stood stricken and waiting.

A faint rustle of paper. “In the US, the following cities have been destroyed: New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, Seattle, New Orleans, Dallas…”

Alex’s mind reeled as the list went on and on, over a dozen, each city name a death knell. How could New York City be gone? And Chicago. It was his hometown. He had a fuzzy memory of walking along the lakeside with his mother – of her laughing and calling ahead to his brother Jake to slow down.

Liz was crying. “Is he…is he lying, maybe?”

“No,” Seb said faintly, staring at the radio. “I think he is telling the truth.”

Sam’s broad face was slack. “Dallas…” he murmured, pushing a helpless hand through his hair.

Willow had gone deathly pale. Alex’s hand tightened on hers. “Okay, we already knew it was bad,” he said from between gritted teeth. He glared at the others. “This is not going to break us. Do you hear me? This is not going to break us.”