PREVIEW

... ack to Fort Hamilton. People were giving commands, there was plenty of activity, but James felt like the hollow center of the storm, the quiet eye of the hurricane that spun up around them as they were returned back to New York.

An overwhelming urge to grab a bottle of whiskey and drain it dry had him by the throat. To just stop thinking, planning, and being responsible for people and cities and this whole fucking apocalypse. To check-out, for a day, for a week, forever.

To be do ...

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