Free Hunger (The Hunger Series Book 1) by Jeremiah Knight

Seeing them standing together, Jakob was a foot and a half taller than the girl. Peter looked from one face to the other. Their eyes, dark brown, matched each other’s. Matched his.
    Two kids...
    Under other circumstances he’d have been thrilled. Even if Kristen had still been alive. A daughter? Holy shit. But it also meant he had even more to risk. Also more to gain. If they could undo the genetic modifications unleashed on the world, then their children might not just have their lives, they might have futures.
    “Did you hear me?” Jakob asked. “I’m tired of sitting here and doing nothing. If we can do something about it, we have to.”
    “It’s not that easy,” Peter said.
    Jakob crossed his arms. “Why not? Because it’s dangerous? Believing we’re safe here means pretending that Mom didn’t—”
    “Enough,” Peter said, his voice stern, not because he was angry at the boy, but because he didn’t want to open that can of worms. Not with Ella, and not right now. He took a moment to collect himself, and then said, “If we do this, every single one of you does exactly what I say, at all times, without questioning and without hesitation.” He looked at Ella. “I don’t care if you’ve survived out there for months, or a year, or however long you’ve been traveling; you can’t do what I can do.”
    “But—” Anne said, before Ella silenced her with a raised hand.
    Ella turned to Peter. “Fine. We’ll do things your way.”
    “For as long as it works,” Anne said, eyebrows raised in challenge.
    Peter had to fight his smile. He saw himself in her with every passing second. “Okay, then. Now let’s—”
    “The wheat is moving.” It was Anne again, but all the toughness had left her voice. She sounded like a little girl again. Her eyes were fixated on the field outside the kitchen window above the sink.
    Peter kept everyone else from moving by holding out his hand, and tip-toeing to the window. He leaned out slowly, looking through the window, which was covered by a sheer shade. He could see the wheat fifty feet away, but the fabric reduced the detail, making it a silhouette. The wheat was indeed moving, bending with the wind. He was about to say so when he noticed a subtle aberration. While most of the wheat stalks gave way to the breeze, some of them remained rigid and upright.
    Not as smart as they think.
    He stepped back from the window. “How long do we have?”
    “They’re here already?”
    “What’s here?” Jakob asked.
    “Big booties,” Anne whispered.
    Jakob’s eyes widened. “Stalkers? You mean, they’re real?”
    Peter put his hands on Ella’s arms. “Ell, how long?”
    The answer to his question didn’t come from Ella, it came from the front door, as something large and heavy threw itself against the wood.

 
     
    11
     
    “Take them to the basement,” Peter said to Jakob.
    “Huddle?” Jakob asked, and Ella realized he was speaking in code.
    Peter shook his head. “Extra points.”
    Code based on football. Great.
    Plan or not, retreating to a basement, fortified or not, sounded like a horrible idea to Ella. As strategically smart as Peter was, locking themselves below ground would only prolong their demise. The Stalkers were persistent, and patient. She opened her mouth to say as much, but he cut her short.
    “Not a word,” he said, pushing her toward Jakob, who was leading Anne to the back of the house.
    “But—” was all Ella managed to say.
    “I might not know very much about them.” He motioned to the door, which received and withstood another impact. “But they know nothing about me. And if we’re being honest, your knowledge in that regard is also fairly outdated.”
    “That works both ways,” she argued.
    “Agreed,” he said. “But this is my house. You’re just going to get in the way.”
    Jakob opened the basement door, stepped inside and motioned Anne to follow. The girl looked to her mother for the go ahead, but when the door shuddered