Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga by Marcus Richardson

town, he'd stopped at the Anderton's for news and supplies.   He knew he'd be gone at least a week, maybe more.   Anytime someone went hunting alone that long, there was always a chance they might never come back.   Accidents happened and there were bears and wolves in the mountains.   Environmental regulations on hunting had lead to a rise in predator species all over the northwest in recent decades.   He'd heard plenty of wolves but had yet to see one.
    Tripping and breaking an ankle or being attacked by a bear were the least of his concerns, however.    
    Some part of him refused to feel guilty.   He had killed in the name of justice—he had killed to protect others.   Reminding himself of that and staying busy had kept him from descending into a spiral of guilt and self-doubt.   He crested the slope and spotted the ranger station built into the rock wall that surrounded U.P. Lake.
    I did nothing my ancestors didn't do hundreds of years ago.   He stood up and defended his town to the best of his ability.   He had not willingly gone out looking for someone to kill.  
    But I did.   I hunted those men…after…
    No, he told himself for the thousandth time.   The Russians forced the issue—the Russians were the aggressors, not me.
    His thoughts drifted back to the first days of the crisis.   The news coming from California before they lost power had not been good at all.   Many of the locals had panicked at word of the Korean invasion of Oregon and Washington.   A good number of people had fled town when they learned that the enemy had not only invaded California, but was marching east.   It was only a matter of time, many feared, before North Korean tanks appeared in Idaho and rumbled through the streets of Salmon Falls.
    Denny knew better.   At least, at the time he thought he knew better.   The Army Rangers that appeared with a small fleet of helicopters did not seem to be all that concerned the Koreans would come rolling through the Bitterroot Mountains, so they left on the more important mission: rescuing Chad Huntley.
    The Source.
    Denny sighed.   Rumor had it the government was using Chad's blood to make a cure for the Korean Flu.   If that were true, he supposed abandoning Salmon Falls to chase the Source was a bigger mission.   He walked past the wooden door to the ranger station and stopped at an overlook peered at the Salmon River Valley through a gap in the trees.  
    The landscape surrounding Salmon Falls was definitely not conducive to swift military travel.   If they had helicopters and leapfrogged from mountaintop to mountaintop, he supposed the North Koreans might swoop down on them, but it would be time-consuming and noisy.  
    He eyed the main roads through town as they cut across the landscape.   Much easier for an enemy to just load up their troops into trucks and drive the roads.   Denny shook his head.   The fighting had changed him.   Instead of appreciating the beauty before him, bathed in the glow of the waxing moon, he stood there planning strategy.
    Denny scratched his chin and worried for Chad.   He truly felt sorry for the young man.   Huntley had been given a great gift and an even greater responsibility to use that gift for the betterment of all mankind.   For his trouble, it sounded as if he'd been abused and used by more people than Denny could count.
    No, Denny thought as he scanned the far off vista, I'd much rather be out here, a prisoner of my own thoughts perhaps, but free otherwise.   He glanced over his shoulder.   There's no one out here to tell me what I can and can't do.   The only thing I must do is hunt so I may survive to help others.
    Come in and we'll talk.   John's words echoed through his mind again.   Denny stared at the town, suddenly sad that so little in the way of light flickered up from the dark houses and buildings.   Salmon Falls had seen so much suffering lately—after all that, why was John so upset now?
    Denny groaned and