Free Dead of Night (Ghosts & Magic #1) by M.R. Forbes

alternative was worse. It wasn't even that the yards were like true incarceration. Their goal was only to contain, to keep the ferals out of society at large and to avoid the mass killings on both sides. That had been the 'compromise' that had calmed the whole episode.  
    Of course, ferals were still out there, and new ones were 'born' every day. While most were captured and contained as soon as they started the change, there were always some that got away. The smart ones kept themselves hidden in places like Yellowstone, but the smart ones weren't that common. Most tried to go back to the places they knew, and found themselves out on the streets at night with their fellow monsters.  
    "I don't know. Put them on a reservation?"
    I knew her well enough to know she was only half-joking.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Thanks, Grandma!

    FIVE YEARS EARLIER...

    "Come on, kiddo, we're going to be late for day care." I leaned over and scooped Molly into my arms, ignoring her complaints. It was tough for a dad to compete with the colorful monsters that laughed their way across the television.
    "No," she said. She was two, of course it was her favorite word. I kissed her cheek and found the remote, shutting off the television and heading for the kitchen.
    Karen was waiting there. She was ready to go, looking fantastic in a red blouse and dark slacks. Her short hair turned forward behind her ears, and her eyes sparkled when she saw our daughter.
    "Cutting it close again, Conor." She reached out and took Molly from me.  
    My cell was on the counter. It was already eight-thirty. I had twenty minutes to get to the hospital to prep.
    "I should be getting the results of the biopsy back today." I tried to say it casually, matter-of-factly, like it was no big deal. It came across flat and nervous.
    "I'll come by, if you need me. I know you like to play the tough guy, but you aren't going through this alone." She put her hand on my face. I gave her my best forced smile and tried not to start crying again. They had said there was a good chance the tumor was benign. They were my friends, my peers. They wouldn't lie just to make me feel better.
    "No," Molly said again. She wasn't talking about anything. She just liked the sound of it.
    "I'll be fine."  
    I had told myself that a thousand times every day, in hopes that repeating the mantra would make it so. They had found the growth almost by accident, after a skiing incident had broken one of my ribs. The rib had healed okay.  
    The jury was still out on the tumor.
    I put my arms around her, and she swung Molly aside so I could give her a kiss.  
    "Good luck," she said.  
    She was worried. She wanted to be there. Part of me wanted her to be there, too. I couldn't bear the thought of hearing bad news in front of her. If it was malignant... I needed my own time to deal, without worrying about her. In any case, there was no guarantee they'd have the results today, and I had a surgery scheduled this morning. The logistics weren't in favor.
    "I love you," I said, kissing her again. We'd been married eight years, after being matched by one of her best friends. We'd hit it off right away, a so-called fairytale romance. A year to the wedding, and then five years of trying, some IVF, and a lot of prayer to get Molly into our family. We were close before she joined us. We were closer since.  
    "I love you, too." She put her head on my chest and kept it there for a minute. She was being strong for Molly. I was being strong for both of them.
    "I love you, kiddo." I kissed her pudgy face again, her head turning to avoid the moisture. Then I let go of them both, grabbed my cell, and picked my blazer from a hook next to the door. "I'll call you if I hear anything."
    I moved out the door into the garage, and dug out the keys to the Tesla from my blazer pocket. It was one of the originals, and I kept it in great shape. I circled around to unplug it, and then got behind the wheel. I backed out into the street.
    Our house