The Rule of Three: Fight for Power

The Rule of Three: Fight for Power

After sixty-six days of a catastrophic global blackout, life in the suburbs is not what it used to be for Adam and his fortified neighborhood of Eden Mills. Although an explosive clash has minimized one threat from outside the walls, Adam's battle-hardened mentor, Herb, continues to make decisions in the name of security that are increasingly wrenching and questionable. Like his police chief mom and others, Adam will follow Herb's lead. But when the next threat comes from an unexpected direction, nobody is ready for it. And someone is going to pay the price―because of Adam's mistakes and mistaken trust. Gr 7 Up—It has been 66 days since the global blackout that rendered all technology useless. Adam and the denizens of his suburb community continue to follow Herb, the retired former government official. But as catastrophes escalate and Herb's decisions become increasingly questionable, the teen begins to wonder if they've put their trust in the wrong person. Plot twists and double alliances will keep readers guessing and coming for more in this riveting installment of the survival adventure series. “Fight for power takes off in the immediate moments following the cliffhanger ending of The Rule of Three . . . will appeal to those who are interested in post-apocolyptic scenarios.” ― VOYA “The struggle for survival in a world suddenly bereft of technology continues . . . As the community's sole pilot and therefore crucial for surveillance and reconnaissance, Adam's all too aware that in this post-apocalyptic world, his community is an island of haves in a sea of have-nots . . . The philosophical questions and killer ending will prime readers for the next book.” ― Kirkus Reviews Eric Walters, a former elementary school teacher, is a bestselling children’s author in Canada. He is the founder of Creation of Hope, which provides care for orphans in the Makueni district of Kenya. His recent books include The Rule of Three series and Nothing to Fear . The Rule of 3 Fight for Power By Eric Walters Farrar, Straus and Giroux Copyright © 2015 Eric Walters All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-374-30179-8 CHAPTER 1 "Swing us back around!" Herb yelled. I banked the ultralight to bring the wreckage back into view, and gasped. The dust and dirt rose in a column, forming a cloud that towered higher and higher into the sky. Through the haze I could make out two thick concrete pillars soaring upward but supporting nothing. The rest of the bridge was gone — collapsed and crumbled under the force of the explosives that had been wrapped and wired across the span, then detonated. "I can't believe it's gone," I said over the intercom. "Not gone so much as rearranged," Herb said. I looked below. The explosion had sent the bridge to the valley floor. I could make out the hulks of shattered vehicles — the two dozen trucks that had been on the bridge only a minute before. A couple of the trucks had caught fire and were sending out black smoke. Most were simply on their sides, smashed in pieces scattered among the rocks, some partially submerged in the river or covered by the chunks of concrete and mountains of asphalt that had come down with them. We'd done it. We'd blown up the bridge and all the trucks that were on it and all the men who were coming to destroy us. Just seconds before, they had been racing across the bridge to kill us — my family, my friends, my neighbors — and destroy all that we had worked so hard to build. And now they were lying at the bottom of the valley, dead. And because they were dead we could live. "Nobody could have survived that, could they?" "Adam, I can't imagine it would have been possible to live through that," Herb said. "How many enemies are down there? How many men did we kill?" "An awful lot," he said. That boggled my mind. Just three months ago, we had all been leading normal, everyday lives. And then the computer virus or whatever it was had come out of nowhere and cast us all into the darkness. We'd walled off our neighborhood, and outside those walls we'd found enemies among former friends. And now we had taken part in killing dozens, no, hundreds, of men. But what choice was there? They were coming to destroy our homes, take all the things we'd worked so hard to create, the things we needed to survive, and they would kill whoever stood in their way. It was us or them. So it was them, down below, lying in the wreckage. I couldn't allow myself to feel sorry for them or regret what we'd done. I knew they wouldn't have felt sorry for us — they wouldn't have felt anything. "Bring us down," Herb said. "How low do you want me to get?" "I want you to land." "Down there?" "I'd like to get as close to the site of the collapse as possible. Can you do that?" "Sure, I guess so." Running alongside the river was a small paved strip — what used to be a walking path for hikers, and cyclists, and mothers pushing babies in carriages. It wasn't wide and it hugged the curves of the river, but I'd